Page 37 of No Offense

A black hoodie, exactly like the one Elijah wore nearly every day, despite Little Bridge Island’s heat.

Her heart seemed to skip a beat.

No. No, it wasn’t possible.

“What is it?” Mrs. Tifton asked curiously. “Is it a shirt?”

“It’s a hoodie,” Sergeant Ruiz said. “A men’s hoodie, size small.”

Mrs. Tifton shook her head in bewilderment. “No, that doesn’t belong to me. Or Norman, either. He wore a large. And he’d never have worn such a thing. He liked big, baggy, short-sleeved shirts. And he never wore black. And of course I donated all of his things to the Salvation Army a while back. They were so grateful. They really do need men’s clothing, you know.”

John allowed himself to smile this time. It was a kind and patient smile.

“That’s nice to know, Mrs. Tifton,” he said. “Do you know anyone else who might wear a shirt like this?”

Elijah,Molly thought to herself, feeling a little sick.Elijah wears a shirt like that. But it can’t be his. He’d never do a thing like this.

Except that he’d bragged that he was the High School Thief.

“Not really,” said Mrs. Tifton. “But I suppose I could. I do have an awful lot of friends, especially now that Normanhas passed. He didn’t like to socialize much, but now that he’s gone, people have been so nice to me, and I get so many invitations—”

Molly wondered if John was sharing her same thought: that Mrs. Tifton was receiving so many invitations because she was the wealthiest widow in Little Bridge, and everyone wanted her to donate to their cause. But this seemed an ungenerous sentiment and would probably never occur to the sheriff. Mrs. Tifton was also unfailingly bubbly and sweet, which was also why she was so popular.

“—it seems rude not to accept them, so I’ve met so many people, especially young people who might wear a shirt like that. All those young men with the Little Bridge Theater Company, for instance. But you don’t think one of them—?”

“Not at all,” John said mildly. “It was just a thought.”

“Let’s try this,” Sergeant Ruiz said, and, taking the pen from John’s hand, brought the hoodie closer to Mrs. Tifton. “Would you mind taking a sniff, please, Mrs. T?”

Mrs. Tifton looked surprised... but she couldn’t have felt half as surprised as Molly, who never in all her crime viewing or reading had heard of a victim being asked to sniff a suspect’s garment. What on earth was wrong with the Little Bridge Sheriff’s Department?

“Smell it?” Mrs. Tifton’s surprise had turned to bewilderment.

“Yes.” Both Sergeant Ruiz and Sheriff Hartwell wore expressions of perfect seriousness. “The olfactory sense is one of the strongest,” Sergeant Ruiz said, “and sometimes scentcan trigger memories that we might otherwise have forgotten or have even suppressed.”

Mrs. Tifton glanced uncertainly at Molly, who could only shrug. “It couldn’t hurt,” she said. Except that inside, of course, she was quaking. What if it smelled like Elijah? Mrs. Tifton had never met Elijah—that Molly knew of—but his scent was very distinctive. He doused—doused—himself in body wash and cheap cologne every morning, believing the constant barrage of media advertising that told him and other young males that this would make him more appealing to females. So far, it hadn’t worked. In fact, it seemed to have had the opposite effect.

So her heart was hammering when Mrs. Tifton gave a little laugh and said, “Oh, well, fine,” leaned forward, and sniffed the hoodie.

Molly thought her heart would explode when the widow instantly reared back, wrinkled her nose, and cried, “Ew!” then said, “Oh, my,” and fanned her face.

This was exactly how Molly felt whenever she got too close to Elijah.

Sergeant Ruiz nodded as if she’d expected this response. “That bad, huh? Remind you of anyone?”

“Well, it’s bad. But I can’t say itremindsme of anyone.”

“What?” Molly asked, her heart now in her throat. “What does it smell like?”

“Very cheap men’s cologne,” Mrs. Tifton said.

Molly had to sit down again. How was she going to handle this? She couldn’t turn Elijah in, of course. He was her patron and she cared about him.

But she couldn’t let him get away with this kind of behavior, either. It was possible he was breaking the law, and hurting people, too. Obviously his parents’ divorce was affecting him much more than his mother had ever suspected and causing him to act out in a completely unacceptable way.

Still, he’d have to be held responsible for his crimes.

But he was only sixteen. Maybe the court would show a little leniency, due to his young age.