“I’ll go as slow as you need, I swear it. We’ll get this right.”
Don’t ask him why he’s willing to do this. And don’t you dare ponder the curse. The consequences of risking a relationship. The pain that came with a loss.
You’re pondering. Stop!
Her heart fluttered. “Thank you, Conrad.” After planting a swift kiss on his cheek, earning a proud smile from him, she jogged to the driver’s side.
He settled into the passenger seat and within minutes, they were buckled up and sailing down the road. Since the Manor was so close to Tiffany Hotchkins’s house—no more than a five-minute drive, ten max—why not take a detour? To return to the Garden of Memories, Jane needed to pass the gated community, anyway… if she made a wrong turn into the neighborhood. Which she did. A quick drive-by wouldn’t hurt anything.
She stopped at a security gate...where she punched in the code. Everyone in town knew it. No big deal.
“What are you doing, Jane?” Conrad sounded resigned. “This isn’t the way to the cemetery.”
“We’re taking the scenic route? Enjoying a leisurely drive together before getting down to business? Which excuse do you prefer?”
He groaned as she drove down Tiffany’s street at a crawl. The three-story sprawling mansion loomed ahead, golden light filtering through picturesque windows. The widow must be home. With Jake?
“Just so you know, Mrs. Hotchkins isn’t Ana’s killer,” Conrad announced.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I personally looked into everyone who could possibly hold a grudge against you, and her alibi checked out.”
“And people can’t hire killers to do the dirty work for them?” Or date one?
He snorted.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted a sleek black sports car speeding down Tiffany’s long, winding driveway. On accident—honest!—Jane slammed on her brakes, blocking the only exit.
The sports car screeched to a halt. Seconds later, the passenger door swung open and Tiffany emerged. The driver remained inside the vehicle. Jane squinted at the tinted windshield, but she could only make out the boxy shape of a man. Hello, Jake.
Illuminated by the car’s headlights, a frowning Widow Hotchkins strode over. The driver side of Jane’s hearse faced the other woman. She rolled down the window with a million cranks of her wrist. No automatic button for her. Cool, crisp night air filled the cabin.
“Jane? Is that you?” the sophisticated beauty asked, adjusting the single shoulder strap on a curve-fitting black mini-dress. “What are you doing here?” Exasperation and curiosity laced her tone. That curiosity was a good thing, right?
But Jane couldn’t get over Tiffany’s transformation. No more red-rimmed green eyes. Gone was the coifed, understated elegance she’d adopted as a doctor’s wife. Wild hair, six-inch stilettos and a sexy outfit said one thing—woman on the prowl. Did the guy in the driver’s seat hope to be her next meal?
“Jane?” Tiffany prompted. “You are here for a reason, aren’t you?”
“Oh, um, yes. I’m driving with my boyfriend. Not that he’s my boyfriend. He isn’t even technically one of my fifteen dates tonight.” Her cheeks heated. “I mean, he’s obviously my date tonight because we’re together. Not that we’re together together. We’re still figuring things out. We haven’t put a label on it or anything but—” Shut up. Just shut up.
Conrad offered the brunette a courteous wave. “Hi. I’m the boyfriend.”
“Yes, I remember you. The cop.” Tiffany narrowed her eyes before returning her attention to Jane. “I’ll ask again. What are you doing here?”
“I saw your car and my foot hit the brake. An automatic reflex, I bet. Anyone else would have experienced the same thing in my situation, I’m sure of it. Don’t worry. The hearse isn’t stuck. I can move it anytime.”
Tiffany heaved a sigh. “It’s no problem, really. Besides, I’m glad you’re here.”
Wait–-what? “You are?”
“I’ve been meaning to reach out. I’m the one who owes you an apology.” The widow gazed down at her wringing hands. “I treated you poorly after Marcus died. And I’d like to thank you for helping the authorities find out who hurt him.” She glanced over her shoulder and waved the driver over. “What are you doing next Saturday evening? Why don’t you come over? I’ll make dinner. You can bring your boyfriend, and I’ll bring mine.”
Next Saturday night? An entire week from now. Dinner? Prepared by Tiffany and attended by Jake. An investigator’s dream. Which struck Jane as suspicious. Why set themselves up for interrogation? Unless they hoped to interrogate her?
Stop that! Conrad was a super smart guy, and he considered Tiffany innocent. So, she just might be innocent. But she might also be guilty. That wasn’t conjecture, but a fact. Anyone could be guilty. People did things. And what about this mysterious Jake? Why hadn’t he gotten out of the car yet? Was he hiding?
“I…accept?” Jane said, glancing at Conrad.
The driver’s side door of the sports car finally opened, and a handsome man with a mop of pale hair emerged. Golden tan. Square jaw. From here, she couldn’t make out the color of his eyes.