“It’s not.”

“Even still, wishing death on somebody… like I said, that’s intense.”

“I never wished death on the guy. I just said he got what he deserved and I’m not sorry he’s dead. It’s two very different things.”

“Kind of seems like a distinction without a difference.”

Bo rolled his eyes. “One is active, the other passive. Do I really need to explain the difference between wishing and not caring, Sheriff?”

“Seems like you’re splitting hairs to me, Bo. In your video, you seemed pretty active to me.”

“And I also said I was pursuing legal remedies.”

“You did,” Spenser said. “And how exactly are those legal remedies coming?”

His face clouded over, his expression darkening, and that familiar anger returning to his eyes. Bo drew a deep, quavering breath, his nostrils flaring as he let it out, his face painted with frustration.

“My attorney said he’ll press it if I want, but this case is going to end up being a loser,” he said through gritted teeth. “He said Seth changed the song—my song—just enough that he can slip through the loopholes in copyright laws.”

“So, you and Seth didn’t get along then,” Spenser said.

He looked at her like she was an idiot. “Have you not heard anything I’ve said? No. I hated the guy with every fiber of my being.”

“So, you never visited his home?”

“What? No,” he said. “We never hung out.”

“Got it. So, there’s no reason we’d find your fingerprints in his house?”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s a ridiculous question. No. You will not find my prints in that man’s house,” he said. “Look, I see what you’re doing, Sheriff.”

“And what is it I’m doing?”

“Let me tell you again, I had nothing to do with Seth’s death. I may have hated his guts, but I didn’t kill the man,” he said.

“Right. You said that.”

“What do I have to do to prove it to you?”

“Tell me where you were on the fourteenth and fifteenth,” she said.

“I was here. I had a couple of days off from the Whistle, so I locked myself up for a couple of days and was working on some new material,” he said. “I turned the second bedroom into a studio, and I usually record here.”

“Was there anybody here with you?”

He shook his head. “No. Other than my girlfriend, I don’t usually have a lot of visitors, and she was out of town doing a showing in Portland.”

“Did you go anywhere? See anybody?”

“Nobody other than the Postmates people,” he replied. “I locked myself away and didn’t come out for a couple of days. I do that sometimes when I’m working on my material.”

“And you’re sure about that? You were here for those two days and didn’t see anybody other than the delivery people who dropped off your food.”

“That’s right.”

Spenser pursed her lips. “Okay.”

He stared at her with a blank expression. She could see a flicker of worry in his eyes, though. Bo ran a hand through his hair as he stood up a little straighter and squared his shoulders.

“Am I a suspect?” he asked.

“Until I have something definitive that says you’re not,” she told him honestly.

“And how can I prove that?”

“Would you give me your fingerprints and consent to a DNA swab?”

He shrugged. “Fine. I’ve got nothing to hide since I didn’t do this.”

“Good. Okay.”

Spenser pulled a digital fingerprint reader out of her bag. It was one of the few new modern conveniences she’d convinced the council to open up the town coffers for since it increased efficiency and accuracy. She quickly scanned Bo’s prints, and after that, gave him a quick DNA swab from the inside of his cheek.

“All right. I appreciate your cooperation. This should help either include or exclude you.”

“Good. Fine.”

As far as alibis went, his was thin. Exceedingly thin. He was in town, which gave him the opportunity to kill Hamill. He also had a motive to spare. And since eyedrops are a very common item, he had access to the means… but then, so did a lot of people. Spenser’s gut was telling her that Bo Graham was not her guy. A gut feeling, though, was a long way from definitive proof. And on that count, she was pretty light. She couldn’t even say his prints and DNA would definitively exclude him as a suspect. But it was a start.

“Is there anything else?” he grumbled. “Would you like urine? A stool sample? How about my shoe size?”

“No, this should be sufficient for now,” she replied as she put her things back into her bag then raised her gaze to the man. “For the moment, though, I’d suggest you stick around town in case I have more questions.”

“That’s a pretty weak alibi,” Amanda said.

“It is. But he swears it’s true,” Spenser replied.

Spenser paced around the table in the conference room, her arms folded over her chest after relaying her conversation with Bo to Jacob and Amanda.

“I think it’s credible,” Jacob added. “Creatives sometimes get weird like that. They go total hermit crab and lock themselves away when they get on a creative streak.”

Amanda laughed. “Do you remember Aunt Yoli?”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “I had almost forgotten about her. Thanks for dredging that bit of family history up from the depths.”