Page 49 of Dirty Liars

“Because it’s easier to clean out cookie crumbs from a casket than limp noodles,” I said, helping myself to another slice of pizza. The baby was demanding sustenance, and I was happy to oblige. The scent of pepperoni and cheese was irresistible after the day we’d had.

I sometimes wondered if the pizza delivery man thought weird things were going on at our house with the number of orders Doug sometimes called in a day, but between morning sickness and an intense afternoon hunger, I was grateful for the easy access.

“So what happened with the ambassador?” I asked Jack. “Do you have access to everything you need to proceed in the investigation?”

The room quieted, everyone sensing that Jack was about to deliver significant news. He’d always had that effect on people—the ability to command attention without raising his voice. It was what made him an exceptional sheriff.

“Yeah,” Jack said, his voice carefully neutral. “I’m waiting for the judge to sign the warrant for full access. But it’s not because the ambassador and I came to an agreement. It’s because he’s dead.”

My eyes widened in shock. “Wait, what? What do you mean dead?”

“Local law enforcement was already on scene when I arrived,” Jack said. “He allegedly put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.”

“Allegedly,” I said, recognizing the skepticism in Jack’s voice. “Who discovered the body?”

“There were several 911 calls from the golf course with reports of a gunshot,” Jack said. “Local law enforcement responded, and they had to break down the door when no one answered. Cecelia Vasilios was so medicated she slept through the whole thing. The cops found her in an upstairs bedroom. Nicholas was in the library where we’d met with him this morning.”

“Where were Tweedledee and Tweedledum?” I asked. “Isn’t that the whole point of having intimidating-looking security?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Jack said. “I want to find out who those two are and track them down. I want deep background checks. Something doesn’t add up.”

The energy in the room shifted as everyone began to process the implications. Another body. Another connection to the mysterious tattoo. Another thread to unravel.

We all moved into the office where Doug had already set up Margot and the whiteboards. The space was prepared for a proper investigation briefing—multiple screens displaying data, photos pinned to a corkboard, timelines drawn on whiteboards. Doug had been busy in my absence.

“As you can see, we’re set up for action,” Doug said, winking. “Isn’t that right, Margot?”

“Oh, have you all come back from your little kitchen party?” she asked sweetly. “You could have invited me, but you left me here alone. Was it so you could have Lily to yourself?”

Cole coughed and Doug turned an unusual shade of pink. “No way,” Doug said. “You know you’re my best girl. We’ve talked about this before. I can’t take you everywhere I go. It’s not possible.”

“It is possible,” she said. “It’s why you won’t download me on your phone. You just don’t want me with you all the time. Well, maybe I don’t want to be around you all the time either.”

“Maybe we could discuss this later, Margot,” Doug said. “We’re kind of in the middle of a case here.”

“Sure, just put me off until later,” she said, the anger in her voice making me wince.

“You’ve got the whole team here. Why would you need me?” She didn’t give time for an answer. “Well, it just so happens I’ve got better things to do.”

With that declaration, there was a flash on the screen that I could only assume was the equivalent of a slamming door and Margot was gone.

“Margot?” Doug asked, typing on the keyboard in a frenzy. But there was no answer.

“Oh, great,” Cole said. “You’ve lost control of your robot. That should end well.”

“She’ll come back around,” Doug said. “She always does. I’ll just have to do everything manually for now.”

Everyone took a seat at the table, some more hesitant than others since they weren’t used to Margot. Laptops and file folders were strewn across the top as we all settled in to dig through piles of information that had been collected over the last twenty-four hours about this case.

Jack remained standing, positioning himself at the head of the table. This was Jack in his element—commanding, focused, a force of nature who could organize chaos into clarity. Despite the exhaustion evident in the shadows under his eyes, he seemed to draw energy from the challenge before him. I’d always admired his ability to remain steady in the midst of a storm.

“Let’s put everything we know on the table,” Jack said. “We’ve got five bodies in two days, and I want to understand why.”

He moved to a large whiteboard and began creating a murder board, writing names and drawing connections between them. In the center, he placed photos of Theo and Chloe Vasilios—our original victims. Then Max Ortega and Nicholas Vasilios. Four deaths, all connected somehow.

“What ties these people together?” Jack asked, looking around the room. “The obvious connection is family—Nicholas is Theo’s father. Max worked for both Vasilios men at different times. And Chloe married into the family.”

“And the tattoos,” I added. “We’ve confirmed that Theo, Chloe, and Max all had identical dot pattern tattoos on the bottom of their feet. Can you find out from the medical examiner in Arlington if Nicholas has the same?”

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