Page 6 of Sinful Deception

“Give me the damn phone.” I move on fast feet and snatch it away before he can stuff it into his pocket, then I press my free hand to the back of his head and shove him toward the car. Fuck knows, maybe someone is watching the CCTV feed and already writing a report about us.

I check his phone, only for the screen to change again when Jada’s name pops up.

The ringtone is a trigger for the man already tiptoeing perilously close to the edge of sanity. But talking to the woman who so effortlessly hurts him is a trigger for me. So instead of accepting the call, I decline and silence the phone. Then I go into the settings and makeallof her calls silent.

I’m not blocking her. Not interfering in a tangible way. But I am protecting my best friend’s mental space. He’ll get to her when he wants to and not when she’s crying for it. Until she checks herself into rehab and proves she wants a new life, she can sit on the outside of ours and rot.

Cheating, lying bitch.

“Let’s go solve a murder.” I toss the phone back, knowing he won’t let me get in the car without doing so. He wants to be away from her drama, and he’s standing strong in his stance for now. But that stance may change, and when it does, he has to be able to turn words into actions.

It’s the only way he’ll be able to sleep at night.

“Let’s play a game.” I slide into the driver’s seat and slip the key into the ignition. “Male or female?”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Huh?”

“Our killer. Angry dude or scorned female?”

“How the fuck can I know? We haven’t even seen the crime scene yet.”

Chuckling, I back us out of the parking spot before putting the car into gear and angling toward the exit. “I know. That’s why it’s called a game. Ya know, for fun. Male killer or female?”

“You’re gonna lose your job.” He settles back into his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s literally no way to know.”

“I think it was a pack of females.” I pull out of the garage and into a gap in traffic. “They were enjoying a bachelorette party on a cruise until the maid of honor decided to voice her feelings. She’s in love with the?—”

“Groom?” He rolls his eyes. “Unoriginal and predictable motive.”

“Her feelings for the bride!” I make thehasound just to irritate him. “They’ve been best friends since third grade. Did everything together. Basic Becky Number One has always wanted Bride Barbie, but Bride Barbie got engaged to a dude. Basic Becky was jealous, but she was too shy to speak up. Until the booze cruise. Once they got on the ship and the alcohol flowed, it was all over. Becky and Barbie had words.”

“And Becky threw Barbie not only off the ship that literally doesn’t even dock in our bay, but she threw her a dozen city blocks, too? That’s some Hulk-level rage, Malone.”

“See! You’re playing along. But you’re wrong. Bride Barbie isn’t dead. Basic Becky killed the second bridesmaid because that bridesmaid uncovered a plot to kill Ken. Bridesmaid was gonna snitch to Barbie, so Becky offed her. She waited till they were off the ship and having coffee at a trendy little cafedowntown before she stabbed her with a Louboutin. Now that bridesmaid is out of the way, Ken is none the wiser, and Bride Barbie will soon be single. It’s the perfect plan.”

“Right.” He shakes his head. But at least he’s smiling again. “So the snitchy bridesmaid uncovered this murder plot but kept it to herself and agreed to coffee with the would-be killer? Sounds a little naïve, no?”

“It’s Monday,” I shrug, “and pre-coffee. Minka does the craziest shit on Mondays before coffee.”

MINKA

“Doctor Kirk.” I point my steel ruler his way, like a teacher who… points steel rulers, I guess. I don’t know. “You’re starting rounds today. Go.”

“Uh…” The poor, sweet, too-shy kid swallows his tongue and blushes furiously as he looks from a smirking Aubree on his left to an equally smug Raquel on his right. He’s surrounded by arrogant estrogen, and neither of his colleagues are inclined to save him from himself. “Chief…” He gulps so the action becomes audible. “I’m currently working a homicide with a detective from Midtown. Female, mid-thirties, died of acute myocardial infarction.”

Curious, I raise a single brow and hold the poor guy prisoner. “She had a heart attack… but it’s homicide? You sure you don’t have your cases—andcollege education,” I add for emphasis, “mixed up?”

Like we’re all in grade school, Aubree lowers her head and snorts at the boy’s expense. “Burn.”

“It-it appears as though the woman was placed in a high-stress situation,” he stammers. “She was led to her heart attack.”

“A high-stress situation?”Good one, Chief. Keep repeating what he says.You sound intelligent. “I find it doubtful that a detective, or even a skilled attorney, could prove homicide in this case.”

“He dropped her into the ape enclosure at the zoo,” he counters. More confident now. “Husband considered it a joke.”

“A cruel one at that.” Aubree’s taunting mood flips to fire in an instant. “What the hell was he thinking?”

“History of abuse. He put her in the enclosure and locked her in, which obviously ended with the resident ape going nuts. Years of emotional and physical abuse led to an autoimmune systems crash and, ultimately, to a weak heart, which concluded with a heart attack. The ape pounded on her so badly she would have died from injuries anyway, but I’m seeing signs of MI that predate their visit to the zoo. So now the detective wants me to nail down the timeline and get the guy.”

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