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“Was the fight about your spending habits?”
Her nose wrinkled. “No. What would make you think that? The truth was, I don’t mind when Frankie spends time with other women. In fact, I encourage it. He encouraged it, with me.” She glanced toward the door, where Bruno had gone. “It keeps things interesting. But sometimes, I got the feeling . . .”
She stopped and bit her lip.
Daisy picked up the thread. “That he’s getting too serious? That he might replace you, too?”
Her brow wrinkled. “Sometimes. There was one woman. And I thought maybe he was going to Lyon to meet with her. She’s beautiful and rich, and an old flame of his. But he assured me, he wasn’t. It was just a party for Matteo.”
“What was her name?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s on his phone. That’s all.”
Bruno returned a moment later in a pair of board-shorts, holding an orange drink with a pineapple slice on the rim. He placed it on the table next to Kiki and produced the silk robe Daisy had previously seen discarded on the living room furniture inside. Helping her slip it over her shoulders, he said, “All she does is cry and go to therapy.”
Kiki shooed him away. “I’m so glad the internet exists,” she said, opening up her phone to her video chats. “See how many times I’ve called Dr. Tamblin? Six times today.”
Daisy barely had time to study the screen before she yanked it away. “He prescribed medication for you?”
“I’ve always taken a little something. But lately, he’s been having to up my dosage and give me something for my anxiety,” she said with a pout. “I can barely sleep anymore. I’m not used to being alone in bed. The stuff I take, it gives me nightmares.”
Her eyes met Bruno’s, and she sipped her drink greedily, sucking half of it down in a matter of seconds.
“You probably shouldn’t drink if you are on medication,” Daisy observed.
“Thanks, Mom. Anyway, are we done here? I have to go do something with my hair,” she said, standing up. “Tell Goldie I can’t help her. She’s wrong. And to leave me alone and let me grieve. You’ll see yourself out, I’m sure.”
She pointed to the gate, tossed her hair, and went into the house, not looking back.
Daisy was left alone with Bruno, who gave her a disapproving look. “Look, she’s really hurting. I know what it might have looked like, but I’m just trying to keep her mind off it. She’s really down. So if I were you, I’d look for someone else. There’s no way Kiki would’ve hurt her husband. She loved him.”
Daisy gave him a doubtful look. After everything she’d heard and seen, she wasn’t about to take this big lunkhead’s word for it.
She wanted to see what was on that phone.
Through the sliding door, she saw Kiki toss her phone on what looked like a kitchen island and jog up the stairs, her robe billowing behind her.
“You’d better get out of here,” Bruno said, tossing his shock of blonde hair from his face and motioning to the gate. “I have to go check on her and make sure she’s okay.”
He stepped through the door, sliding it closed as he went.
Daisy stared after him, watching his defined calves working as he jogged up the stairs after Kiki.
Then she stared at the phone, sitting alone on the counter.
This was her chance to see if Kiki Tate was telling the truth.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Daisy didn’t think too hard. The phone was right there, less than ten feet from her. The only obstacle between her and the confirmation she was seeking was a flimsy sliding door. That, and the fact that if she went inside the Tate villa without an invitation, she’d technically be trespassing.
But it was worth the risk, if she could easily make sure that Kiki Tate was telling the truth about making up with Franklin before his death.
And if Kiki was lying . . .
Well, that would make her all the more suspicious, and very likely, Franklin’s killer. She had the motive, the opportunity.
Yes, she had to know.
