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“Sophie, then David,” she said.
“Chelsea didn’t want you to do that,” Arnett said in a sing-song voice.
“And I didn’t want my brother-in-law to cheat on my sister. Life doesn’t always go our way. But with someone out to kill these women, I don’t like the timing of this one bit.”
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
After Chelsea was safely on her way to the emergency room, paper cup carefully preserved for the ER toxicologist to test, Jo and Arnett went back inside. A jittery tension had seeped into the room; the previously focused conversations were now stilted, and punctuated by nervous glances. As word made its way around the room that Chelsea was safe and being tended to, people made their excuses and left. When the room was nearly empty, Arnett glanced at his watch and signaled to Jo.
Once out in the car, Arnett’s brows rose. “A fight and a fainting spell. Not what we anticipated, but interesting.”
“Very. The question is, was any of it integral to our murders?”
“We’ll find out soon enough, especially since Pratt’s little stunt will almost certainly guarantee us a warrant to look into him and Lucifer Lost.” He pulled out into the street.
Jo raked her lower lip with her teeth. “I’m just as interested in Chelsea’s fainting spell.”
He threw her a confused look. “You bagged the cup and sent it on. You think someone drugged her?”
“Actually, no. My first instinct was she’d faked it.”
“Either way, what would that have to do with the murders?”
Jo drew in a deep breath before answering, then told him about Sophie’s concerns. “She’s convinced Chelsea is up to something, and up until now I’ve taken that with a large grain of salt. Huge, actually.”
“She likes attention, that’s for sure,” Arnett said.
“No doubt. But…”
“But what?”
“Let’s say Sophie’s right. Let’s say Chelsea is consumed with getting David back, and she’s inventing or magnifying the problems with the pregnancy to get and keep his attention.”
“Okay.”
“And that didn’t get her what she wanted, so she stepped it up.”
“Playing up the pregnancy component of her friends’ murders for the sympathy it gets her from David?” Arnett asked.
“Something like that.” Jo tugged at her necklace.
Arnett slowed for a jay-walking pedestrian. “Spit it out, Fournier.”
“There’s nothing to spit out because I’m not sure what I’m thinking myself,” Jo said.
“But then why didn’t she want you to call David?”
“No, absolutely right. I’m looking for something that isn’t there.” Jo switched gears. “How do you feel about Julia’s explanation of the phone call with Naomie?”
“If Naomie didn’t tell her, it’s because she suspected Julia of stealing the money.”
“The more I think about it, the more I think if she did suspect Julia, she’d have been even more likely to tell her. As close as they were, I think she’d want to give her a chance to explain herself before she passed judgment.” Her hands flew to her necklace. “Julia’s lying to us.”
“Seems strange Julia would kill someone she’s so close to, even if it meant going to jail,” Arnett said. “But then, we haven’t looked too closely at Julia. Maybe she has priors for embezzlement and she’s not just looking at a short stretch. Wouldn’t be the first person to turn on a good friend when push came to shove.”
“It’s possible,” Jo said. “Because something here isn’t sitting right. My internal radar was already up based on both her refusal to take us up on police protection, and on her demeanor, and now it’s blaring and flashing red lights.”
“You mean the stand-offishness at the memorial service?”
