Page 85 of My Killer Blind Date

‘Is it possible that you didn’t put the ashes in the urn?’ Bill asks with a pointed look.

‘What? No.’

‘I understand you cared about Zoe. Is it possible that you’re misremembering, and you took them home? Don’t be afraid to tell me. I know how attached people can get to their loved ones’ remains.’

I shake my head vehemently, but he continues in a soothing tone.

‘It would be the most natural thing in the world for you to want to keep them—’

‘No!’ I snap, because I am exhausted, and being accused of theft is not how I envisioned the memorial ending. Then, I take a deep breath. ‘Sorry for raising my voice, Bill – but no. I most definitely put the ashes in the urn on Monday. I didn’t even see the urn again until Wednesday, when someone had moved it into the parlor.’

‘I moved it,’ he says. ‘First thing this morning.’

‘Did you check inside when you moved it?’ I ask, because hey, maybe Bill took them. No idea why he’d do that, but I’m no stranger to male gaslighting.

‘No,’ he says with a rueful tone. ‘I didn’t check. It did feel a bit light, but I figured you’d put the ashes from her foot in the urn and left the rest in the bag.’

‘That’s exactly what I did. Devin said he was adding the bag of ashes from the beach later.’

We both stare at each other.

‘Why would someone steal her ashes?’ he finally says, his gaze still fixed on me, but his tone softer.

‘I literally have no idea.’

Of course a trophy comes to mind – a piece of her for her killer to keep. But whoever killed her had plenty of chances to set aside some kind of trophy before discarding her foot. I mean, to state the obvious, he could have kept all the ashes he wanted before dumping the rest on the beach.

Bill sighs and leans back in his chair, drawing his hands up and down over his face. ‘Maybe it was some kind of mistake. Things happen. I’ll talk to Devin and Elsie. Still, this isn’t a good look for a professional funeral home.’

A stabbing sensation at my temple announces the start of a headache. This day has been too much. The memorial was always going to be a lot, but realizing Zoe’s parents are nothing like what she painted them – learning Liam is a PI – now the ashes disappearing—

‘Well, if that’s it,’ I say, ‘I’m going to head out.’

‘All right. Good luck, Margot. Today can’t have been easy.’

‘It wasn’t. Thanks.’

At the front door, I step from the dry chill of the air conditioning into the sticky heat of the day. It’s two p.m., it’s ninety freaking degrees and a rumble in my stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten. But despite my promises to George about self-care, there are much more pressing things to do. Namely, Liam. I shoot off a text.

Hey, we need to talk

I wait a minute, maybe more, staring at the screen like the power of my stare will draw forth a response.

Nothing. I blast off three more texts in quick succession.

Liam?

You there?

Please answer

I count to ten in my head. I realize I’m clenching my jaw and purposely relax it.

OK. I could go home. Wait for him to respond. That would make sense, right? Grab a bite to eat, take a shower, change clothes. Give myself a minute to recover. Yes, that makes sense.

I open the Uber app. But when I type in the address, it’s not mine I’m typing in. I hit Request Ride before I can second guess myself.

Because screw it. I have to get to him. I can’t wait. I’ll stake out his apartment if necessary.