Page 57 of Little Last Words
“So are you.”
I raised a brow. “I’m not sure you’d say that if you saw me without it.”
“I have … at the women’s retreat several months back.” She glanced at the time. “When do you think Simone will roll in?”
“Let’s hope it’s soon. I have a long list of people I want to talk to today, and I feel like I never get to everyone before something sends me in a different direction.”
“I’d be willing to bet Simone won’t be in for at least ten minutes. Care to wager?”
I shot her a wink. “I do not. I’m sure I’d lose.”
True to form, Simone entered the office twelve minutes later, racing through the door like she was trying to outrun a cop. In her hand was a cup holder with three drinks inside, a peace offering she often brought in when she knew she wasn’t going to be on time.
“Hey, you guys, sorry I’m late,” Simone said. “The line at the coffee shop was ridiculous.”
Hunter and I exchanged glances and started cracking up.
“What’s so funny?” Simone asked.
“You are,” I said. “For starters, your shirt’s on inside out.”
Simone set the tray of drinks on the table and looked down. “Well, geez. Guess I was in so much of a rush this morning that I left the house without even checking myself in the mirror.”
“What kept you?” I asked.
“Your brother. I got out of bed, and he pulled me back in, and we—”
I waved a hand in front of me. “I get the idea. Sorry I asked.”
She pulled the shirt over her head, flipped it around, and slipped it back on again. She pointed at the two guys on the front and looked at me. “Speaking of your brother, I saw Depeche Mode with your brother a couple of months ago. These two men right here? They keep getting better looking with age.”
“I agree,” I said.
“What have I missed?” Simone asked.
“Not much,” I said. “We’ve been chitchatting while we’ve been waiting for you to get here.”
Simone passed the beverages around. A mocha for me, a honey almond milk flat white for Hunter, and a macchiato for herself.
She took a seat in a chair across from us, took a sip of her drink, and said, “I couldn’t believe it when you called last night and told me Angelica shot Dean. It’s straight out of a soap opera. How’s he doing?”
“The surgery went well,” I said. “He’ll live. It’s a good thing he has an alibi for the night of Penelope’s murder. If he didn’t, I bet she’d hire a hit man to finish the job.”
“So, Dean’s out as a suspect,” Hunter said. “Who’s in? Who do we look at next?”
“Friends and neighbors,” I said. “Since Penelope’s return to Cambria, her mother says she’s been catching up with a couple of cheerleading buddies from high school. Jolie and Kate Ramsey. She’s also been in touch with a guy named Zachary Sandler. They dated at one point, and then sometime later, he married Penelope’s other old friend, Vanessa.”
“This just keeps sounding more and more messy,” Simone said.
“I agree,” Hunter said.
“Dean told me Zachary text-messaged Penelope right before she left him, but he doesn’t know what the message said. It’s unclear whether Penelope contacted him first or the other way around.”
Hunter removed a notepad and pen from her pocket and started jotting down information. “Okay, so we have Jolie and Kate Ramsey, friends from high school, and Zachary and Vanessa Sandler, an ex-lover and a friend. What do you want to know about these people?”
“Everything,” I replied. “And I want any dirt you can find on Penelope. Her mother makes her out to be a saint, but someone wasn’t a fan of hers. Dive into Penelope’s past. See if there’s anything there, anything that may have been bubbling under the surface that could have come up again with Penelope’s return to Cambria.”
“Are you going to talk to the Ramsey gals, or shall I?” Simone asked.