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crime of passion or opportunity, not a thought out one. If plans had been made to kill her, why wasn't there a better plan for disposing of her body? So it's a pretty big leap to believe that if Phoebe was killed near the Dumpster, the murderer would've had the forethought to bring cleaning supplies to try to get rid of the evidence."
    "Very good reasoning." Bruce picked up the key lime bar and left the plate on the table. A shower of powdered sugar drifted onto his jeans when he took a bite. "From what I saw, I don't think she was killed there either. When bodies are dumped, it's often difficult to find where the murder was committed. I know it wasn't her hotel room—I overheard that in the station today—but I'm not sure if Lauren has leads on anywhere else. Don't be surprised if she searches Quantum's building. I would, if I were her."
    "I understand. It's a logical place to look." Amy cringed when the baby squealed at the stuffed rabbit. "So finding the murder scene would be a huge break in the case?"
    Carla removed another brownie from the bakery bag. She needed the sugar to help her sluggish brain keep up with the conversation. If Amy were paid a penny for every thought she had, she would be a millionaire. But one thing was clear to Carla—if the killer had randomly dumped the body at Alex's business, that person had made a big mistake. Amy had the determined look in her eyes that Carla had seen many times before. Whoever committed the murder had better watch themselves. Amy wasn't going to stand back, wringing her hands like a damsel in distress, while her husband got stuck in the crosshairs of a homicide investigation. She was going to try to find the killer herself.
    Bruce nodded. "In this case, I think it could lead straight to the killer."

 
CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Amy slowed her pace so that she could check out the architectural details in the old building. The paneled doors along the hallway, with edges smoothed from layers of paint, reminded her of an old-fashioned hotel, complete with oval, weathered-brass number plates. She had never been in any of the upper-floor apartments in the buildings along Main Street. But now that Carla's mother was living above the ceramic shop where she worked, Amy had a feeling she would be visiting the residential area of the building a lot more. She adored the quirky artist.
    Apartment number four was at the end of the hallway. Amy heard muffled laughter as she approached her destination. She transferred the wicker basket to her left hand and knocked on Geri's door. After a few seconds, it swung open. "The snacks are here," Geri called over her shoulder as she gestured for Amy to come in. "And the sweetheart who made them."
    The inside of the apartment was a bohemian wonderland. Velvet quilts were draped over the couch and easy chairs. Silk scarves covered the lampshades. A curl of smoke rose from the incense stick burning on the end table. Tommy and Charlotte, the sisters who owned the building, were the proprietresses of the shops, which were at street level. The siblings sat cross-legged on the floor on giant round pillows. Amy offered the basket to Geri. "I brought date bars and lemon cookies. I have never tried vegan baking before, so please consider them very experimental cooking experiments."
    "I'm sure they'll taste wonderful, but I promise to give you my honest opinion." Geri's purple silk palazzo pants quietly swished as she took the basket to the kitchen. "Please have a seat wherever you feel comfortable. We were just having a bit of a girls' night in."
    There were two more poufs on the floor between the sisters. Amy took the one nearest to the window. When she settled onto the cushion, it felt as though she were back in kindergarten, getting ready for story time. Knowing Carla's mom, the experience would probably be an adult version of the activity.
    The sisters were like a study in opposites. The only trait they seemed to share was the word unique in their business