Camille cut the cake and brought a slice for each of them back to the table.
“Mmm, looks delicious,” Isabel said with a grin as Camille set the dessert plates down on the table and took her seat.
“Any new events you’re planning, Camille?” Emily inquired, cutting into her cake.
“Why, yes, there is,” she replied, fluffing her short, spiky red hair as she sat back in her chair. “I’m planning, as well as catering I might add, an important event next weekend at the Hilton Hotel for the Zigon Corporation.”
“Sounds like a sizeable job.” Emily refilled her glass with the pitcher of iced tea on the table. “Aren’t they that huge computer chip maker south of Boise?”
“They are, and it is a big job. As a matter of fact…” Camille drew out the words as she flashed a sheepish grin at Emily and then at Isabel. “I’m having a hard time finding enough servers for the event. I was wondering if you might be able to help me out that night.”
“Now I know you’re not talking to me,” Isabel said, dipping her chin as she raised her eyebrows at Camille, flipping her long, dark waves over her shoulder.
“Emily?” Camille turned to her and pleaded, batting blue doe-eyes. “I’ve already wrangled Molly into helping me, but I’m still short handed.”
“What day next weekend?” Emily pulled out her phone to check her schedule.
“Saturday. I’d need you from late afternoon until the end of the evening. Please say yes.”
“Looks like I’m free.”
Camille leaned over and patted Emily’s forearm. “I’ll owe you, Em.”
“Big time, I’d say,” Isabel added.
“I’m happy to do it. With Colin gone, my Saturday nights will be pretty much free again. It’ll give me something to do.”
“No investigations waiting for you?” Isabel put another forkful of luscious cake in her mouth.
“After winding up the Lucas Wakefield case, I’ve only had a few small cases, but I’m sure more work will come. It always does.” Emily smiled weakly then took a drink of her tea. She hoped more work would come. At least the break in cases gave her time to dig deeper into Evan’s murder.
Once dessert was finished and conversation exhausted, Camille said it was time for her to head home. “Don’t forget brunch on Saturday—eleven o’clock.” She packed up her belongings, hugged Emily and Isabel, and went home.
Isabel lingered behind, as Emily had asked her to, and helped clear the dinner table and load the dishwasher. “Now that we’re alone, what did you want to talk to me about?”
Emily poured dishwasher detergent in the cup in the door, snapped the lid shut, and started the machine. She decided there was no point in beating around the bush, so she faced Isabel and dove right in. “Did you know Evan when he worked in Washington, DC?”
Isabel dried her hands on the kitchen towel, seemingly unruffled by the question. But then again, that was Isabel, level-headed and unflappable. “That question seemed to come out of nowhere, Em. Why do you ask?”
She wondered why Isabel didn’t just reply yes or no. It was a simple question. Was she trying to evade the question or find out why Emily wanted to know before answering?
Emily leaned a hip against the counter and crossed her arms, staring directly at her. She could answer her, but she didn’t want to show her hand too early. “Just answer the question, Is.”
Isabel’s eyebrows furrowed a bit and her dark eyes locked on Emily’s. She crossed her arms, too, in a defensive manner. “What’s with this change in attitude? One minute we’re the best of friends, the next you’re the interrogator. What gives?”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t know what this is about, but—”
“Answer the question—Izzy.” Emily used the nickname to see what response she’d get from Isabel. No one in their group called her that, except Evan.
Isabel’s intense stare softened at the name. She dropped her arms and took a step back, her eyes widening a bit, as if she realized Emily had discovered something.
“Did you know my husband in DC?” Emily’s voice rose with irritation.
Isabel’s eyes lowered momentarily. “Yes.”
“So you were in on the whole chain of lies?” Emily’s eyes moistened and her voice cracked as she snapped her accusation at Isabel.
“You don’t understand. I—”
Isabel stepped toward Emily, reaching out to touch her arm.
Emily shook it off. “I understand you have lied to me for the last five-plus years!” She turned away, a couple of tears escaping, and she stepped to the table. She pulled a chair out and dropped