Suspicious Minds (Squeaky Clean Series, Book 2) by Christy Barritt

back to my van. I thought of her living in that big house alone with just the memories of her deceased lover. I remembered the forlorn look in her eyes. Killer or not, she was one hurting woman.

    Inside my head, I could hear the Beatles singing "Eleanor Rigby." I agreed with them-where did all the lonely people come from? First, there was Mr. Hermit, with no one to love him enough to check on him. And today, there was Lynette, a woman who loved a married man. Would she have pursued a married man if she weren't lonely?
    Chad dropped me at my van. I promised to contact him in the next couple of days. It was a little strange. He did seem overly interested in the case. But then again, so did I, and that didn't make me a killer. I'd have to be careful as I practiced the "keeping my enemies closer" rule.
    I drove through rush-hour traffic to reach my apartment. I wanted to do some more research, and if I got home early enough, I could avoid all of my crazy neighbors.
    The only other car in the parking lot when I pulled in was Mrs. Mystery's, and the only reason she'd make an appearance was if she thought she'd been stolen again. I hurried up the stairs into my apartment and plopped down at the computer in the corner of my living room.
    What did people do before the Internet? I typed in Darnell's name on a search engine and watched as pages of results came up.
    Apparently, he was quite popular in the Elvis tribute-artist community. He had won awards. Played at tons of venues. Really made a name for himself.
    I didn't find anything interesting, case-wise.
    Out of curiosity, I typed in Hank Robins. He was the other Elvis tribute artist that Jamie had mentioned. My eyes widened when I saw that he was performing tonight at the beach.
    I glanced at my watch. I had just enough time to get there.
    If I wanted to miss my evening college class.
    I bit down. I couldn't miss my class. I had to finish up with my degree so I could get a real job. I had to do the responsible thing.
    I grabbed my book bag from the corner and headed out the door. I was ready to learn more about forensic science.

    Missing one class wouldn't hurt.

    I veered off the interstate and headed toward Virginia Beach. This was my one chance to observe Hank Robins without being given any weird looks. What had Darnell's wife said about him? That he and Darnell had gotten into an argument at the Evans's house. What was he doing at the house? And what had they argued about? If I had those answers, would I be able to solve this case?
    It couldn't be that easy, but at least I might have more clues.
    So far, I had two possible suspects. Lynette Lewis, who may have killed him because he tried to leave her. Or Jamie Evans, who might have killed him ... because he tried to leave her?
    I wasn't sure either of the suspects or their motivations were satisfying. I needed more. I had to dig deeper-without getting in the way of the police. It would be tricky, but I could do it.
    At the oceanfront, I found a parking space in a nearby garage and then walked three blocks until I reached the courtyard. The wind coming off the ocean made it seem ten degrees cooler. But I loved the smell of salt air. Of course, just the scent alone made my hair frizz. Okay, just the thought of it made my red hair take on a mind of its own.
    A good-sized crowd had gathered around the outdoor stage, surprising for such a chilly night. In the summer, throngs of people filled these spaces. The boardwalk and sidewalk and storefronts were full of people, elbow to elbow. There were sailors looking for dates; families vacationing from faraway, exotic places like Kansas; and teenagers looking for mischief.
    Tonight, there were no sounds of sidewalk bands. There were no smells of vendors selling hot dogs, funnel cakes, and boardwalk fries. But there was the sound of someone singing, "You ain't nothin' but a hound dog."
    As I got my first good look at Hank Robins, I thought having him sing about a hound dog was rather