Page 63 of Without a Clue

“I had a bag of toffees in my purse.”

I tilt my head. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I had a bag of toffees in my purse. I shared them at some point.”

I must have looked dubious, because she adds, “What? I’m not a monster. At any rate, he said he was forever in my gratitude.” Jackie sniffs a little longer now and reaches for her hankie. “At least that’s the way the story goes. The reality is, I was just in the right place at the right time. Hugh, unlike others in my life, had no problem sweeping me along despite who”—she sniffs again—“who I was. Trying as he may have been sometimes, he also . . . is the kind of friend few are lucky enough to experience in their life.”

Emotion fills her throat as she speaks, and I catch the double meaning in her words, the self-awareness as she quietly admits how difficult she can be.

She’s never admitted it.

Hugh loved her through it all.

As should I.

“That’s why he called you Toffee sometimes?” I exclaim. “I thought it was to annoy you.”

“Particularly remarkable people can draw up feelings of reminiscence and annoyance simultaneously.”

Jackie gives a sniff as she puts her handkerchief to her nose.

“Oh, Jackie.” I can’t help it. I reach out and give the hand gripping her knee a sympathetic squeeze.

For anybody else, any normal person, you would’ve heard those words and thought nothing of them. But in half a decade, I can honestly say this is as emotional as Jackie has ever been. And that includes the time everyone surprised her for her Historical Lifetime Achievement Award in London three months after her husband had passed (which, for the record, included a twelve-hour flight) and she gave us in turn a very connected eye glance from the podium during her speech.

Which of course sent Neena into tears and drew Crystal—who had completely missed the moment by hovering over the cheese table—back to her seat begging to know what she’d missed. (The real question: What doesn’t she miss?)

Jackie pulls her hand away from mine.

That was enough human contact to keep her fueled for the next ten years, easy.

“Right. Well. Let’s move on,” I say, taking her cue and looking to my list of questions. “You are among the closest companions of Hugh.” I quickly add, “Aside from the pool of support in being a part of The Seven, have you ever gained direct monetary resources from Hugh or will you in the future?”

Jackie purses her lips. “If you’re not so subtly asking if I was greedy for money, no. I didn’t need Hugh for financial gain, or any gain for that matter, five years after the commencement of our social contract. I could have stepped away and published successfully onward forever. The choice to stay was and is entirely mine. And if you’re trying to ask if I’m in his will, how would I know? He never told me if I was, and I don’t care about his stuff either way. I don’t need money. I don’t need anything. It’s quite obvious who the killer is.” She shakes her head. “Stupid man. I always told him he would get himself into trouble.”

My slowly retracting shoulders shoot up. “Who do you think it is?”

She frowns as if I’m the stupid one now.

Her nose creases.

She waves a hand. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? I must’ve told him a thousand times what a foolish game it was to play the hero, skipping down to the station in his free time just to solve the unsolvable crimes. Shuffleboard, I told him. A good hobby for a man his age was shuffleboard. But did he listen? Noooo. Determined to pore over all those old crimes, making a gruesome game out of gruesome events. Well, now he’s had what’s come to him, hasn’t he, and we’re all stuck in this mess.”

“Yes, but the whole wing was locked off. And none of us lost a key. And Carragan said there was no sign of forced entry.”

“Unless you are just determined enough to steal a key from one of the staff.”

Of course.

The wind sucks right out of my chest as I sit back in my lounge chair.

Of course.

How had I not seen it? How, in all these hours, had the fact that Hugh dabbled in detective work for his former police unit not dawned on me? How many angry, unhinged people had he set off?

I guess Carragan had guided us early on to assume it was one of The Seven. And when he said he knew who it was after interviewing everyone, it was so clearly inferred that it was one of us . . .

But if we widen the possibilities . . .