10. Aubree
10
AUbrEE
AND HIS CUTE LITTLE DOGGY, TOO…
I walk in to work the next morning and plop a tray of to-go coffees on Minka’s desk, followed by my purse and coat. Immediately, she looks up from her printed reports and searches my eyes, concern brimming in hers so clearly, her thoughts may as well be written on the sheets of paper she sets down. “You okay, Doctor Emeri?” She studies my puffy eyes, then glances down to my hands, as though to check for bruised knuckles in case I beat the crap out of her brother-in-law. “You didn’t come back downstairs before we left last night.”
“I decided to stay.” I snatch up my purse and coat and walk them back through her office door, dumping them both on the back of my chair before I spin around and retrace my steps. “We fight. It’s what we do.”
“Is he alive today?”
I lower into her visitor chair and snag my coffee. A venti vanilla latte with four shots of espresso, four pumps of vanilla, two pumps of caramel, double whip, and salt on top.
Doctor Boring, on the other hand, prefers a standard coffee with nothing extra to give it a little razzle dazzle.
“Aubs?”
I sniff my breakfast and smile behind the lip of the cup. But I think of Tim, too. Of his complete surrender when we’re just us, cooped up in his bed. His head on my lap and his back facing the door .
“Yeah, he’s alive. I left his apartment this morning, went home to shower and change, and now here I am.”
“Are you, like… together?” She struggles with chit-chat and talking about feelings. So I know her question is wrapped up in my wellbeing, and not because she wants to gossip. “In a relationship, or whatever.”
“No. We’re just us. Dysfunctional and shouty. I slept over, because that’s what I do sometimes.” I shrug and sip, enjoying the first shot of caffeine sliding down my throat and into my veins. “He told my family we were engaged.”
She grabs her coffee and uses it as a shield, covering her mouth. But I see her smile. “He did?”
“Like you didn’t hear me scream about it inside the bar.”
“I mean… I suppose I heard a little something. Did he, uh…” She clears her throat. “He announced an engagement?”
“To be an asshole. He knew I had family dinner coming up. And Eli’s wedding. He asked to come, and I said no. So he took things into his own hands and invited himself.”
“Malones tend to do that.” She settles back into her chair with a smirk. “So your parents are planning your wedding now?”
“No. Because I’m not planning a wedding.” I glance to my right as a horde of doctors line up on the other side of the glass wall that surrounds my boss’ office. It’s time for rounds, and rounds in the morning, mean everyone piles into this one room. “It’s about that time, huh?”
She looks down at her desk, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth and sighing from the mere exhaustion that is peopling . But then she looks up again and nods. “Bring them in. And call Callen up, too. Time away will mean she’ll have a stack of crap saved for me to catch up on.”
“Yes, Boss.” I push to my feet and stride to the heavy glass door. It’s not locked, but no one comes in until they’ve received a stone-etched invitation. “Come on in. Don’t take my seat.”
The beautiful, blonde, and red-lipped Doctor Raquel dashes to the leather couch, plopping down until the cushions wheeze. Then her number two, the handsome Doctor Xavier, follows. He’s more dignified than his superior. More mature than most of the rest of the staff employed by the George Stanley medical facility. He takes his place by the windows that overlook the city, setting his hands behind his back and saving the few seats for the ladies.
Because he’s a gentleman .
“I know I’ve been away,” Minka starts. “I know there’s a mess to clean up, so?—”
“I mean—” Raquel’s glossy lips curl into a taunting grin. “You left at, like, midnight Friday night. Although you were supposed to clock out seven hours earlier. And now you’re back, bright and early Wednesday morning. Two days off for a family wedding is hardly a crime.”
“I’ll be available to you all day to run through anything you need. But as always, we’ll start with rounds.”
Callen exits the elevator and makes a beeline for this office, though I’ve yet to pick up the phone and call her up. Skirt suit, sharp blazer, and perfect hair.
She’s a flawless replacement for our previous public-relations camera-ready pretty face. In theory.
“Aubree?”
I swing around and meet Minka’s eyes. “Yeah?”
“Rounds?”
“Oh! Sure.” I release the door just as soon as Callen blows through, then I turn to face my colleagues. “My most recent was an unattended death. Morbidly obese woman died in her bed. She passed approximately seven days ago, and when I arrived on scene, decomp was well and truly underway. I went through her medical records and performed the autopsy once she arrived back here. I’m ruling natural causes; myocardial infarction. She’s in the fridges downstairs and the police are having trouble finding next of kin.”
“The fact she was unattended for so long implies she has no one nearby who cares.” Pursing her lips, Minka looks at my next colleague. “Doctor Kirk?”
“I have two at the moment, Chief. Both similar, but not connected. Car accidents. One was the driver, fell asleep at the wheel and slammed into a ravine just outside the city. Decedent wasn’t found for approximately twelve hours after the collision, and by that point, they had frozen.”
“Did they pass from the collision or the cold?”
“Still to be determined, though I lean toward the first. Peri and post-mortem bruising indicate the former.”
“Good. And your second case?”
“Car accident. Head on collision due to snow fall. Airbags seem to have malfunctioned, and the deceased suffered a break between the C2 and C3 vertebrae. Instant death.”
“And the passengers in the other car? ”
“Unharmed. Undergoing mandatory blood tests to rule out DUI. I’ve submitted similar samples to our tox lab for the same.” He looks across at an unimpressed Doctor Raquel. “I’ve pended my case until results are back.”
“Doing our best, kiddo.” She brings her teasing gaze to Minka. “Must we have the same conversation every single day?”
“You’re not getting more staff. Keep working, make your way through the backlog, and suck it up.” She looks at another. “Doctor Flynn?”
“Homicide. Midtown detectives are riding my ass like they have nothing better to do. Bullet to the back of the head, execution style. Body was dropped into the bay at approximately four o’clock yesterday afternoon, so I had no choice but to clock a little OT. He’s in house now and the autopsy is complete. I’ve bagged and tagged everything as expected, sent samples to the lab, and emailed forensic anthro for a consult.”
Minka’s eyes narrow in thought. “Why?”
“Because his head was burned to a crisp. As were his hands. Whoever put him in the water didn’t particularly want him identified.”
I shudder at the thought. “There are easier, less messy ways to achieve that result.”
Flynn only shrugs. “This is the method I’m dealing with today.”
“Do you have an ID yet?” Minka asks. “Tentative?”
“Nope. Middle-aged, mid-build. No apparent scarring except for the injuries sustained immediately prior to death. No tattoos. No piercings. His hair was probably dark brown, and he probably kept it about an inch long. No wedding band. No jewelry at all. Cops are running down leads, but if they have an ID, they haven’t shared that information with me.”
I bring my focus around and catch my boss’ deep brown stare. Because execution down at that bay, sadly, screams mafia. And if that’s the case, then we both know a couple of Malones who are going to be pissed today.
“Alright.” She gestures to Doctor Catlin. “Thanks. Next.”
“My slab is clear. I wrapped one up before I left last night, but I know there are a couple waiting for today.”
“There are always bodies waiting.”
“Dang those pesky humans and their propensity to die,” Raquel taunts. “Can I go? I have a backlog longer than my years left on this planet, so…”
“Yeah.” Minka flicks her hand toward the door. “Everyone can clear out. Callen, stay. And Catlin, take your pick of the few who are waiting. Delegate the others out for me.”
“Yes, Chief.” She makes her way to the door and holds it open for our colleagues. Meanwhile, poor, sweet, shy Callen meanders closer to Minka’s desk and wrings her fingers together to work through her fear. Because Minka Mayet can be somewhat… scary.
“Y-yes, Chief?”
“Sit.” She points toward the chair perched in front of her desk. “I’m gonna need you to get a little meaner. For everyone’s sakes, I need you to find your big girl pants and learn to be assertive.”
“Uh…” Panicked, she looks from Mayet to me. “Chief?”
“Fifi has never, in the history of ever, looked like she was gonna wet her pants just because I asked her to stay back and talk to me.”
“F-Fifi?” she stammers. “You mean Seraphina?”
“What did I miss while I was gone? You’ve been here for a month now, so I expect you could manage in my absence.”
“Y-yes, Chief.” She nervously fidgets. But she speaks, at least. She has answers. “The execution thing,” she hooks a thumb over her shoulder, “The one Doctor Flynn is running. The mayor has some thoughts about that. He’d like you to call him this morning, now that you’re back at work.”
“To talk? Or to talk about the execution?”
“Uh… Yes?”
“Anything else?” I question, before Minka reaches into her drawer and takes out her metal ruler. She might stab somebody with it someday. And personally, though I have no affiliation or personal affection for our newest staff member, I’d prefer it wasn’t Callen.
I’m sure she didn’t deserve it.
“No, Doctor Emeri.” She turns in her seat and clings to me. She’s in stormy seas, and I’m the buoy that might save her life. “It was business as usual while you were both out of the office. We’ve deferred most statements back to primary investigators, and families who needed to see their deceased have been processed and brought through with their corresponding tech. I have a handful of messages for Chief Mayet, though none are urgent. I’ll get those sent over as soon as I go back to my desk. And as I mentioned?—”
“The mayor.” Minka waves Callen off and has the poor girl jumping to her feet. “Thanks.”
She darts out of the office and runs so fast, I’m surprised the split in her skirt doesn’t tear all the way to the top. But while she clobbers the elevator call button, I bring my attention back to my best friend.
My boss.
I’m not sure which order it goes in.
“You’re cruel. ”
“Odd. Since I feel I was uncharacteristically nice.” She brings her coffee up and takes a long, ‘ahhh-ing’ sip. “The mayor continues to light up my phone.”
“He misses you.” I sit back in the chair I started this morning in, snatching up my coffee and downing a little before it deteriorates from blistering hot to annoyingly warm. “How was New York?”
“Same as always. You were there. You saw how it was.”
“I meant yesterday. You stayed longer than me.”
Her lips curl up on one side. “Tim commandeered the plane on Sunday. He said, and I quote,” her smile trembles with amusement, “‘ All of you assholes stay away or I’ll slit your throats .’ He wasn’t willing to share, and Archer wasn’t all that cut up about it. So we stayed a little longer and allowed Timothy to anti-kidnap you.”
“Anti-kidnap?”
“Yeah, well… Take you home. As opposed to away from it.” She shrugs and goes back to drinking. “You know what I mean. Fun flight?”
“I barfed.” I press a hand to my belly and remember the bouncing turbulence. “We flew through a storm, and it kicked my ass.”
She snickers, but then the phone on her desk trills with an incoming call. Her hands remain wrapped around her coffee, both palms touching the warmth as snow gently falls outside her floor-to-ceiling windows. She studies the offending contraption, but not a single cell in her body is inclined to take the call. So I reach across and pick up the handset. “This is Doctor Emeri.”
“Aubs.” Archer Malone, the nicer, sweeter, swoonier Malone breathes my name. “She staring at the phone and refusing to answer?”
“Yep. Probably should’ve called her cell if you wanted her personal attention. Can I help you?”
“We have a dead body. Could be vehicular manslaughter, I suppose, depending on the words you write in your report.”
“There’s been a few of those lately. Only one DB?”
“Affirmative. Five vics; four are banged up, one didn’t survive.”
“And the other car?”
“No other car. It was MV versus brick wall. Driver is under the influence. Front passenger was ejected upon impact and face planted the bricks. Traumatic head injury. But I dunno,” he mumbles. “I’m not a doctor.”
“It’s barely even nine in the damn morning.” I push to my feet and make sure to keep my coffee clutched in my hand. “How can they be drunk already? ”
“Some folks are dedicated to the cause. Do I get my wife on this one, or will you send me someone not nearly as nice to look at?”
I snort and tilt my head toward the door. “We’re coming. She needs to get out of this building anyway. She’s scaring the new Fifi.”
“That’s my girl. I’ll see you soon. Check your texts for location.”
“Will do, Detective.” I drop the phone back into its cradle and spin away from the desk. “Let’s go, Chief. We got us a dead body to examine.”
“He’s been on shift for, like…” She slowly stands and brings her coffee along for the ride. “Thirty minutes. How can he possibly have a case already?”
“Some folks are dedicated to the cause, I suppose.” I swing through the door and grab my coat as I pass, because it’s freezing outside, and I know I’ll catch more than a cold if I think to leave this building without layers.
Minka follows behind me, grabbing her coat, but leaving her bag behind. She doesn’t think to pick up a set of car keys— that’s something I do —and she doesn’t make sure our murder bag is stocked and already in a car— my job . But she does press the call button on the elevator and turn to look me up and down while we wait.
“What?” I glance down to make sure I’m dressed. Pants on. Shoes on. Nothing embarrassing. “Why are you staring?”
She steps into the elevator when the thick steel doors slide open. “I just realized now that you and Tim are engaged, you’ll officially become my sister-in-law soon.”
“We are not engaged!” I stomp into the elevator and smack the button for the basement garage. “I don’t know why he insists on being a pain in my ass. Announcing our engagement serves no purpose except to confuse our families and infuriate me. If I wanted to be engaged to a man, I’d date him first. Dinner. Sleepovers. Intimacy! These things are important to me, and they should come before the wedding.”
Her flickering smile reflects back at us from the steel door. “There are many cultural traditions that would prove you wrong. Not everyone has sex before marriage, you heathen.”
“Oh, shut up. You jumped into bed with Archer approximately thirty-seven seconds after meeting him.”
“I never claimed to be a pillar by which to hang your hat. This thing,” she gestures my way, waving her hand up and down, “between you and him, has been going on for longer than I’ve been in this city. Objectively speaking, why do you think he’s making these moves now?”
“Because he’s a dick?” I move out of the elevator as soon as we stop on the basement level. Storming toward the closest car, I produce a set of keys and move toward the driver’s side when Minka shows no inclination to steal them for herself. “He did the emeralds thing. And I guess maybe he expected me to fall to my knees and worship him. So when I chose to be offended at his less than honest approach, rather than flattered that he’d deign to look my way, he’s now choosing obstinance. He’s a Malone.” I yank the car door open and flop into the front seat with a heavy thud that has the entire frame shifting. “Malones were born with certain DNA that means they’re used to getting their way on things. They also like to think they know better, and so, of course, their opinion is the only one that matters. I said no, and instead of taking that clearly spoken boundary and considering a moment of self-reflection, he told my mother we were getting married. It’s what Malones do to coerce those around them into situations they don’t consent to.”
She slides in beside me and glances across, entirely too amused by all this. “And your mother?”
“Thrilled!” I start the car and back out of the parking slip. Setting the gear into drive, I maneuver us toward the mouth of the garage. “It’s infuriating how happy she is about all this. She asked how our sex life was!”
“Oh, well…” Best friend, my ass. Minka Mayet has no care at all for my wellbeing, because she bursts out in laughter and claps her hand to her mouth like that’ll somehow mask the sound. “She sounds like a treat.”
“Don’t get too comfortable. You’re going to Eli’s wedding, too. I’ll be sure to tell my mother how open you are to discussing the Kama Sutra handbook and how you have questions about vaginal health; pH levels are her forte. She’ll keep you occupied for hours with stretch routines, lube brands, and how sex is best experienced with someone we have a spiritual connection with.” I pull onto the street and into slow-moving traffic. “Why are there so many cars out already?”
“Jesus.” She bites her knuckles and snickers around them. “You’re supposed to be the less angry one of the two of us. When I’m the one driving around and cussing out every person who dared use the roads I wanted to drive on, you’re the one who sprinkles her unicorns and good vibes everywhere. I’m not sure I considered a world where we’re both bitches.”
I meet her stare.
“The city won’t survive.”
“The city can kiss my ass. And New York, too. In fact, every city can suck a fat eggplant, because Timothy Malone is the man my heart has bled for, hemorrhaged , for years. He could have been my Romeo. But instead, he stole and lied and became my Tybalt.”
“Romance,” she groans, intolerant of the concept. Except, of course, until Archer Malone enters the chat. “Romeo commits suicide. You know that, right? And Juliet, too.”
“Shush.” I slam my palm to the horn and move idiots out of the way. “Why don’t we get lights and sirens, too?”
“Because we’re not the police? Might I suggest, despite your well-placed anger this week, that Tim may be the calmest, most level-headed Malone of them all. Except maybe Micah, I suppose. Tim has had the opportunity to claim you for the last several years, but has not.”
“Great, thanks.” I peel my lips back and allow a feral smile to spread over my face. “Warms my heart to be reminded.”
“He had reasons for his actions, is what I’m saying. I believe he always has a motive for every move he makes. If you put your rage aside and reflect on this with a little objectivity, you might consider he has valid justification for his current rash of dickheadedness. You might not agree with it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“And until he can refrain from being a sphincter and instead choose to communicate effectively and maturely, then I fear we’ll continue to circle this drain of death and never truly find happiness.”
“So date someone else.” So casual, so carefree, she takes out her phone and checks her email. Scrolling. Scrolling. Scrolling, like her suggestion hasn’t moved the tectonic plates this city rests upon. “He’s not your man, and you’re not ready to accept what he’s offering. Makes you a free agent. There are plenty of eligible bachelors in this city who would enjoy tucking you under their chin and risking internal decapitation when Tim finds out.”
“You’re cruel and mean.” I cross the city and find the red and blue lights that precede every dead body I’ve ever seen.
Except one.
Bringing the car as close as I possibly can without crossing the yellow police tape, I pull to a stop and shut off the engine with a quick snap of my wrist. Snagging the keys and unsnapping my belt, I slide out and go to the trunk to get our murder bag. “Do you see him?”
Minka slips out on her side, hunkering into her coat and casting her eyes around the closed off intersection sprinkled in snow. Ambulances are already here. Paramedics. A half-dozen police cruisers. And uniformed officers dressed in blue .
“I see one Malone.” She glances back when I slam the trunk closed. “My favorite one.”
“You think you’re being cute, but I can’t actually say for certain which Malone is your favorite. I know you married one, but you fight the least with Micah, and you threaten Felix the most. Tim supplies coffee and food. And Cato sleeps on your couch. Archer gives you the O’s, but I dunno, Minnie… if I had to put money on it, I might bet Micah wins.”
“Call me Minnie again, and I’m making you run every advanced decomp that presents from now until next Christmas.”
“You mean Christmas in a couple of weeks?”
“No.” She looks me up and down with fierce, brown eyes. “The one after that. Now catalog this scene for me. With a medical examiner’s eye, but also, a crime scene investigator’s eye, since clearly you enjoy that, too.”
“Well…” I cast Tim out of my mind. And New York. My bad mood. And Cato Malone’s infectious and infuriatingly easy grin. Then I study the dark green sedan crumpled against the side of a brick building. The hood has folded like an accordion and the doors are bent out of shape.
“Single car accident. Two thousand something, car. Early two thousands. Four doors, sunroof, sedan, five seats. Detective Malone mentioned four injured and one deceased, so the vehicle was at capacity. It’s barely nine in the morning, which makes it quite early for someone to be driving under the influence. Though not unheard of.”
“Do you see the vics?”
“I see four, separated, bleeding patients, one in each ambulance. All are sitting on their own accord. I see the fifth, deceased, laid out on the crumpled hood.”
“Alright. Let’s get closer. The alive patients aren’t for us. We speak for the dead.”
“Yes, Chief.” I tighten my grip around the handle of our murder bag and quicken my pace as we approach the taped off car. The ache of early death settles in the base of my stomach, and the pain of the deceased’s friends is like a hammer to the side of my skull. Glass shards litter the road, because every single window of the car, including the sunroof, has blown out. Blood spray paints the brick wall and dribbles down the side of the car. So even if our decedent didn’t die from traumatic head injury, he’d be gone from blood loss at this point.
“Detectives Malone and Fletcher.” Minka steps under the yellow tape when Archer lifts it. “This is… gruesome. ”
“It’s our thing.” He holds the tape for me too and winks when I duck under. “Recorder on yet, Doctor Emeri?”
“Not yet. Tim’s not here?”
He chuckles. “This doesn’t look mob-related, so he’s happy to stay away. Did you, uh…” He brings his hand up and scratches his stubbled jaw. “Have a nice night?”
“Shut up.” I reach into my bag and take out my recorder, then I make a show of switching it on and waving it in Archer’s face, then Fletch’s, when he wanders around from the other side of the car. “Good morning, Detectives.”
Playing along, Fletch gives a small, gentlemanly bow, but pain radiates from his eyes when the silly gesture hurts his leg.
“I’d like you to run primary on this one, Doctor Emeri.” Ignoring the detective, Minka sets her hands on her hips. “From start to finish. You’ll assess the scene, I’ll document it. You’ll cut in house, and then you’ll log the patient in to the fridges on level two. Your security pass, your authority.”
She’s putting me in charge during the most stressful week of my life. Awesome ! “Sure.” I set my bag on the ground a few feet from the car and snag two sets of gloves. I pass one pair to Minka and slide the second pair onto my hands. Then I do the same with booties, to cover our shoes. I take out the camera and pass it along to my assistant, then I straighten again and make my way to the body.
Step one is observation. Description. What do I see, smell, hear? Beneath all that, and never on the official record, it’s about what I feel . And after that, what does the lab find under their scope? “Have you confirmed the vic is deceased, Detectives?”
“I checked for a pulse,” Fletch volunteers. “Waited a minute, no signs of life. I also checked his pupils and tested them for light sensitivity. None was present.”
“Alright. Thank you.” I sidle up to the car and study the body laid out, stomach to steel. His arms splay to the sides, one flat against the hood while the other dangles over the edge and down, almost to touch the top of the wheel well. “Patient appears to be mid-forties to mid-fifties, given the graying in his hair and the well-developed wrinkles fanning from his eyes. His face is almost completely destroyed, blunt force trauma. Nasal bone is shattered, visually conclusive. Zygomatic bones, mandible, maxilla, and supraorbital foramen, damaged. This patient’s face met with an extremely solid surface, at a tremendously fast speed. It would also appear the patient was not wearing a seatbelt, though we can check for pre-mortem bruising to confirm.”
“How could you know?” Minka tests me, like always. “He’s on the outside of the car. We can assume there was no seatbelt. But how would you know for sure?”
“If he was wearing a seatbelt, and it failed because of the force of his body flying forward, then there would be indicators on his skin and below it. Bruising will be evident.”
“Good. What else do you see?”
“Bruising on his knuckles.” I crouch by his dangling hand and tilt my head to study the partially healed scabs. “These were not from this incident. Which means your victim had a scuffle in the last week.” I look up to find both detectives watching me. Not writing notes. Which means they already noticed the scabs. “It would be interesting to know who he fought and why.” Standing again, I cast my gaze further, to the top of his head and the shattered skull. But only partial. “His frontal bone is fragmented. But his parietal appears intact.”
“Which means what?” Minka presses again. “For the good detectives.”
“Adds credence to the fact he hit something face-first. Not with the top or back of his skull. Death would have been instant. Probably from the windshield, and if not that, then the bricks. Vic is wearing a windbreaker, sleeves down to his wrists, and tan pants down to his ankles. Hands, neck, and face are the only visible skin, so I can’t check for identifying features until we have him in my autopsy suite.” I bring my focus up to Archer. “Do you have an ID?”
“Yeah.” He takes out a plastic baggie and shows me the wallet he’s already collected from the vic. “It was in his back pocket, half hanging out when we arrived, so I nabbed it. Additionally,” he hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “His buddies confirmed his name. He’s forty-three years old. An investment banker with two kids, two cats, and a dog. We’ll make the death notification shortly. They,” again with the thumb, “are his colleagues. The driver,” he points to the ambulance furthest on the left, “has already blown in the bag and come back with a reading of point-one-three.”
“Which puts him over the legal limit…” Minka inserts. Though it comes out almost like a question.
“Puts him over by a long way and delivers us to vehicular manslaughter. But now we wanna know: premeditated or involuntary?”
“That’s your wheelhouse, Detective.” I fold my arms and keep my hands to myself for a minute more. I’ll touch soon. Then I cut. But until I’m ready… “We’ll run the body and tell you exactly the killing blow. We’ll even tell you what day he sustained the bruises on his knuckles, and I’ll let you know if he has anything hiding under his clothes. But whether that guy over there killed his buddy on purpose…”
“That’s on us,” he accepts with a nod. Then he looks at his wife and smirks. “Guess I better get to work. It was a pleasure, Chief. As always.”
She rolls her eyes and turns her attention to me. “Let’s document, bag the hands, turn him over, then put him in a van. I doubt we’ll discover a great deal of secrets from this one. Detectives will be at the George Stanley by this afternoon, so let’s make sure we have answers and COD for them.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” I earn a glare from the woman who married a mafioso turned good boy . But pissing her off helps ease the tension that likes to bubble in my blood. So I don’t even care anymore. She has the happily ever after. The awesome, devoted husband. The amazing support system. The brain most others would kill for. And the intimidation tactics I could never achieve, no matter how hard I try.
She has so much more than that, and most of it, she hasn’t verbalized for me to hear.
But I know. And so, for today, she can be my scapegoat.
“Let’s get started,” I announce with a sugary sly smile. “It’s already Wednesday, and I have a stupid dress to have fitted this afternoon. Do you know what you’re wearing yet?”
She snaps a picture of the deceased’s hands. “What day and time is the wedding?”
“Saturday. Ceremony’s at two.”
“Then I’ll decide what to wear on Saturday at one.” She lowers the camera and flashes a dimpled grin. “Not all of us require a salon day and professional seamstresses to attend someone else’s we’re gonna have so much sex tonight ceremony. Detective Malone said the vic was married and had a cute little doggy, too.”
“Well, no. He?—”
“Vic’s not wearing a wedding ring, though. That’s interesting…”