Chapter Nine
As I trudged uphill toward my car, I wondered where the safe might be located. I could’ve sworn I’d checked every inch of Kandinsky’s house. Maybe his killer had 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 filled with jumbled thoughts, which were mostly suppositions. For all I knew, Kandinsky had siphoned off the money to an account in the Bahamas. Was the key worth all this t
