Page 17 of Done Dirty

“Thanks,” Jack said. “You’ve been a big help. You know where Paige and Becca are?”

“In the community room,” he said.

We crossed the lobby toward the hallway to the left of the elevator. It ran along the back of the building, past a glass door that looked out on a small shaded courtyard and then a separate pool area.

“How do people live in places like this?” I asked Jack.

“Convenience,” he said. “And some people like it.”

“In the middle of everything, with people you don’t know all up in your business.”

“It’s the condo version of living in a small town. Sounds just like Bloody Mary to me. They just have less space and no place to escape to like we do.”

I grunted and figured he was probably right. It was hard to escape people. I’d spent years trying.

The community room was the second door on the left.

Two women were sitting next to each other at a long mahogany table that could have seated twelve. The room had been designed for private dining and small gatherings—built-in cabinetry along one wall with a wine refrigerator and a coffee station, framed architectural prints, recessed lighting on a dimmer that someone had left at about half. It smelled like leather and fresh flowers. A small arrangement of white peonies sat in a low vase at the center of the table.

One of the women had both hands wrapped around a paper cup and her eyes down. The other sat with her hands flat on the table, watching the door.

I looked at the one with the paper cup and it took me a second to realize I knew her.

“Becca?” I said.

She looked up. She had thick dark hair, dark eyes, a square jaw, and Tom Daly’s coloring. She was beautiful considering how much she looked like her father. It had been a couple of years since I’d last seen her. The last I’d heard she’d gone out of state to college.

“Dr. Graves.” Her voice was steady.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” Jack asked.

“Yes, I called him.” She set the cup down. “He’s worried, but I told him I’m okay. Finding a dead body wasn’t really on my summer vacation list.”

The woman next to her made a small noise, and Becca winced, rubbing her shoulder in support. “I’m sorry, Paige. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” the woman whispered.

Becca was a pretty woman, there was no doubt about that, but sitting next to Paige Marsh made her almost invisible. Paige was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, even with red eyes and tearstained cheeks.

Jack pulled out a chair and sat across from Paige. “I’m Sheriff Lawson. What’s your name?”

“Paige,” she said as I took the seat next to Jack. “Paige Marsh.”

“You’re looking pretty pale, Paige. You doing okay?”

“I threw up in the trash can,” she said. “I feel better now, but I’d like to go to bed soon.”

I could smell the lingering scent of vomit and alcohol on her breath.

“Have you been drinking this morning?” I asked her.

“Mostly all night,” she said, color coming into her cheek. “A little this morning. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

“We just need to ask you a few questions about what happened upstairs,” Jack said smoothly.

“Wade broke up with me a couple of days ago,” Paige said, her voice breaking. “Just like that. Out of the blue. Told me to find another place to live.” She shrugged. “I was shocked. And embarrassed. All I could think about was getting out as fast as I could. So I walked out and went straight to Becca’s. Called in sick to work. I didn’t even bring a change of clothes with me. I felt so stupid.”

A tear escaped and slid down her cheek.