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d the conversation cold.
They had heard that comment, or a version of it, their entire lives. “Shelley looks like Dad but has Mom’s coloring, and I look like Mom but have Dad’s coloring,” Jaine said automatically. Shelley was tall, almost five inches taller than Jaine, and lanky and blond. The blond hair was purchased, but looked good with Shelley’s hazel brown eyes.
“Are you staying with her today?” Sam asked Shelley.
“I don’t need anyone to stay with me,” Jaine said. “Yes,” said Shelley.
“Run interference and keep the reporters away from her, okay?”
“I don’t need anyone to stay with me,” Jaine repeated.
“Okay,” Shelley said to Sam.
“Fine,” Jaine said. “This is just my house. No one pay any attention to me.”
Shelley whacked off two slices of cucumber. “Tilt your head back and close your eyes.”
Jaine tilted and closed. “I thought I was supposed to lie down for this.”
“Too late.” Shelley plopped the cold green slices on Jaine’s sore eyelids.
Oh, that felt good, cold and moist and incredibly soothing. She would probably need an entire grocery bag full of cucumbers before Marci’s funeral was over, Jaine thought, and just like that the sadness was back. Sam and Shelley had pushed it away for a few moments, and she was grateful to them for the respite.
“I got a call from the investigating detective,” Sam said. “Marci’s boyfriend, Brick, was in jail in Detroit from Thursday night until late Sunday afternoon. He’s in the clear.”
“A stranger broke in and killed her?” Jaine asked, removing the cucumber slices and raising her head to look at him.
“Whoever it was, there was no sign of forced entry.”
She had read that much in the morning paper. “You know more than you’re telling, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Cops always know more than they tell.”
And he wasn’t going to divulge any details; she could tell by the way his expression slipped into his cop mask. She tried not to imagine what those details might be.
He drained his coffee and rinsed out the cup, turning it upside down on the drainboard. Then he bent down and kissed her, the pressure on her mouth warm and brief. “You have both my pager and cell phone numbers, so if you need me, call.”
“I’m okay,” she told him, and meant it. “Oh—Do you know if Marci’s sister is here?”
He shook his head. “She’s gone back to Saginaw. There’s nothing she can do here, yet. The house is still cordoned off, and an autopsy is required in murder cases. How long that will take depends on the M.E.’s workload. The funeral may not be until this weekend.”
That was another detail she didn’t want to think about, Marci’s body lying on a refrigerated slab for several days.
“I’ll go to work tomorrow, then. I’d like to help her sister with the arrangements, if she wants, but I don’t guess there’s anything to do yet.”
“Not yet.” He kissed her again, then lifted her hands, still holding the cucumber slices, and replaced them on her eyelids. “Keep them there. You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, and heard him chuckle as he left.
There was that silence again. Then Shelley said, “He’s different.”
Different from Jaine’s three ex-fiancés, she meant. No joke. “Yeah,” she agreed.
“This looks pretty serious. You haven’t known him for long.”
If Shelley only knew! She was probably counting the entire three weeks Jaine had lived here. There was no telling what she would say if she knew that for the first two of those weeks Jaine had thought Sam was either a drunk or a drug dealer.
“I don’t know how serious it is,” she said, knowing she was lying. “I’m not rushing into anything.” For her part, she couldn’t get much more serious. She was in love with the big jerk. Exactly how or what he felt was still open for discussion.
