Minka
“So she snuck out,” Archer murmurs, his heavy breath pulsing along the line.
“They seem like decent people. Like regular, hard-working folks who know the world sucks, but they’re no one’s victims. Instead of saying shit is too hard, so they’re not even gonna try, they’ve pushed through and achieved good things, finding success and making enough money to be comfortable.
And it sounds like they passed those values on to their kids. ”
“Guess they were doing things, or seeing people, her parents wouldn’t have approved of.”
“Dad got an alibi for the time of the shooting?”
Archer chuckles, the sound hitting my ear like a gentle pat of his hand on my butt.
“You and I sometimes think the same. Dad has a history in that world, and maybe he’s all straitlaced and professional now—he has his own financial firm these days—but you and I both know that kind of muscle memory doesn’t go away so easily. ”
“You think he did it to get rid of the boyfriend?”
“I asked,” he quips, his shirt ruffling as he moves.
“It had to be done, and he wasn’t surprised or offended when I did.
Claims he was home with the wife, and at the time they went to bed, all three of their kids were inside the home, locked up and safe.
Alibi is wobbly at best, but if we take him at his word… ”
“Then he didn’t do it. Wanted to,” I amend. “Probably dreamed of it. But it wasn’t him.”
“Plus, Clay’s statement has witnesses bolting in opposite directions.
Fletch and I have been door-knocking and collecting security footage since we left the hospital.
Talking to anyone who might’ve seen or heard anything.
So far, no one is saying shit, but they’re giving us whatever footage they have. ”
“And?”
He scoffs. “And so far, we’re no closer to figuring this out than we were yesterday. How’s dress shopping going?”
“Like I wanna jam a screwdriver in my eye socket.” I snag a seat by the far wall, shoving rolls of fabric to the floor, and frowning at the split in my dress as I sit and fold one leg over the other.
I haven’t shaved my legs today, and my skin is one shade darker than pasty white, thanks to my Egyptian ancestors and a weekend spent at the lake last month.
Hunching in on myself, my lungs pinch and squeeze in the tight constraints of a boned, corset-style gown.
Because Aubree takes pleasure in tormenting me.
“Eli is chattering about babies. Loudly. Fifi’s helping Mia with her dress and plaiting her hair and doing all sorts of sweet crap that she wasn’t doing when Fletch was here, like she didn’t want him to see. Oh! And the mayor—”
“The mayor?”
“The mayor called Fifi!”
“Er…” He stops moving. Stops walking. Stops breathing, even. “So?”
“So, he called her! I just know he knew she was here with us, and I know he wants to discuss the road trip from hell. Jen told him I tossed her off a building, Archer. So I know he’s waiting… watching… he’s setting his trap, and he’s coming for me.”
“Did he ask Fifi to hand you the phone? Did he ask her about you? Pumping her for information?”
“Well, no. Not that I know, but—”
“But you’re a weirdo,” he laughs. “What time are you leaving there?”
“I don’t know! It’s been hours already, and they’re still fliffing and flaffing and fluffing. They’re noisy and clucky and aggressive.”
“The fuck is fliffing and flaffing?”
“It’s annoying and weird, that’s what it is! But seeing as how you’re the primary detective, and you’re currently working a homicide investigation, you actually have the power to save me from this.”
“You think so?”
“I know so! You could say the words right now, Archer. Say you need your medical examiner on scene immediately, and I would have to go. It’s my job.”
“It’s…” He pauses, grunts, then continues, “Five o’clock. Thereabouts. Which means Lori’s will shut soon, and food will need to be consumed or the womenfolk will rebel. Tell Aubree and them to finish up, then go to the bar and eat.”
“Why should we even go to the bar anymore?” I sit back—my lungs force me to—and rest my head against the wall. “Aubree and Tim don’t stay there anymore. Tim hardly even works there. It’s just Daisy and her perky boobs running the place. So why the hell should I spend my time or money there?”
The lights flicker above my head, drawing everyone in Lori’s to silence.
The lights buzz and dim, brighten and dim again.
Music I didn’t even notice was playing skips and restarts.
But then the power settles again, the lights go back to normal, and the music continues on.
“The electricity is struggling. How is it where you are?”
“We’re at the station, and we have generators, so all is good here. It’s still hot as fuck, though, because the cooling can’t keep up.”
“Have you heard from Cato?” I bring my hand up and nibble on my pinky fingernail. “Has he checked on Steve? And probably Mrs. Mayweather, too. Since she’s as old as Noah.”
“He texted about an hour ago, but I’ll call him after we hang up if it makes you feel better.”
“I mean…” I drop my hand and stand again. Sitting is significantly less comfortable when you have a steel frame crushing your organs. “It’s fine. I’ll call him. I need a reason not to partake in the weird dress festivities, anyway. Being on the phone makes me look busy and less unkind.”
“Wouldn’t want to make them think you’re something you’re not.” He snickers. “Go back to the dress stuff. Try to pretend you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Why? That would be lying.”
“Try,” he presses. “Fletch and I are about to head into the war room so we can get a better picture of where we’re at with this. Then we’ll swing by the hospital on the way home and see if Molly is awake yet.”
“So… an hour?” I guess. “Two at the most.”
“An hour,” he agrees. “Two at the most. Eat something, or I won’t be pleased.
It’s infusion night, so get that done, too.
And if I get home and find my baby brother dead and stuffed in the oven because you couldn’t hold your temper, you’re gonna have to explain yourself to Christabelle.
She isn’t playing now that she’s on the other side of nine months pregnant and tired. ”
“If he learned to leave me the hell alone, he’d be fine.
” The power surges and dims again, so the electricity becomes a literal buzzing in the air.
Even with the cooling on, heat from outside pulses against the wall at my back, leeching into the bricks and neutralizing the effects of the air conditioner.
“I’m hanging up and calling him. Those apartments must be boiling by now. ”
“Alright. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I pull the phone away from my ear and end our call, then I jump to my list of contacts and select Cato’s name instead.
Mia throws herself from a low coffee table, slamming against Fifi’s chest, while Eli and Aubree chatter, and Ms. Penny sits on a long couch, her head tilted back and her eyes gently laid shut.
Jesus. Did anyone check her pulse lately?
“Yeah?” Cato answers with a grunt, his breath racing in and out. “What’s up, Minnnnka?”
“You’re already on the stairs? Good.” I run my free hand through my hair, dragging the locks off my skin if only to give myself a reprieve from the heat. “I was calling to make sure you’d checked in on Steve recently. He’s getting old, and his heart is fragile.”
“Yeah.” He skips down the stairs, rounding one landing and moving onto the next flight. “I’ll check on him. What are you doing?”
“Dress shopping.” I look up at the ceiling and watch the lights fight for their life, dimming and strengthening.
Blinking and stabilizing. “Aubree’s discussing the merits of an updo or keeping her hair down, and I…
” I drop my hand, letting it fall—splat—into my lap.
“Do not give a single shit what she does with it. You with Steve, yet?”
“Not yet.” His breath comes faster. Faster. “In a sec.”
“Oh God!” A woman cries out, the sound of her pleasure-filled groan like a single fucking shot to my spine. She whimpers and moans. “Yes, Cato! Like that.”
“Are you serious!” My back snaps straight, and my words come out in a shout, booming loud enough to draw Aubree and Eli to a standstill. Mia’s laughter stops. Fifi’s eyes swing to me. Even Penny wakes from the dead and looks this way. “Are you fucking serious right now, Cato!? In my apartment?”
“You ruined it.” And just like that, the racing breath I thought was from running down the fucking stairs slows, because he’s nowhere near the stairs. “You couldn’t wait just another second, Mayet?”
“IN MY APARTMENT? I’m going to kill you, dickface! I’ll rip your tongue out and feed it to the pigs.”
“I’m going. Jesus.” He slams the door in his wake, his feet stomping against the floor. “You called me, psycho. I told you I’d go to him in a second.”
“You were having s—” I lock eyes with Mia and choke the word down. It’s just three letters, but she’s already seen and heard too much in her short five years. “Dammit, Cato! Why even answer the phone?! Why not finish what you were doing, then call me back?”
“Uh, because I knew you were calling about your geriatric boyfriend, since Archer’s been on me about the old dude for hours.
Since I knew not answering would make you worry.
” Now he’s moving down the stairs. His breath races again, but it’s different.
“I was being thoughtful, and you couldn’t give me, like, thirty more seconds. ”
“I hate you.” The power drops out completely, startling my eyes up and my heart to stutter.
Sunlight beats against the windows, providing more than enough light not to notice the lack of electricity, but the music stops.
The constant hum of the cooling system silences.
The world turns quiet except for the thud-thud-thud of Cato’s footsteps in my ear and the single, droning honnnnnnk of a car outside.
Then the power kicks back in and the music restarts.