Chapter Seven
Ashley Patterson followed the investigation of Dennis Tibble's murder in the newspapers and on television every day.
The police appeared to have reached a dead end. It's over, Ashley thought.
There's nothing more to worry about. That evening Deputy Sam Blake appeared at her apartment.
Ashley looked at him, her mouth suddenly dry. “I hope I'm not bothering you,” Deputy Blake said.
“I was on my way home, and I just thought I'd drop in for a minute.” Ashley swallowed. “No. Come in.”
Deputy Blake walked into the apartment. “Nice place you have here.” “Thank you.”
“I'll bet Dennis Tibble didn't like this kind of furniture.” Ashley's heart began to pound.
“I don't know. He's never been in this apartment.” “Oh. I thought he might have, you know.”
“No, I don't know, Deputy. I told you, I never dated him.” “Right. May I sit down?”
“Please.” “You see, I'm having a big problem with this case, Miss Patterson. It doesn't fit into any pattern.”
“Like I said, there's always a motive. I've talked to some of the people over at Global Computer Graphics,”
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