“Stassi did this.” She inches back. “Everett, take your wife home. She’s clearly delusional. She needs rest. Think of the baby.”
Lil’ Mama belts out three testy barks. “She’s lying, Lottie. I can see it in her eyes. Mrs. Albright always said that you could see a lie plain as day in someone’s eyes, especially that of a cheat’s.”
“You did try to pin it on Stassi,” I say. “The both of you told us that Stassi was sleeping with Slater. It was you who started those rumors. It was a good cover while it lasted. Ariella, you tried to blame it on Jen, too, but that wasn’t sticking, was it? You were both sloppy. You told us that you heard Stassi lure Jasmine outside—a stark contradiction to what you told the sheriff’s department. You told them Jasmine was headed out to have a smoke. I bet you were getting nervous, grasping at straws at that point. But Jasmine didn’t smoke. She had asthma. That’s why she didn’t wear perfume either. Is that why you changed your story, Ariella? And said that Stassi lured Jasmine into the back parking lot? But it was you who did that, wasn’t it?” I nod to Slater and his expression grows hard.
“Is that true?” Everett’s voice is stern and loud. No mincing words. We’re at the finish line, and Everett and I are both determined to see this homicidal situation through.
“No.” Slater gives Everett a wild-eyed look as if I were losing my mind. “I didn’t come upon the scene until later.”
“I didn’t either.” Lil’ Mama barks. “But one of us is lying.”
“That’s right, Slater.” I lift a finger. “You came skidding out from the middle of the parking lot. The same direction those snowy footprints led to. But you were smart, you dug your feet in the snow and moved them side to side, smearing any definition your shoes would have provided.”
The incessant typing goes off like a thunderstorm brewing behind me, but I ignore it for the most part.
A silent laugh pumps from Slater. “You think you know everything.”
“She does,” Everett is quick to tell him. “You said Jasmine killed your record label. Is that why you killed her?”
Ariella takes a sharp breath. “I thought you said your record label was thriving?”
“It is,” he grits the words through his teeth as he glowers at her a moment.
“Hear that, Lemon?” Everett takes a deep breath. “It’s thriving.”
“Yes,” I say. “All the more reason to want Jasmine out of his life and away from that prospective alimony payment. But killing Jasmine wasn’t enough, was it, Slater? Someone else stood in the way. Judge Owen Kellerman, Ariella’s husband.”
Everett nods. “And with Owen gone, you opened the possibility of having just about anyone he wronged in the courtroom as a suspect.”
Slater stares Everett down a good long while.
“Owen had to go eventually,” Slater seethes. “Why not aid in making Jazzy’s death look like she was at the wrong place at the wrong time? Or at least it would have if your wife hadn’t meddled in it.”
A choking sound clogs my throat. “And you killed him with his own gun.” I shake my head. “Ariella, you took that gun from your husband and you handed it to the man you were having an affair with to do the dirty deed.”
Her lips curve and there’s a malevolence about her I haven’t seen before. “It was the perfect weapon,” she pants. “The very gun he said would never hurt anyone had hurt him in the end.”
Nell floats over. “Okay, Lottie. The atmosphere in the room has shifted. I suggest you and Everett leave now. I’d hate to say it, but your suspect is right. Think of the baby.”
Ariella smirks my way. “Owen was forever shoving that gun in my purse when we went out. I didn’t want it there. He was always making me do things that I didn’t want to do, like taking on Jazzy as a client. I did it as a favor to him. And I guess you can say I have him to thank for the new man in my life. Slater and I are happy. I think we should let go of the messy past—all of us. The four of us can keep this to ourselves. Nobody has to know about it.”
“That’s not going to happen.” The words seethe from me as Lil’ Mama echoes my words with a bark.
Slater gives a consolatory smile as he reaches for the back of his waist. “Then this is going to have to happen.”
He pulls a gun on us, and before I can blink, Everett lets go of my hand and has a gun pointed right back at them—my steel bestie, Ethel.
“What do you know?” Everett says. “I’m a quick draw, too.”
The muscles in Slater’s jaw tense up. “Don’t make me shoot. Don’t make me hurt your pregnant wife, Everett.”
My stomach seizes as if on cue, only this time it starts hard and only goes up from there.
“Oh God,” I cry out as my chin presses to my chest.
“Don’t worry, Lemon,” Everett whispers. “I won’t let them hurt you or the baby.”
“It’s not that,” Nell says. “She’s really in labor!”
But Everett doesn’t hear her. He’s holding that gun with both hands now and he has it trained right on Slater.
“Yes, we killed them,” Slater says. “It was the perfect plan. A busy venue, all the right suspects, the gun, even the cover of night was on our side.” A dark laugh strums from him. “But I guess we didn’t count on the two of you. You’re a brilliant woman, Lottie. Tell your husband to step aside so we can leave. The two of you will never hear from us again.”
Another hard groan comes from me before the contraction begins to subside.
The shelf to our right rattles and shakes and books go flying off it as if they had morphed into bats. I glance that way, but there’s
