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“Stay?” Kit asked, holding out a spoon.
“Like you could get rid of me,” Akiko scoffed.
“Rita’s in our old room,” Kit said around a mouthful of ice cream.
“In Wren’s old bed,” Akiko said with a sad smile.
“Your old bed,” Kit corrected, but Akiko was right. It would always be Wren’s old bed. “Mom gave Rita Wren’s copy of Coraline.”
“I loved that story.” Akiko grinned. “Especially because it freaked you out so bad. You could talk about killers and bodies and crime scenes like it was nothing, but the Other Mother with buttons for eyes gave you nightmares.”
Kit shuddered. “Still does.”
“I know, honey.” Akiko got another spoonful of ice cream and held it up to Kit’s spoon. “To a night without bad dreams.”
Kit touched her spoon to Akiko’s. “To sisters who do double time as best friends.”
Akiko smiled. “You are not unfeeling, Kit McKittrick. You feel too much.”
Kit sighed. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? I got a rep.”
“My lips are sealed.”
SDPD, San Diego, California
Tuesday, April 19, 8:30 a.m.
Kit held the box of Betsy’s cupcakes out to Howard Cook. “Congratulations on the Mendoza case. And thank you.”
Howard smiled. “Just ran with the ball. You threw the pass.”
“Did you make these?” Connor asked suspiciously.
“No, my mom did,” Kit said, not taking offense. “You’re safe.”
“Excellent.” Connor took one, then sat at Kit’s desk and began peeling the cupcake wrapper, getting crumbs everywhere. “Bring us up to speed.”
“I got us a meeting room.” Kit scowled at the mess on her desk. “Clean that up first, though. God.”
She turned on her heel, Howard following behind her, the cupcake box in his hands.
Grumbling, Connor brushed the crumbs into her wastebasket, then shoved the cupcake into his mouth. A whole cupcake. He was a big guy, but that was still piggish.
“Sorry,” Howard murmured. “I’ve been trying to housebreak him, but it’s not working.”
Kit had to bite back a laugh while Connor made a grumbling noise in his throat. Howard was in his midfifties and Connor was maybe a year older than Kit. Howard had been Connor’s trainer and he’d succeeded at that. They were both good detectives, so Kit would cut Howard a little slack on the failed housebreaking.
They took their seats around the table and Kit briefed them on the case thus far.
“A man with gray hair and glasses who drove a Mercedes?” Connor asked doubtfully. “That’s not a lot to go on.”
“More than we had yesterday,” Kit said, “but yeah. Not a lot.”
“I think the audition is going to be more helpful,” Howard said. “So, according to Dr.Reeves, Naomi got offered an audition and told no one. We believe that Naomi ended up dead. Are we believing Reeves’s account of his conversation with the Beckhams?”
Kit nodded. “For now, yes.”
“Okay,” Howard said. “So, again, Naomi ended up dead. I wonder if the other victims had the same experience, being offered an audition.”
