Page 44 of Sinful Beauty

The hidden innuendo is my parental connection, and that takes us down a far less useful path.

“Are you protecting someone?”

“Huh? No.” She sets her glass down on the table and shifts her chair forward. “Everyone liked William. He was effective and, by all accounts, a good manager. I get the sense Mr. Peltz isn’t your favorite, but he’s adept at management. He knows far more about what’s going on within his department than you might suspect. And, while William hadn’t been there long, he worked for an entity we owned for years and he’d done great work there.”

“Is that right?”

His HR file hadn’t mentioned his prior work, although we’re quite aware of the connection.

“Mr. Peltz has me take notes sometimes in meeting with HR.”

“With Graeme Shoemaker?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“He has a lot of meetings with Mr. Shoemaker, does he?”

“They’re good friends.” She taps her short trimmed nails on the white tablecloth. “We weren’t surprised to learn that William was cheating on his wife. There were rumors before the incident. But, we were all surprised…that you know. I suppose it’s a lesson to men who cheat.”

“Ah. You mean because his mistress…”

“Took a knife to his eye. Who does that?”

“Right. I can only think of one body part that would be worse.”

She laughs in amusement. Clearly she’s unaware that it was determined to be self-defense. But, then again, the details of the incident never reached the Geneva news. And why would they? William Salo was a nondescript middle manager that came into some trouble over holiday. The local police force shared few details with the media as the investigation is ongoing.

The question I need answered is, does Lucia remember Sloane Watson? And how did she end up answering her sister’s phone call? Our dinner arrives before I can segue into those questions.

She bites into her Cordon bleu de poulet and releases a sensual moan that distracts from the case and brings me right back to what we were doing earlier. And I remember her chosen form of birth control.

“So, the pill? It’s not a common choice here, is it?”

“My mother was Catholic.” She shrugs.

“Wouldn’t that mean no birth control at all?”

“Perhaps.” She cuts a piece of pasta with the side of her fork. “Marriage out of wedlock definitely not on her approved list. But, I don’t know…I guess when I chose a birth control method, I…” Her voice trails, and she sets her fork down. “I moved to stay with my mother’s cousin when I was in primary school. Aline, that’s my mother’s cousin. She encouraged me to choose the pill. Said it would help with cramps and it would make my mother happier. I was so grateful to her, I would have done anything she said.”

“Grateful?”

“She took me in. She didn’t have to.”

“What happened to your mother?”

She inhales, and her lips tighten. “She passed away two years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I moved to Portugal when I was nine years old and never saw my mother again. I always thought…one day.” The sadness in her expression finagles its way into my chest.

“Am I to take it she didn’t send you away to Portugal for the education?” That’s why I’d been sent off to boarding school at the ripe age of thirteen.

“No.” There’s something about her expression that tells me she’s on the brink of sharing more. “Can we not talk about the past?”

“Certainly.”

“Just know that I take the pill diligently every single day.”

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