A little more than halfway through the workday, just a half hour after lunch, Anne asked Sharise and Prometheus a question.
“You guys hear the news?” she asked, standing in Prometheus’s garage. She was off to the side, working on one of Prometheus’s new suits.
“Real Superheroes of Miami doesn’t count as news,” Sharise said, sitting and working at one of the tables. “Nobody gives a shit what that bitch Brenda did this time. We get it. She has ice powers and she’s an ice-cold bitch.”
“You mean the Killer’s Gallery,” Prometheus said.
“I mean the Killer’s Gallery,” Anne said.
“You almost seem happy about it.” Prometheus leaned back into his seat. He was sitting at a steel table, trading stocks on his laptop.
“Those guys were terrible people,” Anne said. “It’s just good to see them get what’s coming.”
“But they were all killers, right?” Anne asked.
“I don’t know,” Prometheus said. He opened his mouth to say some more, but he was interrupted by his phone, which was ringing. He took the call in front of Anne and Sharise, not worried about privacy.
“Prometheus?” the cop on the other side of the line asked.
“Yep,” Prometheus said. He was sitting on a chair, finger tapping against the table he was sitting at in his garage.
“It’s been a real shitshow over here, you know, with everything that happened last night. But I… think we might’ve found out who killed Shade.”
Prometheus took a deep breath. “She in custody?”
“Not exactly,” the cop said. “She was killed.”
Prometheus glanced at Anne, remembering the suspicions Louis had voiced about the girl.
“How do you know?” Prometheus asked.
“That she was killed?” the cop asked. “She was done in a couple days ago, but they just found her today. We thought she was part of the batch that got killed last night, but the Medical Examiner’s thinking she’s been dead too long for that to be the case.”
Anne didn’t seem to be paying attention to Prometheus, since she was hard at work on the wiring of Prometheus’s suit. But he wasn’t 100% sure. Therefore he didn’t want to say anything that would reveal what the phone call was about.
“No, about her identity,” Prometheus said, hoping the cop would pick up the hint.
“How do we know that our victim killed Shade?”
“The murderer wrote a message with the corpse’s blood, ‘For Shade.’ Not conclusive evidence, but it doesn’t really need to be, when you’re prosecuting a corpse.”
“I understand.” Prometheus focused on keeping calm, cool, and collected. No need to raise anybody’s suspicions yet.
If Anne hadn’t done anything, then there was no need to bother her with more than she was already dealing with.
If she was responsible for a murder? Well then, Prometheus had to tread very carefully while he tried to catch her.