Page 34 of Sinful Deception

“Me?” She moves out of a building and onto the sidewalk, punctuated by the sound of humming traffic moving by. “I’m fine, why?”

“Too little sleep,” I bring my hand up as though to tick the answer off with my finger. “Late medication. Death of a person close to someone we love. Minor breakdown of that someone we love after said death. Informing a four-year-old her mother was never coming home. An anniversary we don’t talk about.” I drop my hand again and start toward the house. “Take your pick, Minnnka. Any of them are reasons for me to worry about you.”

“January eleventh is gonna come year after year, Archer. Reminding me thirty-seven times in a twenty-four-hour period is hardly useful, and though what happened to Jada is tragic, and helping Mia and Fletch is our priority, someday, when things don’t hurt quite so much, I think they’ll realize they’re healing. She was a scab on their knees, constantly tearing herself open. But that scab will go now, and, in its place, fresh new skin will grow. I won’t say so to anyone else out loud, obviously, but Jada’s passing will finally allow Fletch and Mia a fresh start.”

“Yeah.” I head through the front door and turn right into the living room, bursting with CSIs sprinkling fingerprint dust onto every flat surface available. “Your instincts are right: don’t say that out loud to anyone else. Fletch is still floating in theholy shit, did that really happen?stage of grief. But that’ll turn to anger soon, right?”

She slips into a car, the slam of a door locking out the noise of nearby motors. “The literature indicates anger comes next.” So formal. So uncomfortable. “And then bargaining. I expect his anger to be loud and painful.”

“And probably dangerous. If Booth isn’t locked up before Fletch hits that state, shit’s gonna get messy.”

“Have you heard from the detectives today? This is no longer an assault case, Archer. It’s homicide.”

“No, I haven’t heard anything.” But I exhale and look around at everything that still needs to be done. And yet, none of it is for me. Not really. I’m the guy who arrests our perp, and I commission the guys trained to come out and lift evidence for court. So I turn again and head back through the front door. “I don’t expect to hear from them, except on the off chance they call Fletch and I’m with him. Seems Sophia shut them down yesterday when they wanted to cast doubt over him, so even with this moving from assault to homicide, it’s not likely they’ll share their thoughts until the case is tied up.”

“The case should be an easy solve,” she growls. “If Sophia’s involved, then she’s handed them enough proof to finish it out.”

“Yeah, well…” I stop on the edge of the Masters’ porch and look out at the cop cars littering the street. The forensic vans. The men and women in bio-suits so they don’t incidentally leave their own DNA on a crime scene. Then, I cast my gaze further and find just one media van. Since a housewife dying in suburbia just isn’t a juicy enough story for the likes of Miranda London and her viperous need for gossip. “I don’t expect to be invited into the investigation, and if they’re good detectives, they won’t offer information to Fletch until an arrest has been made and the evidence has been tendered. I can dislike being shut out while also acknowledging it’s standard operating procedure. They risk the entire case if they blab too early. Are you stopping at home before heading to Fletch’s?”

“Nah. I don’t need anything from ours, and there’s no point being there while our friend could do with the company. Mia’s not in school today, and my office has been briefed in my absence. Aubree’s already at Fletch’s—she said she’d organize lunch. My afternoon will be spent sitting with my friend, even if it’s done in silence.”

“Your favorite kind of social gathering,” I tease. I slide my free hand into my pocket and prepare to head back to thestation. Formally arrest Masters, send him through booking, and then have Lieutenant Fabian sign off on the files so I can pack it all away. “I’ll talk to Fabian and Bower about what’s happening with Fletch. That way, they can approve his leave, and I can make sure he’s still getting paid. He’s not gonna be thinking about these things right now, but I know he’s still got bills to pay and a daughter to feed, so I’ll take care of that.”

“Does the police force have some kind of bereavement pay for people in Fletch’s situation? A few extra dollars tossed their way, considering the next little while will be particularly expensive.”

“Dunno. But Felix is taking care of the financials for Jada’s funeral, and I’ll be sending a little bereavement money across to help Fletch stay square. You don’t mind, do you?”

Oblivious, she wonders, “Don’t mind what?”

“That I send him money?”

“Why would I mind?”

I chuckle. “Because it’sourmoney, Minnnka. If I’m giving away anything with more than a few zeros on the end, then I consider it common courtesy to discuss such things with the wife.”

“It’s your money!” she blusters. “Jesus. Give it all to him. I don’t care.”

“I mean… I care,” I tease. “A little bit. I’ve grown accustomed to a certain way of life, Doctor Mayet. I wasn’t built for poverty.”

“You have such princess energy,” she laughs. “God forbid you become regular comfortable, instead of mafia comfortable. Send him whatever you think is appropriate. But be prepared for when he smacks you in the face and calls you a pandering asshole for daring to give him charity. He’s a proud man, which is ironic, considering I called Fifi proud just a few minutes ago, too. They’re either perfect for each other or destined for a massive explosion. I can’t tell which way it’s gonna go just yet.”

“We’ll sit back and watch the fireworks.”

“Detective Malone?”

I turn at the top of the stairs to find a crime scene tech’s eyes burning into mine.

“A second, if you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, sure. Hang on. Minka?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly. Sweetly. “I’m here. But you’ve gotta go.”

“I do. I’ll finish this out and deal with what I need to do at the station, then I’ll swing by Fletch’s place and come find you.”

“How long?”

“Uh…” I glance down at my watch and count ahead. One. Two. “Maybe three hours, tops. Booking Masters will take a bit, and talking to my lieutenant isn’t likely to be fast.”

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