Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

Rick, I was really beginning to realize, was kind of a jerk. And a terrible boyfriend.

I pulled on the lapel of Linc's suit coat with one hand. "You clean up nice yourself."

He'd look good in a burlap sack, but the smoky-gray shirt really did do amazing things to his eyes. And with the added inches from my heels, I could appreciate them at a closer distance.

We stood like that for a minute before I became self-conscious about drool dripping down my chin. My hand, still clasped firmly in Linc's, suddenly felt clammy. I went to pull it away, but he held on tighter and took a breath as if to say something.

"Colleen is meeting us there," I blurted, cutting off whatever he was about to say. I couldn't explain why I didn't want to hear it, but something in the way he looked at me made my stomach flip-flop.

He smiled. "Okay. We'd better get a move on before fashionably late turns into a grand entrance." He tugged me to the truck.

Colleen waited for us by her parked VW in front of the Vandenburgs' house. The driveway and surrounding curbs were already full of cars and trucks. Safety in numbers? This actually helped assuage my growing anxiety about being here: the more crowded the house, the more I could blend in. Disappear. Go unnoticed.

I hoped.

"You look amazing! Much too nice to be at a Hill house. Linc, turn right around and take her on a proper date," Colleen said when we met her by her car.

"Would you?" I asked, suddenly hopeful for an excuse to not go in.

"Oh no, scaredy-cat. Our first date is not going to be an 'instead of,'" he said. I felt my stomach flip-flop again. He said it like he anticipated there would be a first date at some point in our future. But I was probably projecting again.

"What's our plan?" Colleen asked, back in spy mode.

"Divide and conquer?" Linc suggested. When he caught sight of my big, anxious eyes, he chuckled. "Or not."

"We'll play it by ear. I prefer to stand back and observe. Maybe lob a conversation starter and see where it takes us," I suggested. "Maybe I should run back to the truck and grab my camera. I could pretend to be photographing the event."

I made to turn, but Linc gripped my elbow firmly. "No running. Besides, photographing a memorial for a dead person is kinda macabre, don't you think?"

I shrugged. I really wanted to hide behind my camera instead of facing the gossip-hungry crowd.

"Do we go for the main players first? Or stick to the edges? See what the scuttlebutt is?" Colleen asked as we made our way slowly toward the entrance.

"I say main players," Linc said at the same time I muttered, "Periphery players."

Colleen agreed with Linc. I scowled at her. I'd only get her milkshakes half the time.

"Well, I still think Mike could have done it. He and Crystal could have slipped out with the neighbor noticing. Or Kelly. Or maybe one of them hired someone to do it," Colleen suggested.

"You think there are hitmen wandering around Piney Ridge?" I asked.

Colleen shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

I caught a hint of sadness underneath her excitement and hope. It would be easier for the residents of Piney Ridge if the murderer was an outsider. Reason number one why I couldn't really fault them for easily believing it was me. I'd been gone—to the big city and beyond—for so long, I'd slipped out of their fold.

I tensed as we reached the door. I concentrated on Linc's warm hand on my arm, grounding me. I was innocent. I hoped I'd prove it soon. Then all the accusatory, judgmental people of Piney Ridge would move on to the next bit of juicy gossip and leave me alone.

"We'll start with Mike," Linc said. "It'll be easy because we need to give our condolences. He's low on the list because of Crystal's alibi anyway."

I let out a breath. My hand started trembling so much, I almost dropped my clutch. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one accused of killing his wife."

"I'm sure no one believes you did it," Linc assured me even as several pairs of eyes drifted our way.

"Darnit," I said, reaching for an excuse to leave. "I forgot my cardigan in the truck. I'm gonna run back really quick."

Linc gripped my arm tighter. "No, you don't. We're right here."

Colleen sized me up. "You do look really pale, Alex. Why don't you go to the bathroom, and we'll talk to Mike. I'll come get you when we finish."

I could have kissed her. Colleen won herself back the full promise of milkshakes.

"Thank you," I mouthed silently, detached myself from Linc, and hightailed it away from them before Linc could object again.

I wandered down a hallway but didn't see any rooms that resembled a bathroom. It was probably in the foyer that I just vacated. As I doubled back, I noticed a door partly open that wasn't so on my way past originally. Perhaps this was a bathroom that someone just vacated?

I pushed open the door to reveal a study instead. The furniture and décor screamed masculinity—dark wood, dark leather, sports memorabilia. This must be Mike's home office. I chanced a quick glance down the hallway. All clear. Before I could overthink it, I ducked inside and shut the door quietly behind me. Mike was hopefully engaged with his guests, so I could snoop a little.

I didn't really know what to look for—a receipt for a hitman? Did hitmen write receipts? Was that something you could write off on your taxes? I chuckled at myself. Clearly lack of sleep made me loopy.

I rifled through the papers on his desk, wishing I knew anything about invoices and accounts payable. Maybe Missy was killed