CHAPTER NINE
As I trudged uphill toward my car, I wondered where the safe might be located. I could’ve sworn I had checked every inch of Kandinsky’s house. Maybe his killer made off with the safe. If so, surely they’d find a way to force it open.
However, if the killer didn’t have the safe, it had to be somewhere accessible to Kandinsky. I’d checked the attic and basement. Maybe it was buried in the yard or under a floorboard. Was it worth returning there, not only to take another look, but to make a waxed impression of the key?
I unlocked the car, got inside, and sat there, staring through the windshield. My head slowly filled with a jumble of thoughts, which were mostly suppositions. For all I knew, Kandinsky had siphoned off the money to an account in the Bahamas. I was not at all sure the key was worth all this mental effort, so I turned my mind to other matters.
Did Kandinsky steal the money, as Blaine suspected? And if so, how? And did he have an accomplice? On top of that, why was he hanging out at the coffee shop where Melissa worked?
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