Page 59 of Sinful Fantasy

“I’m right here, Chief Mayet.” Fletch purses his lips as I bring the car to a stop and push the stick into drive. “Kinda still catches my bad mood sometimes to hear you talk about ‘everything,everything’, ya know? I’m still adapting.”

“It is what it is, Detective. And it’s always for a good cause. I’ll see you both soon?”

“Yeah. We’re ten minutes out. Keep Roberta on ice and wait for us? We can’t screw this up now. Bower already wants us on our asses.”

“Of course. Speaking of,” she murmurs. “I spoke to the mayor today. He’s reinstating your detective ranks.”

“Yeah, the captain told us. Sort of.”

“Means I get an extra three dollars a week added back to my salary,” Fletch drawls. “Woohoo. I’m ballin’ this month. Gonna take my baby out for ice cream.”

“Matchesmythree dollars a week pay raise,” Minka snorts. “Guess the city has money to burn this year.”

“Only three dollars?” I ask her. “I know you’re taking a pittance for a salary, Mayet. Budget couldn’t stretch a little further to make things easier for you?”

“Lawrence wanted me to take amassivechunk,” she retorts indignantly. “Threatened me, actually.”

“What the fuck do you mean he threatened you?”

“Something about letting him care about me,or else. So…” she snickers. “I took the money he wanted me to, but I spread it across my whole team and bumped us all up. You’ll be here in eight minutes?”

“Yep.” I pull away from the airport and onto the main road that leads back into the city. “I’ll see you in a bit, Minka. Your arm had better still be in that sling.”

“Putting it back on now,” she quips with an audible smile. “Drive safe.”

MINKA

“My name is Detective Archer Malone.”

I watch on as Arch and Fletcher lead Roberta into my office, their make-do war room whenever they’re inside this building and not their own, and try to picture a world where these detectives were allowed to use this space while the chief before me was still in power.

It’s not a world I can imagine. The smartass and the charmer, taking over the rigid and most-of-the-way crooked Doctor Chant’s private sanctuary.

In fact, I doubt Archer had even stepped foot in here before I slept with him.

“And my partner,” Archer continues, gesturing, “Detective Charlie Fletcher. We’re the primary investigators on the case you think may include your husband.”

“May?” Her words are harsher than those of the women who came before her. There’s more steel in her spine. “What do you meanmay? My husband is dead, and his face was on the news. What more do you need?”

“Mrs. McArthur.” Fletch comes to stop by the leather couch lining my wall, guiding Roberta to take a seat, then perches on the coffee table across from it. While Roberta lowers down, he clasps his hands together and studies her eyes.

Wet with emotion. Puffy from lack of sleep, maybe.

Or fear.

“We have a man inside this building,” he starts, much like I’ve heard more than once over the course of this investigation. “He matches the description you give of Benedict McArthur. Weight, height, hair. In most other cases, we could consider that enough. But this case is more complicated than that—”

“Complicated how?” she bites out. “What’s the problem?”

You’re one of four women all claiming to be his one and only.

Though of course, I sit behind my desk and shut my mouth.

“The man whose death we’re investigating… is difficult to identify.” Fletch tries, oh so carefully, to edge toward the truth without giving too much away. “Can you share any information with us? Something unusual about him that most others wouldn’t know?”

“Like…” She draws a heaving breath and releases it again on a shudder. “Like how he always puts honey in his coffee?”

It’s a good thing no one is looking at me, because the way my lips wrinkle in disgust would for sure get me in trouble.

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