Wouldn’t there be a twist in my belly if I feared this man was a murderer? Wouldn’t there be a nervous zing through my veins? There was nothing. My instincts said that something about Lily Green’s death wasn’t right. Yet as I sat across from a man who shouldn’t have had her wallet, a man who lived the closest to the place where she’d died, not a single cell in my body warned that he was dangerous.
I think someone planted the belongings for him to find, knowing about his mental condition.. Like Frank
