Page 19 of Deadly Sins: Lust

“It’s possible, but no. It doesn’t feel right to me. Layla was bragging about what happened. If she worried about her fiancé finding out, she would have kept quiet. She probably thought she was safe telling her closest friends until Marissa flipped out.”

My mind circled back to Leo’s comment about Layla accusing Marissa of keeping secrets from Nick. When I’d first met Marissa, her love for Nick was obvious. They seemed close, and yet her friends knew something about her that he didn’t. I needed to know what she had been hiding.

I parked in Marissa’s driveway, and a black car pulled to the side of me. A man wearing a dark suit and a red pinstriped tie headed our direction. He was clean and polished and well preserved for his age, despite the fact his hair was peppered with gray. He looked in my eyes and smiled, and I thought of George Clooney. But he had a harder edge like a warning label suggesting he wasn’t a man to be trifled with.

“You must be Nick’s friends,” he said.

“And you’re James Ashby,” I said.

He nodded. “I hear the three of you have been causing trouble.”

“If trouble is the way you define looking into Marissa’s death, then yes.”

“She drowned. It’s unfortunate, but true.”

There was no mincing of words with this guy. He cut straight to it. I respected that in a person.

“You don’t know that for sure,” I said. “No one does. Not yet.”

“As a private detective, I understand your need to make this more than it is.” He turned to Maddie. “And you, you’re a medical examiner, right? Unlike your country, murders don’t take place here every day. It’s not common. Especially in North Queensland.”

“I’m not interested in statistics,” I said. “I’m interested in answers.”

The passenger-side door of James’s car opened. I expected Layla to step out, but it wasn’t her. It was a girl, no older than eighteen, I guessed. She had long, straight, honey-brown hair, eyes shaped like almonds, and an unusually flat face. She adjusted her glasses, looked at me with a big, wide smile, and said, “I’m Grace. What’s your name?”

“Sloane,” I said. “I like your dress.”

She twirled around like the belle of the ball, showcasing the pastel blue, floor-length, scoop neck dress made of chiffon. “Uncle James bought it for me. Today’s my birthday. You’re pretty.”

“Thank you.”

She turned to Maddie. “You’re pretty too.”

Maddie threw her arms around her. “And you’re beautiful.”

“I know,” Grace said.

James put a hand on Grace’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go inside and look at the birthday cake Layla bought you?”

Grace skipped across the grass and went into the house.

I looked at James. “Is she—”

“Down syndrome? Yes. She’s the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet.”

“I can tell.”

The front door opened, and a barefooted Layla walked toward us, her finger in the air, wagging. “Oh no. Get back in your car and leave. You’re not allowed on my property.”

James grabbed her hand and kissed it. “We’re just talking, darlin’. There’s no need to get upset.”

“No need?” Layla said. “Even after what happened earlier today?”

“Layla ...”

“Okay, fine,” she hissed. “But I want them to leave.”

“And they will,” he said. “You help Grace, and let me handle it.”