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“But you said?—”
“Those he can confirm. That’s a big enough job as it is. He’s picking through their lives and searching for a connection that might lead to homicide.”
The sales lady plops my tissue paper parcel into a glossy bag, then she sets the bag on the desk with a flourish. “Fifteen thousand dollars, please.”
“Fiftee—” I shake my head. “Excuse me?”
“Fifteen thousand,” she speaks slower, like I’m hard of hearing. “Jamaican dollars.”
“Which is how many American?” Sick to my stomach, I reach into my pocket for my key card and know I don’t have fifteen thousand anythings to give this woman. “Translate, please.”
“That’s approximately ninety-six American,” Aubree fills in. “According to Google.”
“Jesus.” Swallowing the ball of nerves lodged in my throat, I tap my card and snarl when the woman merely smiles. “That’s a lot of numbers, ya know?”
“You just paid a hundred dollars for a tiny piece of lace,” Aubree teases. “I hope the make-up sex is worth it.”
“Shut up.” I snatch my bag and grumble my thanks to the saleslady, then I swing away from the counter and tiptoe toward the door to search for Archer. If he’s out there, I can’t sneak away. “Fletch has determined homicide?”
“Fletch doesn’t have a lot of options,” Aubree snickers. “It’s poison, Chief. We haven’t pinpointed the exact chemical makeup of this poison, but still. Seems murder-y to me.”
“Professional of you,” I drawl. When I deem the coast clear, I open the heavy glass door and hiss when I walk straight into the corner of the glossy underwear bag. “Where is Detective Fletcher up to in his investigation? Is he heading over here to get his feet on the ground?”
Instantly, she scoffs. “No way. The department isn’t paying for him to fly to the Caribbean islands. But he’s been in discussions with the local authorities, I believe. He’s got someone over there, interviewing the hotel people.”
“Second-hand information,” I grumble. “Nothing bad ever happened during a game of Telephone.” Stepping outside the store, I duck left and charge through a lane of stalls predominantly run by women. More hats. More clothes. Shoes. Souvenirs. “Alright. What do you need from me?”
“Information on this wedding I’m allegedly not invited to. We haven’t finished our last conversation, Mayet! You’re gettinghitched and you’re not including me, your very best friend in the whole wide world. What the frack?!”
“You went to my first wedding.” I emerge at the edge of the shopping lane and come to a screeching stop at a street bustling with bikes. Cars. Scooters. And people. So many people!
If I duck out with bad timing and get clipped by one of them, I’m going to the hospital for an infusion and bleeding management, and Archer is going to give me theI told you solook.
TheI knew I shouldn’t have left you alonelook.
TheI always worry about you and see! This is whylook.
TheI can’t trust you not to kill yourself when I’m not watching. So from now on, I’m never taking my eyes off youlook.
“I didn’t get a choice on the wedding thing, Aubs. I mean…” Carefully, I step into the flowing tide of human beings and angle toward the hotel. “I had a choice in accepting his proposal or not. But the actual wedding, the being on a boat in the middle of the ocean…” I shake my head. “I can’t plop you in a helicopter and fly you here on a whim. And besides, you’re running my building while I’m gone. You’re gonna be okay.”
“I want to help you with the dress selection.” She pouts. Lip popped forward, child-like sulking that I don’t even need toseeto know it exists. “Have you picked your dress?”
“Not yet.” I step to the left, avoiding being mowed down by an electric scooter. “I was supposed to pick yesterday, but I got distracted with other stuff.”
“Yeah,” she grumbles. “The sex kind of stuff. How many times have you banged this week, boss?”
“Not an appropriate question to ask your superior.”
“Because I can tell you how many timesI’vehad sex. Do you want to know? I can give you an exact, round fricken number!”
“You’re sleeping in my apartment.” I spy the convention center one block up, so I quicken my steps and pull the phone from my ear to check the time.Eleven-eleven. “Your bed and his bed share a wall, Aubs. Put on something sexy, walk over there, and get some.”
“Har-har, fricken-har,” she growls. “One doesn’t just de-robe in front of Timothy Malone and expect it to go well.”
“Wanna bet?” Chuckling, I let my walk turn into a power-walk-thing. Not running. But not a stroll, either. “I’d bet you a giant boat and two bartenders with six-pack abs that de-robing in front of Tim would achieveexactlythe outcome you’re looking for.”
“Agree to disagree. Especially considering mymoving-onstance. I’m not interested in being with him anymore.”
