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“Oh my god,” Christabelle groans. Behind me and Aubs, she looks at Fifi, her face pale. “They’re competing over dead people?”
“Like I said,” Fifi drawls. “They’re weird.”
“My sixty-three trumps your over-inflated forty. Thus…” As soon as the elevator dings and the doors slide open, Aubs strides out. “Winner-winner, don’t eat the chicken dinner at the Evicta Conference.”
“First thing Monday!” I bolt out behind her, gritting through my teeth, “We’re pulling the entire George Stanley team in for a meeting on workplace appropriateness. This!” I smack her arm because she won’t slow to let me rant at her, “This is not okay, Aubree.”
“Shush.” She comes to a stop outside Veronica’s office and smooths her shirt. “You’re on vacation, which means for as long as you’re in Jamaica, your Chief M.E. authority ceases to exist. That means I’m not being belligerent. You’re not gonna fire me. I’ll still have a job,anda best friend when we get back to work.” She lifts her foot, moving her ankle to make the delicate chain circling the limb glitter beneath the lights above. “See? Besides, when you see I’m right, you’ll forget I was being smirky and obnoxious.”
“How could I forget?” I sneer. “You’re always smirky and obnoxious.”
“It’s part of my charm. Okay.” Setting her foot down and standing tall, she glances over her shoulder to our prisoners. Or, well,friends. “You don’t have to speak.”
“Don’t speak.” I peer across to them, too, but my voice is harder. “Absolutely do not speak at all. Aubree’s tirade aside, this is still a murder investigation, and I’m still the boss. It’s my job to protect all of you while we’re here.”
“We’re going in gentle.” Aubree calms her voice. Lowers it. “Veronica has information we want. But we don’t have badges. So that means she’s gonna have towantto give it to us.”
“Or…” I grab her arm before she opens the door. “You could call Detective Fletcher, give him the information you claim to have, ask him to follow it up. Then we all live to see another day.”
“You’re afraid of that sweet lady in there?” she questions. “Don’t be. She’s lovely.”
“No. Mostly I’m afraid of being caught so blatantly working on my honeymoon. Add in that if you get hurt, Tim will skin me. And if you,” I look at Debbie, “get hurt, I’m pretty sure Felix will skin the entire eastern coastline.”
“Oh sure, jerk.” Fifi huffs. “No one loves me. I get it.”
“Actually,” Aubs sniggers. “If Fifi gets hurt, pretty sure Fletch will kill us all. But…” she tosses her hair back and straightens her shoulders. “Like I said, it’s a non-issue. Let’s go in nice and quiet. Carefully. Extract the information we need. Then we move on to the next step. If we get this done right, we’ll be back in time for the wedding.”
“Jesus.” I have no other choice. Other options simply don’t exist. I’m a prisoner to my best friend while she’s on this power trip. And this week, while I’m wearing bikinis instead of latex gloves and a white, surgical coat, she’s tripping all the way to Jamaica. “Fine,” I huff. “Okay. Be charming.”
“I’ve got this under control.” She draws a deep breath until her lungs fill and her chest expands. Then she releases it againand nods. Just once. Finally, she brings her hand up and knocks on the door. “Ms. Cain?” As planned, her voice is sweet. Unobtrusive. “It’s Doctor Emeri. We spoke on the phone earlier this week.”
“Of course. Come on in.” Bangles jingle, the sound audible even through the solid wall. Keys on a keyboard clack. And as Aubree opens the door, the whine of a balance ball squeaks as the woman shifts her weight.
Four of us file into the office filled to the brim with bright, pretty things. Curtains, that aren’t curtains at all, but rather, scarves, maybe. Hand woven wall decorations. Sun catchers in the windows. The overpowering scent of incense burning, and the telltale trail of smoke spiraling from the top.
Where my office is glass and tiles and dark furniture, this woman prefers color. Noise. Smell. She treats her senses, while I prefer to provide mine no distraction at all, so I can use them to focus on the work instead.
Veronica wants to smell pine needles, rosemary, and perhaps a little mint while on the clock. I use my nose to smell disease in a patient’s body. She wants to see color. I’d prefer to look at slides under a microscope. And she wants music with flutes and string instruments.
I… well, actually, sometimes we listen to music too. But most often, I’d prefer to listen to Aubree’s rundown of the victim we currently have on the table.
I work to remain ahead of my colleagues. A protective stance. But at the same time, I keep watch of the door, to ensure no one follows us in here. I’m one person, trying to keep three others, four if I include Veronica, safe from someone who killed sixty-three people this week. And all the while, I do it in wedge sandals.
Wedge fricken sandals!
“Four extremely beautiful women.” Veronica’s smile is friendly. Sweet. Her eyes glitter with kindness. “What an absolute pleasure.”
“Hi, Ms. Cain.” I step forward to take the lead. “My name is Doctor Minka Mayet, and these are my coll?—”
“You killed those people!” Aubree inserts, startling me as I whip my hand back again. “You killed sixty-three people, Veronica! And I know it’s because you lost your little boy to cancer.”
I wrench my head around and stare at the side of her face. “I thought we were coming in gentle?”
Veronica drops her hand too. She stumbles back a step and plops down, listlessly, until her familiar bangles clatter and her balance ball groans. Her eyes, so kind, so sweet, fill with tears and spill over.
Great. We’re in a room with a mass murderer. And she’s already skipped right past denial.
“Dammit, Aubree!”
