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“So we’ll have Sera bring Diane’s kids up first. They give us some spit and get sent away again. Then Lori does the same with her two.” Fletch paces Minka’s office and keeps a keen eye on the elevator. “We’re not letting the wives cross paths yet, and we’re sure as shit not letting the kids see each other. Diane is already semi-aware of what’s going on, since she knows someone else has claimed him, but Lori has no clue any of this is happening. Let’s keep it that way for now, so we don’t end up with pandemonium inside the George Stanley.”
“I appreciate that.” Minka remains perched on the edge of her desk. Her eyes on Humphrey, who happily dozes, his back legs twitching while he dreams of running through a field of sunflowers—or something like that. “We don’t need drama in here.”
“What we need is to figure out who the fuck killed this dude,” I mutter. “Proving he has a couple of identities is all good and fun, but we still need to connect him to whoever took his life.”
“More than one identity is a bit sketch.” Aubree stops at the end of the couch and tilts her head to study the unfamiliar dog. “And both wivesandthe business partner have mentioned Florida. So maybe something’s happening there you should know about.”
“I don’t wanna go to Florida,” I groan. “Let’s keep this one close to home for as long as we can. If we have to fly out there, we will. But it’d be cool if his killer lived this side of the Copeland Bridge.”
“Why did Doctor Raquel bring a dog?” Fifi wanders to the office door, waiting for hergoonce Diane returns with her children. The woman said she’d be an hour; we’re currently sitting at minute forty-five. “It’s just so…” she frowns. “Random.”
“He’s her seeing-eye dog,” Minka deadpans. “And he doesn’t enjoy being left home alone, evidently.”
“But she’s not blind,” she counters. “Make it make sense.”
“Nothing makes sense anymore,” Aubree gripes. “Raquel needs a seeing dog, even though she’s not blind. Kyle-slash-Roger needs two wives, even though that’s illegal—and seriously, who wants that many spouses, anyway? Isn’t one annoying enough?”
“More than enough,” Minka snickers. “I can hardly give the one I have ample one-on-one time. Imagine having two.”
“I’m right here, Mayet.” I come to a stop beside her and lean against the edge of the desk so my arm touches her arm, and my thighs tease close to hers. “One husband is more than enough for you.”
Then I catch sight of the elevator light stopping on the lobby level.
“You’re up, Fifi,” I announce. “Don’t speak to her about the vic or the case. Give a polite hello, then lead her to Raquel’s lab.”
“Raquel is the only person allowed to collect, touch, store, or test the samples,” Minka inserts firmly. “She’s trained for this, and we need to maintain a chain of evidence. Your job is to merely escort the wife and kids to their destination. If they ask questions, you are to repeat, over and over again, that you aren’t at liberty to discuss the case. Tell her she can ask the lead detectives any questions she may have once she’s done here.”
“Okay.” Fifi stands tall as the glowing numbers above the elevator count up. From the first floor, to the second. The third. Fourth. “I’ve got this. I can be ice queen.”
“Sure you can,” Fletch taunts. “You’re so practiced at it.”
“Shut up.” Her lips firm and her teeth clench, but her expression grows more severe when Fletch only grins. “Mind your own business, Detective Fletcher. And considering you have a young daughter and a needy ex-wife, it seems you have plenty of it.”
“Oop!” Aubree’s hands come up to cover her mouth. “Shots fired.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Lifting her shoulders and tossing back her long, brown hair, Fifi demonstrates her best ice queen persona.
She swings open the glass door, then striding through, she stops by the elevator just as the steel doors open and reveal Diane’s red and splotchy face, and on either side of her, a teenage girl and boy.
Fifteen and thirteen years old, according to the new data we have on Kyle Andrews.
‘Kyle’ is a civil engineer with a degree from MIT. He’s forty-two years old, was married in October of two thousand and five, and after extending his education and earning a master’s degree in civil and structural design, he and Diane sold their house, bought the one they reside in now, and had a couple of kids.
Kyle Andrews has an entire life: education, marriage, children, a 401k, and stock options. His identity isn’t just a passport, like mine. It’s not just a throwaway bank account and an escape route, should the need arise. It’s a whole other world, with a family whose lives will be destroyed when the truth comes out.
Fifi steps into the elevator before the trio can exit, and turning to give them her back, she presses the button for Doctor Raquel’s lab on the seventh floor.
“She’s a mess,” Aubree sighs in sympathy. “Her entire world has been rocked.”
“Sera?” Fletch wonders absently, his eyes still on the elevator, despite the doors that have closed and the steel box that has carried her away. “Yeah. But she’s got balls beneath the dainty female act.” He turns at Minka’s glass door and settles his hands on his hips. “She’s a bit of a mess, but only because emotions frustrate her. She doesn’t like showing weakness.”
I glance to Minka; someone else who loathes weakness and considers feelings a liability.
“Shush, you.” She pushes off her desk, holding her bad arm close to her chest, and circles around to her chair once more. “Okay, Diane’s in the building. Which means we can get Lori on standby to do the same. We’re doing what we can on our end, Detectives. Getting a positive match from our vic’s potential kin will give you a slightly clearer view of what is already a murky case, but beyond that…”
“We still gotta find our perp,” I agree with a nod. “Got it.”
My phone trills in my pocket, loud and vibrating against my leg. So I straighten it out and snag the device, then frowning at the screen for a beat, I turn and meet Minka’s gaze as I swipe to answer. “This is Detective Malone.”
