rose to my feet. Maria scrambled up. I chased her, my fists full of mud. "My fiancé is missing!" she called back to me over her shoulder.
"Uh, hello? I found Ginger Barlow's lipstick on Kevin's boxers!"
"Yeah, but why would Nate cheat on me ?!"
She must have been reading my homicidal thoughts, because she scampered away, mud splashing back at me as she ran.
She was fast, I'd give her that. As I chased her, I wondered at this weird competitiveness. This my-life-is-worse-than-yours thing we had going on. It was utterly stupid, yet . . .
I wanted to win.
I had to win.
Maria stopped short to avoid falling into the freshly dug pond, arms flailing. She lost her balance as she rocked, going down on her rear. Quickly, she scrambled away from the edge. I dove for her ankles before she could escape.
"I have dozens of relatives flying in!" she cried out. She kicked her foot out of my grasp, slithered sideways. "Yeah—all who seem to be staying with me !"
I grabbed her other foot, and she rolled onto her belly and tried to crawl away.
On hands and knees, I went after her. Abruptly she stopped, turned toward me, slightly pale.
Ah! Victory . "And," I said, slightly out of breath, "I have to make nicey-nice with Brickhouse Krauss!" Take that, I silently added.
Maria swiped a muddy lock of hair off her face, narrowed her eyes as she adopted her Grace Kelly look. "Well, I have a dead body in my pond."
It took a second for her words to register. I was too busy thinking ahead to the next miserable aspect of my life. Carefully, I edged toward the pond, hoping this wasn't a ploy to push me in.
I peered. Sure enough, there was a woman facedown, dressed all in black, in the shallow murky water, her hair floating around her head like a blonde halo.
Slowly, I looked back at Maria, who was looking rather smug. "You win."
Eleven
Best the medical examiner could tell without a full autopsy, Claire Battiste had been dead less than a day. I wasn't impressed. By now, two hours after Maria and I had found her body, everyone knew Claire had been seen at her office yesterday afternoon.
Kevin and Ginger Ho, er, Barlow had been questioning us since they'd arrived at Maria's. I cursed my luck that there weren't any other homicide detectives on duty. I pulled a blanket tighter around my muddy shoulders as two burly medical personnel carried the stretcher with Claire's body on it, zipped inside what looked like a Gor-Tex cocoon. I shuddered.
Kevin rubbed his chin. "Tell me again why you two were out in the mud?"
Maria looked up at him, arched a muddy eyebrow. "We were dumping a dead body in the pond." I gave her a sharp jab with my elbow.
Her high-pitched voice scraped my eardrums raw. "What? They've asked us the same questions over and over."
I glanced up at Kevin, gave him my best please-help-me face. It wasn't hard considering I looked the way I did. "Detective Barlow, why don't you walk Ms. Ceceri through the events."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maria's lips press into a thin, tight line. Her control over her temper was being sorely tested.
As they walked away, toward the pond, Kevin picked up a lock of my mud-covered hair. It crunched between his fingers. "Mud's good for the skin, right? Same for hair?" I was in no mood. "Can we go now?"
We'd been through everything that had happened in the last two days—from Nate's disappearance to our trip to the Kalypso that morning. "Not yet."
I sat on the concrete step leading from the back door to the patio. "Maria called me last night," I said. "She'd thought she heard something back here . . . I thought she was just being paranoid after the break-in at the condo."
"Did she come out and look around?"
I shook my head. Mud crackled and fell to the ground. "No, but she did look out the window. She didn't see anything." "Is there any chance Nate was sleeping with Claire?"
I looked him straight in the eye. "I don't think so. Nate's not that kind of guy. Of course, I didn't think you
"Uh, hello? I found Ginger Barlow's lipstick on Kevin's boxers!"
"Yeah, but why would Nate cheat on me ?!"
She must have been reading my homicidal thoughts, because she scampered away, mud splashing back at me as she ran.
She was fast, I'd give her that. As I chased her, I wondered at this weird competitiveness. This my-life-is-worse-than-yours thing we had going on. It was utterly stupid, yet . . .
I wanted to win.
I had to win.
Maria stopped short to avoid falling into the freshly dug pond, arms flailing. She lost her balance as she rocked, going down on her rear. Quickly, she scrambled away from the edge. I dove for her ankles before she could escape.
"I have dozens of relatives flying in!" she cried out. She kicked her foot out of my grasp, slithered sideways. "Yeah—all who seem to be staying with me !"
I grabbed her other foot, and she rolled onto her belly and tried to crawl away.
On hands and knees, I went after her. Abruptly she stopped, turned toward me, slightly pale.
Ah! Victory . "And," I said, slightly out of breath, "I have to make nicey-nice with Brickhouse Krauss!" Take that, I silently added.
Maria swiped a muddy lock of hair off her face, narrowed her eyes as she adopted her Grace Kelly look. "Well, I have a dead body in my pond."
It took a second for her words to register. I was too busy thinking ahead to the next miserable aspect of my life. Carefully, I edged toward the pond, hoping this wasn't a ploy to push me in.
I peered. Sure enough, there was a woman facedown, dressed all in black, in the shallow murky water, her hair floating around her head like a blonde halo.
Slowly, I looked back at Maria, who was looking rather smug. "You win."
Eleven
Best the medical examiner could tell without a full autopsy, Claire Battiste had been dead less than a day. I wasn't impressed. By now, two hours after Maria and I had found her body, everyone knew Claire had been seen at her office yesterday afternoon.
Kevin and Ginger Ho, er, Barlow had been questioning us since they'd arrived at Maria's. I cursed my luck that there weren't any other homicide detectives on duty. I pulled a blanket tighter around my muddy shoulders as two burly medical personnel carried the stretcher with Claire's body on it, zipped inside what looked like a Gor-Tex cocoon. I shuddered.
Kevin rubbed his chin. "Tell me again why you two were out in the mud?"
Maria looked up at him, arched a muddy eyebrow. "We were dumping a dead body in the pond." I gave her a sharp jab with my elbow.
Her high-pitched voice scraped my eardrums raw. "What? They've asked us the same questions over and over."
I glanced up at Kevin, gave him my best please-help-me face. It wasn't hard considering I looked the way I did. "Detective Barlow, why don't you walk Ms. Ceceri through the events."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maria's lips press into a thin, tight line. Her control over her temper was being sorely tested.
As they walked away, toward the pond, Kevin picked up a lock of my mud-covered hair. It crunched between his fingers. "Mud's good for the skin, right? Same for hair?" I was in no mood. "Can we go now?"
We'd been through everything that had happened in the last two days—from Nate's disappearance to our trip to the Kalypso that morning. "Not yet."
I sat on the concrete step leading from the back door to the patio. "Maria called me last night," I said. "She'd thought she heard something back here . . . I thought she was just being paranoid after the break-in at the condo."
"Did she come out and look around?"
I shook my head. Mud crackled and fell to the ground. "No, but she did look out the window. She didn't see anything." "Is there any chance Nate was sleeping with Claire?"
I looked him straight in the eye. "I don't think so. Nate's not that kind of guy. Of course, I didn't think you
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