wonder why you’ve had so many life-and-death experiences,” she said, “but I think I’m beginning to figure it out.”
Dena groaned. “If one of us gets killed tonight, I’m going to be so fucking pissed off.”
We ended up sitting outside Leah’s house for an hour before reentering. Leah stepped in first and went straight for the front closet. She reached up to the top shelf, pulled down three old boxes and handed one to each of us.
Dena took hers gingerly. “What are these?”
“Unwanted wedding gifts that Bob and I never got around to giving away.” She pointed to the box in Dena’s hand. “That one’s a poor-quality crystal bud vase, and Sophie and I have equally poorly made condiment containers.”
Dena stared at her box for a beat before looking back up at Leah. “Why?”
“For self-defense, of course. If there’s still someone in the house you can hit him over the head with it without worrying that you might be breaking something that’s valuable to me.”
“Thank God for that,” Dena said dryly.
I exhaled loudly. “Come on, Leah, if someone was still here, we would have seen—”
“Excuse me, but it was my husband who was killed. I think that entitles me to insist on a few extra precautions.”
Dena removed the contents of her box with an air of disgust. “Well, if the intruder offers us flowers and homemade jam, we’ll be prepared.”
“Just humor me, all right?” Leah pulled out her condiment container and held it above her head threateningly. “Now, let’s investigate.”
Dena blinked and turned to me. “Is she kidding me with this?”
I shrugged and opened my box. “It’ll make her feel better.”
Dena watched as Leah and I moved forward, armed with our crystal. “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” She raised her bud vase and followed us through the house.
We walked into the living room first. All the pillows had been replaced. I sucked in a sharp breath and Leah quickly turned on the overhead light.
“This is good,” I said uncertainly. “Whoever was here obviously tried to cover up the evidence, which means he’s probably not the type who likes to hang around the scene of a crime.”
“Nothing about this is good,” Leah snapped. “All of this is very, very bad.”
Dena carefully checked behind the curtains. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m with Leah on this one. The whole situation sucks.”
“Things could always be worse,” I said doubtfully. “Let’s check the other rooms.”
We thoroughly checked the kitchen and dining room before gathering at the bottom of the stairwell. “Shall we?”
Leah and Dena nodded silently and we crept upstairs. Everytime one of us pulled back a curtain or knelt to look under a bed I felt my heart rate accelerate, but no one was there. We ended our search in the master bedroom. After Leah checked her closet, she slammed the door shut with enough force to send an echo through the room.
“This is too much! How am I supposed to wear anything in here when I know some pervert might have been sorting through all of it less than two hours ago?”
Dena fell back on the bed. “You really need to reexamine your priorities.”
“This had to mean something,” I said, glancing around the room. “Nothing’s stolen—so what did they want?”
“Perhaps the goal was to make my life a living hell.” Leah started yanking open each of the drawers in her dresser. She pulled out a plum-colored cashmere-blend sweater and held it up.
Dena propped herself on her elbows. “Cute top,” she said, eyeing the plunging neckline. “I bet it looks hot on you.”
Leah’s mouth formed a sad little smile. “I thought it did when I bought it. The salespeople told me the color was perfect for me, and even a few of the other women in the dressing area encouraged me to buy it, but when I tried it on for Bob…” Leah’s voice trailed off and she folded the sweater back up and returned it to the drawer. “He said the
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