Page 32 of Sinful Sorrow

It was all on her shoulders. Which is hardly a life someone might consider enviable. So that motive—jealousy—doesn’t quite stick out for me as plausible. It’s not like someone killed her for money: there was none to be had at the event of her death. She wasn’t killed for gain: there was nothing to gain.

She was a poor girl from a poor family who worked hard and got by. And despite the added complications of bringing a baby into the world, she was intent on continuing her education anyway, and demanding a better future for her and her child.

What the fuck is our motive here?

Frustrated, I step off the curb a block from the George Stanley, then up again after I cross the street. Cars move in my peripherals. Busses, as they go about their commute. Office workers buzz around, like bees in a busy hive. And first responders—cops, paramedics, nurses, and more—head to work, or away. Into the bar conveniently nearby, or away from the city, so they can go home.

Dropping my head, I hunch away from the wind whipping through the tall buildings and cut right when I reach the revolving doors of the George Stanley. I don’t call ahead and give Minka notice that I’m coming for her. I don’t give her a chance to think up an excuse for working herself into the ground.

I simply hop on the next available elevator, only to find Seraphina waiting inside. Her expression jumps with surprise when I turn to face the front and don’t bother hitting the number nine.

She’s already done it.

“Detective Malone.” She glances through the doors, expectation and then acceptance when they close. “You’re without your trusty sidekick today.”

I smile, subtle and hidden, as I keep my eyes on the floor. “He got called out for a personal thing a few hours ago.”

“Oh, yeah?” She wants so badly not to care. And more so, not to be obvious about it. She likes him, but she’d rather burn in hell than admit it. “Personal… is Mia okay?”

“I haven’t heard anything to indicate she’s not.” I glimpse over my shoulder and meet Fifi’s willow green eyes. “He’d have told me if she was sick or hurt. So whatever it is…”

Is probably about Jada, I admit grudgingly. “I’m gonna call him in a minute to check in, since it’s the end of the day and he clocked out early without really communicating what was up.”

“He’s entitled to personal time.” She stands taller. Straighter. Haughty, since that’s her defense mechanism when she’s vulnerable. “People take personal time.”

“Professionally?” I step forward when the doors open and reveal a bustling morgue. I know she’ll follow, so I don’t bother looking back. “Of course he can take time. But personally, he’s my best friend. So he’s gonna tell me what’s going on, or risk my wrath when I catch up with him. Feel free to hang around.” I spot Minka in her office, busily typing something at her computer. Then I glance back at Fifi and find her just a step behind me. “You’re his friend, too. Professionalism aside, as his friends, we deserve to know, so we can be there to help if he needs it.”

“Do you think it’s something serious?” She quickens her steps and blows right past Aubree as I push through Minka’s door. “Detective Malone? Do you think?—”

“I think I’m gonna find out.” I smile as Minka looks up, then I take out my phone and find my best friend’s name, second down in my call log. Hitting dial, I set the call on speaker and place the device on my wife’s desk. “If he ignores me, he’ll regret it.”

“Still haven’t heard from Fletch?” Sitting back in her chair, Minka’s brows furrow. “Nothing?”

“A couple of texts for proof of life. Nothing informative though.”

“Arch?” Fletch answers on the third or fourth ring, city traffic bleating in the background, proving he’s outside and not at home. Or in a hospital or morgue, somewhere else in the city. “Hey. I was just about to call you.”

“Uh huh.” I plop down into the visitor’s chair while Fifi heads to the leather sofa. And of course, Aubree tiptoes through the door to join us. “You’re on speaker, Fletch. And I’m with Mayet. Where are you?” Then I glance at Fifi and take pity on her. “And where’s Mia?”

“She’s with me. Say hi Uncle Arch.”

“Hi Uncle Arch!” Mia chirps happily. “We got soup and hotdogs on sticks!”

Satisfied the little girl is fine, Fifi sits back and exhales what was surely an anxious belly full of air.

“Is anyone else there with you, Arch? Or is it just you and Mayet?”

“Uh…” I could lie, I suppose. Break my best friend’s right to privacy. But that’s not who we are. And he’s holding a massive fucking secret for me. So I answer truthfully. “Me, Mayet, Fifi, and Aubs.”

Silence hangs for a beat. The honk of a car’s horn sounds on Fletch’s end of the call. Then a little girl skipping, punctuated by the sound of a plastic bag whipping in the wind.

“Can you take me off speaker? Please?”

Minka’s eyes are the first I see. Shuttering and disappointed. Then I peek back at the other two, though theirs aren’t quite as important to me.

Picking up the phone and tapping the icon on my screen, I bring the device to my ear. “Done. What’s wrong?”

“Moo? You wanna play in the park for a sec?” A plastic bag exchanges hands, then the whoop of a little girl’s excitement carries in the wind quickly blowing a storm our way.

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