“That’s what it looked like. Couple of witnesses said he told them he was going to do it if the bitch left him. Not that I put much stock in their word.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“They’re buddies with Corey Kerry. The name wouldn’t mean anything to you, but he’s a major dealer in these parts,” said Noyes. “He’s also Brenda’s brother. We figured he put his buddies up to it, to make sure the husband didn’t go free. Not that you could really blame Corey, since his sister was murdered.”

“Hold up—drugs?” asked Jesse.

“Right,” Noyes nodded.

“You’re not gettin’ me,” said Jesse. “The cleaning lady… from the rehab center… her brother’s a drug dealer?”

“I get it,” said Noyes. “I know Brenda went through random drug testing at Idylhaven—all their employees get it—and she never failed one. Brenda was never in trouble. She was one of those women who goes around quivering, you know, like she’s waiting for somebody to hit her. Her husband’s a piece of shit, pardon my French. He put her in the hospital a few times. Then Brenda would go sleep on a friend’s couch for a week, but she’d always go home in the end.”

“Do you know who the friend was?” I asked Noyes.

“Sure. Trina Greene.”

We were all silent, as if we’d been given a glimpse of a giant jigsaw puzzle, but that the pieces amounted to less than we’d originally thought.

Bruxton’s voice cut into my thoughts. “What was the husband’s alibi for the fire?”

“He was out drinking with some buddies.” Noyes puffed on his cigar. “He later amended that to out getting high with some buddies.”

“What a winner,” Bruxton commented.

“This was an open-and-shut case,” said Noyes. “Only funny thing was the dog.” All eyes turned to him and he shrugged. “Brenda had this little white dog her husband used to kick around, mean bastard that he was. But he left the dog out in the yard, tied to a tree, when he set the fire. I always thought that was the damnedest thing.” Noyes tucked his hands behind his head and stared into the distance. “All her friends said he was so mean to the dog. I always wondered why he didn’t kill it when he killed her.”

CHAPTER 35

Back at the motel, I threw myself down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “You know, Lil, they don’t clean bedspreads that often,” said Jesse, swinging his carry-on bag onto his bed and unzipping it.

“Ugh,” I responded, aware that I should have known better. Shuddering, I got up to pull down the bedspread, then threw myself dramatically onto the pillows. “What are the odds that two people from Idylhaven die on the same weekend? Alec Gorevale on a Saturday night, and then the cleaning lady on Sunday.”