him.
Then there was Helena, another suspect. The case files revealed her alibi to not be nearly as ironclad as Nate’s. Just because she claimed to have gone to the bathroom down the hall from the rental office of their former apartment complex did not make it a fact.
But did I really think Helena or Trina were more likely suspects than someone like J.T. O’Brien? No. But I also couldn’t blindly ignore the evidence I’d uncovered thus far.
In any case I didn’t want our day to be ruined by the damn Harbour Falls Mystery, so I said, “Maybe we should change the subject. Agreed?”
Helena and Trina nodded emphatically. Both seemed relieved, and we began to discuss less serious topics. Like which stores we’d be hitting up on our shopping extravaganza. Trina excitedly listed off a dizzying array of shops and boutiques in the area. I hadn’t been shopping since before I’d left LA, so I was kind of excited to get started.
After leaving the bistro, we walked down the block to the first boutique on Trina’s list, and then the next and the next. Trina’s list was inexhaustible, it seemed. Our shopping spree continued down the corridor of fashionable shops. There was no end in sight until we finally, as late afternoon approached, entered a trendy boutique specializing in women’s business wear. Exhausted, we all agreed to make it our final stop for the day.
The shop was very small, and there was only one other customer—an exceptionally attractive blonde woman. The sales clerk placed a handwritten receipt in a tiny envelope and then handed that, and a bag, to the woman.
When the blonde woman turned to us, Helena shot Trina a look I couldn’t decipher, and then she grabbed my hand. “We should just skip this store,” she said, pulling me toward the door. “In fact, I think I’ve maxed out my credit card.”
Trina came up from behind me—blocking my view of the store—and nervously added, “Yeah, me too.”
Something more was happening. I wasn’t buying the suddenly maxed-out credit card stories. My suspicion was quickly confirmed when a soft, very feminine voice rang out from behind us. “Trina? Is that you?”
Trina groaned and stepped aside, and I came face-to-face with the petite, flaxen-haired beauty that’d been at the register. I stepped back, catching Trina and Helena glancing uneasily at one another before simultaneously looking to me. Apparently they were anticipating some sort of a reaction, though I had no idea why.
At least I didn’t until Trina said to the diminutive woman standing there, “Hi, Lindsey. How have you been?”
Lindsey? As in Adam’s Lindsey? Oh God, I instantly felt self-conscious. This woman was extremely attractive, although in a more subtle way than Chelsea. One thing for sure, Jennifer had not been lying—Adam had obviously dated nothing but incredibly beautiful women in the past. Chelsea. Lindsey. Who else? I couldn’t help but wonder, what in the hell does he see in me?
After Lindsey introduced herself to Helena, she flipped her long, very straight blonde hair over her shoulder and turned to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe we’ve met, though you do look familiar.” She scrunched her beautiful face in thought for a second and added, “I’m Lindsey, by the way.”
“I’m Maddy—”
“Maddy, as in Maddy Fitch,” Helena interrupted. “You know, the best-selling novelist.”
I knew what Helena was doing, trying to keep the conversation diverted away from Adam. But even with Helena proudly touting my vocation, I couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy in comparing myself to this stunning woman who, up until very recently, had been sleeping with Adam. Satisfying his—what had Jennifer said?—voracious appetite.
Ugh. I felt ill as Jennifer’s words haunted me. Perhaps this woman had been Jennifer’s source of information regarding Adam. Did she know Lindsey? Maybe Lindsey had visited Adam on the island. After all, Helena recognized her. But Trina had introduced them as if they didn’t know one another. Had Helena seen a picture of Lindsey then? It was all too confusing.
“Oh,” Lindsey said, some kind of recognition registering on her face. “So you are Maddy Fitch. Hmm…” She eyed me up and down. “…very interesting.”
From her tone of voice, I knew she’d just realized I was Maddy Fitch—not so much the mystery writer—but rather Maddy Fitch, Adam’s new love interest. Guess word had gotten around to her.
I glared at Lindsey, daring her to say more. Trina and Helena exchanged a worried look, and Trina said, “Well, we really should get going, it’s getting late.”
“But you just got here,”