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Andi nodded and redirected her attention to Sarah. “What time did you arrive?”
“At half past eleven.”
“So a half hour before it ended?” Andi said.
“Yes, dear.” Sarah lifted a biscochito to her mouth painted rose with lipstick and took a delicate bite, then swallowed and wiped her mouth with one of the navy cocktail napkins she’d brought on the gold serving tray. “Let me guess, dear. You were assuming I arrived at the start and left early?”
Andi’s lashes fluttered again. “I...”
“Oh, no harm, dear.” Sarah smiled. “It’s only natural to assume a woman of my maturity would be home early and off to bed, but I think the end of the party is when the real party begins.” She lifted her hand to her chest. “Oh, I don’t participate.” She laughed. “The look on your face...”
Andi’s cheeks flushed pink.
“I don’t go in for all that carrying on, but at that late hour of agala—or let’s just call it what it was at that hour, a party—that’s when you see who’s really who.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Andi said. “But it does make sense.”
“It’s like having the best seats to a show. It’s how I know so much.” She winked at Christian.
He mushed his lips together to hide a smile. Sarah Basinger was such a character.
“And did you see anything noteworthy?” Andi asked.
“Now you’re asking the right questions, dear,” Sarah said, sitting back and crossing her legs. Her bright floral yoga pants against the geometric upholstery made for one funky pattern. Sarah had been a renowned painter before rheumatoid arthritis had stolen her delicate painting skills, but she’d taken to bigger projects like the front door or the mural on the back of her house. She had the best attitude—one he greatly admired.
“I don’t know if it’s noteworthy in the truest sense of the term, but...” Sarah leaned forward as if about to impart a secret just between her and Andi. “I did see a woman I didn’t recognize get out of a black sedan. Well, it was dark ... so a dark sedan.”
Right about the time their mystery woman showed up on camera.
“Did she have long, dark hair?” Andi asked, leaning forward too.
“No ... and then yes.” Sarah smiled.
Christian blinked.
“I don’t follow,” Andi said.
“I saw a woman with spiky blonde hair step out of the passenger seat of the car. Then whoever was driving yelled at her and threw a wig out the window. She put it on. A long, dark one.”
Andi looked at him, her eyes alight. If he didn’t know better, he’d say with mischief. “Our mystery woman.”
“Were you able to see her face?” Andi asked, excitement bubbling in her voice.
Christian held his breath until Sarah answered. This could be the break they needed.
“Oh my. Yes. But I didn’t expect such excitement over it.”
“Thus far, you’re the only one to remember seeing her face,” Andi explained.
“Well, I suppose I was the only sober one at that hour. Most were walking around in a haze or laughing stupor,” she said.
“Could we take you to the station to work with the sketch artist?”
“No,” Sarah said.
“No?” Christian frowned.
“Oh, I’ll go and do it, but there’s no need for you two to take me. You have plenty on your hands, and I’m sure more people to interview. I can see myself down the handful of blocks just fine.”
