Page 117 of Death on Gallows Path

Clara moved on to another aspect. “Since he knew about his wife and Damon — was behind it — what does that mean for that motive? Knowing his wife was acting as Mata Hari, he couldn’t be angry at her consorting with Damon.”

“Not reasonably. Unless she wasn’t bringing back the information he wanted.”

That cheered her up. “So, he could still have a motive involving Blanche, along with the business and family grudge motives.”

* * * *

Clara skipped one parking spot near Zepke’s for another under a light pole that would light the area after class.

We’d barely left the van when a figure stepped out between two cars and intercepted us.

Oscar, with Quasar.

Their appearance spurted adrenaline into my system as I concentrated on keeping Gracie contained for a polite greeting, since her preferred mode would be to jump up, wrap herself around the person’s neck, and lick the face.

In retrospect, it would have made more sense that encountering a possible murderer caused the spurt, but I’d take adrenaline wherever I got it.

Anyway, when it came to polite greetings, Gracie did better than Oscar.

“I told you to leave Willow alone. And now the sheriff’s department has questioned her.”

That might be the indirect result of our talking to Pammy about Damon thinking Willow had been in his papers, but I’d put my money on Bryon.

Either way, I wasn’t in the mood to be placating.

“Pammy said Willow—” No need to rouse his anger more by using Pammy’s phrase dog girl. “—wasn’t ever upstairs, had no reason to be there. But Willow said the office was messy. She had been in Damon’s office on the second floor. Damon said someone had been in his papers. It was Willow. Of course they’re questioning her.”

“All she did was try to look out for my Jean. Now she thinks she needs to look out for me.” He seemed to catch himself. More vehemently, he added, “She didn’t do anything wrong. She’s a wonderful young woman and had nothing to do with what happened to that man.”

“As much as we might like to take your word for it,” Clara said reasonably, “you understand why we can’t. Taking papers from Damon’s office—”

“I wasn’t taking them.”

Clara and I spun around to see Willow step into view from around the back of a panel truck next to the van.

The dogs wagged their tails, of course.

Great guard dogs these two were.

“Willow—” Oscar started.

“No. I’m going to tell them. They can’t think you— I wasn’t taking papers.” She dropped her head, sucked in a breath, then brought her gaze to us. “I was returning them.”

Before she raised her defenses again or Oscar interfered, I asked, “What kind of papers?”

“About the money I gave him,” Oscar said.

“I was returning them Thursday afternoon when Damon nearly caught me. I didn’t have time to be neat. I thought he might have seen me. But he didn’t say anything.”

He didn’t have much time to, considering he was killed that night or early the next morning.

Clara asked Oscar, “You told her to take the papers?”

“No,” Willow said immediately. “It was all me. After the incident and with Oscar not being allowed to go near Damon, I had to do something.”

Not being allowed to go near Damon had to mean something happened.

Channeling Kit, I turned to Oscar. “What is your explanation for the incident?”