Page 74 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

Nodding, Diane held up one finger, then paused at the bar long enough to order a glass of wine before carrying it to their booth. “I suppose you want me to give you the definitive clue to crack the Bandeaux case,” she said, scooting in next to Morrisette.

“That would help.” Reed finished his beer.

&nb

sp; “Have you talked to His Highness?”

“St. Clair?”

“That would be him.” Diane took a sip of her wine and scowled. “Just a minute. They poured me vinegar here, and I’m not in the mood.” She walked to the bar, had a heated conversation with the bartender, and returned with another glass of merlot. “Much better,” she said after taking an experimental sip and sliding into the booth next to Morrisette.

“You guys find anything new in the evidence collected at the Bandeaux scene?” Reed asked.

“Just got all the results of the chemicals in his body. I faxed it over to you. There was alcohol, GHB, traces of Ecstacy and get this . . . traces of epinephrin, as if he managed to get to his allergy kit and inject himself.”

“Before he or someone slit his wrists.”

“Yep.”

“So it appears that Josh got high with Ecstasy and maybe had some wine with a friend, but the wine was the wrong kind, the kind that put him into shock. Someone definitely switched the labels. But he used the allergy kit, gave himself a shot of epinephrin, and, just when he thinks he’s home free and not gonna die, he types up a suicide note on the computer, then slits his wrists.”

“Or the friend does just to throw us off.”

“After having watched Bandeaux save himself.” Reed’s eyes narrowed. “You know, it’s almost as if someone tried to kill him twice. Once with the wine, but he somehow figured it out and gave himself the antidote, but then the killer struck again and this time finished the job.”

Reed pushed his plate away as the waitress brought the second round of drinks. “Anything else? What about the lipstick on one of the glasses?”

“It’s called In The Pink by New Faces. Ironic, don’t you think, considering Bandeaux’s condition?” Diane asked, her eyes gleaming a bit. “It’s sold at all your major upscale department stores. The good news is that it’s a relatively new shade, only been available for the past two years.”

Reed glanced at Morrisette.

“I’m already all over it,” she said, then took a big swallow from her glass. “We’ll check all the local markets and the Internet.”

Diane Moses said, “You already know about the other blood there, and we found some other hairs in the vacuum bag. Hair that we’re comparing to Bandeaux and Naomi Crisman along with some kind of animal hair. Looks like dog. We’re still checking.”

“Bandeaux and his girlfriend didn’t have any pets,” Reed said, sipping his beer.

“The ex-wife does.” Morrisette finished her second drink. “Maybe she’d been playing with the pooch and he’d shed on her and before she could grab one of those sticky rollers they have to clean your clothes and upholstery from pet hair, she visited Josh and dropped the hairs on his carpet.”

“Or it could be that they had the dog together when they were married and she took the mutt over to visit. The neighbor seems to think she was over there a lot.” Reed swiped a napkin over his lips. “Or maybe it’s another dog. Either way I think it’s time to get a search warrant, see if the missus has any weapons around.” He didn’t think they’d have trouble getting the warrant. Caitlyn’s blood type had been found at the scene, a car like hers had been spotted at Bandeaux’s place that night, she was going through a messy divorce with the deceased and things had gone from bad to worse with Bandeaux’s threat of an unlawful death lawsuit over the kid’s demise. Caitlyn Bandeaux also had a history of mental problems, as both Morrisette and Naomi Crisman had mentioned. Reed wasn’t certain the dog hair meant anything, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that Caitlyn Bandeaux was smack-dab in the middle of it. He just had to figure out how.

It had been a long week.

But it was nearly over.

Thank God.

Amanda stepped on the throttle of her little convertible and the TR-6 sprang forward, buzzing along the highway, past the marshes where snowy white egrets were visible in the long grass and gators hid in the murky water. The wind tore at her hair, and she felt some of the tension from the office and the mess with Josh Bandeaux ease from her shoulders.

Shifting, she passed a guy in a BMW, left the guy standing still and it gave her a rush. She glanced in the rearview mirror and grinned at herself. Ian would be home tonight and she might just cook. Something with lobster, his favorite. And crusty French bread. And wine.

It would be good to see him, she thought as she spied the sign for her exit. Her marriage was far from perfect. Ian could be as big a jerk as any man, but then she wasn’t exactly a piece of cake to live with either. For today, she’d forgive him his faults.

She roared off the exit and braked for the turn.

Nothing happened.

She sucked in her breath. Adrenalin pumped through her blood. She hit the brakes again, the corner rushing at her ever faster. “Shit!” She shifted down, stood on the useless brakes and swerved, her tires hitting gravel. Hard. The car tried to spin out. She fought the wheel and blew through the stop to squeal around the corner, swinging wide into the oncoming lane. Her heart was pounding like crazy, but fortunately no one was speeding toward her, no head-on collision imminent. “God help me.” With all her strength she pulled hard on the emergency brake, then shifted into a lower gear. The little car flew off the shoulder, bounced down a slight slope and headed straight for the small sapling she passed each day on her way to work. Amanda braced herself. Here it comes, she thought wildly, holding fast to the steering wheel, bracing herself for the collision. It was the only tree near the highway. And it was small. Surely she’d survive. If only she didn’t hit it squarely.

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