Page 17 of Over Her Dead Body

“What kind of husband was he?”

The question finds somewhere soft and presses.

“Until today, I would’ve said a good one.”

His fingers tighten around the glass.

My phone vibrates against the table.

Margot.

Bauer approved a private viewing. 9:00 Friday morning. Celeste expects you in the room.

A second message appears.

Call me. Now.

There goes morning.

If I leave now, I may still be able to salvage part of the day. Airport. Ticket. Vienna. Apology later.

I know exactly what I should do.

I turn the phone facedown and finish the wine.

Reid watches me.

“You should answer that.”

“I should do several things.”

The bartender notices my empty glass and brings the bottle.

I let him refill it.

It is a generous pour. Under ordinary circumstances I would notice that before taking three swallows of it.

This one goes down easier.

“What happens if I tell you you’re right?” Reid asks.

“You tell me why you faked your death.”

“And then?”

“I leave.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you followed a stranger from Texas to Portugal.”

“You’re not a stranger.”

“That’s the part you can’t prove.”

The heavy door opens.