Unfashionably Dead

Chapter Thirty

The elevator dings open and Clive steps inside. I wait in the hallway with Margaret and enlarge myself as the elevator motors away. Margaret backflips down the hall while I process her news. The joy of no longer being hindered by gravity, I hope I wasn't that annoying when I found out I was a ghost. Sigh.

Lanie's arrest should not surprise me. I saw it coming. But I had hopes that maybe someone else's fingerprints were all over Margaret's place, too. It's hard to believe Clive and Adam left no proof they were in the place. Margaret's too well-known for no one to come forth about Adam's very public interactions over the past few days. Surely the police would investigate those other threads before making an arrest, and surely they would interrogate Lanie, too.

But this is a high profile case. The police will be itching to make an arrest, and solving this murder quickly will provide the perfect opportunity for Benitez to make a name for himself. Memories of Grant's animosity toward Benitez tie my stomach in knots. If he's as ineffective as Grant has said, Lanie is screwed. It will take one helluva lawyer for her to have a prayer at avoiding prison.

And who's going to stand up to Harold Bertwinkle?

Margaret stops flipping about halfway down the hall and turns around, looking at me expectantly. "Aren't you going to do something?"

"What can I do?" I take a deep breath. "How do you know she's under arrest?"

"I went to Lanie's office to follow her like I said I would do. Anyhoo, that Benitez cop showed up there and said she was under arrest for my murder. Imagine that." She throws her hands into the air. "So I came here to tell you."

"How did you know I was here?"

She floats up to the ceiling, disappears halfway, and plummets through the floor, giggling like a child. After a few repeats, she stops in front of me. "You weren't with Adam at his office, and Clive's about to leave for Boston, so I took the chance you might be at my apartment or Lanie's."

"Umm, you did notice that Clive was getting into the elevator when you told me to stop?"

Confusion crosses her face. "Why would he be here?"

I shrug. "No idea. I was in your apartment and he let himself in with a key, seemed to be searching for the check."

"That's weird. I saw you shrink and was so focused on getting your attention that I didn't even notice him. I certainly wasn't expecting him to be here." Her eyes narrow and she frowns. "It just doesn't seem like him."

"I know what I saw. Any chance you can follow him around until he leaves? Well, if he leaves. I think he knows something about your murder."

She folds her hands to her chest. "The police already have my murderer and I'd rather watch her get booked. I can just picture it now." Her lips curl into a smile as she prattles on about Lanie bawling her evil little eyes out.

I resist the urge to punch her. "So, you're not at all concerned about Clive nosing around your apartment?"

It's her turn to shrug. "He didn't do it." She glares at me then quickly changes her tune. "But I'll follow him if you introduce me to Derek."

Omigosh. My friend's going to jail, and I have to deal with Margaret's need for male attention. God.

"That's fine, but it may take a few days to contact him." The lie comes easily. "I'll meet you at your place tonight. Let's aim for ten."

I don't give her a chance to increase her demands. With a little concentration, I am outside 411 N. Franklin Street. My veil threatens to cocoon me, and I quickly slide under an overhang to hide in the shadows.