And Greta? Had she gotten in the way?
I looked up. Uh-oh.
“You,” Kevin said, approaching me. “Come with us.”
“Us” included Ginger. My day just kept getting better and better.
Officers had begun roping off the house with crime scene tape. Kevin led me back to his car, an unmarked black Crown Vic with a long antenna on its trunk.
Ginger followed. She was tall, with long legs that reminded me of the spider in my window. Her hair was tied back in a long ponytail. She had beautiful wide eyes, full lips, a kind, caring face. If I were being truthful, she was gorgeous.
I hated that about her.
I sat there through thirty minutes of Kevin and Ginger’s repetitive questions, trying not to compare myself to her. I told them over and over what I knew, what I saw. I even reminded them about Greta’s visitor the other day. And I even told them about the missing account books.
That’s me. Nina Colette Good Citizen Ceceri Quinn.
While I was at it, I shared my theory about why the Lockharts had hired me—to induce a heart attack on purpose.
Kevin didn’t say anything at that, just arched an eyebrow.
Hmmph.
“Anything else?” he finally said.
“I told Riley I’d pick him up tonight, so you don’t have to.”
“He called.”
Ginger wandered off.
Kevin looked over his shoulder, watched her go, then turned back to me. “What’s with that call this morning?”
“You called me.”
He stepped in. He smelled good. “You know what I mean.”
160
Heather Webber
“Nope.”
“Nina . . .”
“Kevin.”
“Are you having second thoughts?”
And thirds and fourths. I played dumb. “About what?”
“About us.”
His sparkly green eyes lingered on my lips. It felt like the temperature had gone up a few degrees. I was suddenly sweating, and suddenly worried my deodorant wasn’t strong enough, thanks to what Kit had said yesterday.
“Us?”
“Yes, us.”
The divorce would be final in seven days. I put my hand on my stomach, but it didn’t help the pain.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Maybe I’d call the doctor when I got back, see if she’d fit me in.
“When’d you last eat?”
I thought about it, figured it was those egg rolls last night.
No wonder my stomach hurt. “I’m okay. Really.”
With his finger, he lifted my chin. “I don’t like what’s going on here,” he said.
“With us?”
He smiled. “I knew there was more to that call this morning.”
I scowled.
“I actually meant with the Grabinskys. You be careful.
Don’t get any ideas about snooping. I know how you are.”
“Yes, sir.” My fingers were crossed behind my back.
As soon as he turned, I looked around for Kate Hathaway, found her at the edge of the gathering crowd. I just wanted to ask her a few questions before I left.
