much, she went to Mark’s dressing room, slowly turned the knob, even more slowly turned on the light and stepped inside.
The elegant black bottle sat on the dressing table.
Oh, God.
Chapter 8
Saturday was the longest day of Stephen’s life, or so it seemed. Time, thankfully, had taken the edges off some of the other longest days. Everything seemed easier in retrospect.
But he wasn’t interested in retrospect. He just wanted this evening—at least, this part of it—to be over so he could say good-night to Kiki, go home, change clothes and see Macy. Kiki wouldn’t even mind if she knew what was going through his head. So far, she’d spent the entire time doing some sort of weird stalking dance around Ty Gadney, one of her fellow detectives. From what Stephen could tell, she and Gadney had dated for a while, breaking up, getting back together and breaking up again. Apparently, the last breakup had been final, at least in Gadney’s mind. Not so in Kiki’s.
Stephen was pretty sure her mind was a very strange place.
They’d been at the party thirty minutes without so much as a glimpse of Marnie and her date. Had his sister lied about coming to the party to get him to bring Kiki? Had she been stood up, or had there never been a date in the first place? And who in Copper Lake could Marnie possibly consider—
“There’s your sister.” Kiki gestured with her wineglass, nearly sloshing the liquid over the rim, and gave a high wave with her free scarlet-tipped fingers. “Robinson! Over here!”
Stephen turned to see Marnie just inside the double doors. He blinked, did a double-take. She wore a dress. When had he last seen her in a dress? High school graduation? Bigger surprise: it was red. She was about as color-friendly as he was. If his closet was white, khaki and black, hers was brown, black and gray. Even bigger surprise: her shoes weren’t the score-one-for-comfort-zero-for-style clunkers he’d thought was all she owned but sandals. They were high heels. With thin straps. And also red.
And the biggest surprise of all: he recognized the man holding her hand. The great-grandson or -nephew of the elderly sisters who lived down the road from him. The long-haul trucker. How the hell had they even met? Marnie knew only police officers, lawyers and the occasional medical personnel who got involved in cases. Outside of that bunch, she didn’t know anyone alive and breathing besides Stephen.
“You clean up well, Robinson,” Kiki said when Marnie and her date joined them. She thrust out her hand to the man. “I’m Katherine Isaacs.”
“John Gutierrez.” He shook hands with her, then turned to Stephen. “I’ve seen you down the road. My aunts talk about you a lot.”
Stephen was still having trouble comprehending that Marnie was dating a truck driver. He really wasn’t a snob. She’d just never shown any interest in a man who didn’t have a string of letters after his name.
Marnie narrowed her gaze at him, and Kiki slapped him on the arm. “Jeez, say hello to the guy, Noble.”
Great. Kiki, queen of the bold, brash and insensitive, had to correct his behavior. That was just wrong.
“Sorry. I’m Stephen.” He shook hands then shoved both of his in his pants pockets. “I like that color, Marnie.”
Her gaze flickered to the trucker. “John suggested it. It’s...” She ran her fingers over a bit of fabric. “Red.”
Stephen grinned. He knew what she’d wanted to say: around 640 nanometers. She had always preferred to identify colors by their wavelength or spectrum. “It looks good on you.”
She glanced down at herself. “Yes, it does.”
“Hey, Noble, I’ll be back.” Kiki moved into the crowd with no stealth or, as far as that went, grace. She’d spotted Ty Gadney alone for a moment, and he was in her sights.
“Does she call everyone by their last name?” John asked.
“Only those not in her social circle.” Marnie immediately lost interest in her friend-of-a-friend. “I understand you’re spending time with Mark Howard’s widow.”
Stephen blinked. “And how did you hear that?”
“Never discount the effectiveness of gossip.”
“I work with real live people and I haven’t heard any gossip.”
Marnie shrugged. “The people you work with like you. They’re not going to gossip where you can hear.”
With little-brother sympathy, he wondered if the people she worked with didn’t like her. More likely, they didn’t know what to make of her.
“Mark Howard.” John frowned. “Isn’t he the guy—”
“I’d like a drink, John. Bottled water.”
Marnie never meant to be rude. She just saw no point