She shook her head. “I’m not a singer.”
“You have a good voice.”
She shook her head even more adamantly this time. “I love to write songs, but I would never want to sing in front of a crowd. I really do want to design my gardens and cook. That’s the dream. Someday, it’ll happen. I’ve got so many recipes stored in my head. And I just look at empty spaces and see gardens planted in them everywhere I go.”
She looked around her. “Gideon, it’s almost morning. Lydia and the others are going to be worried. I’d better be getting back.”
He stood immediately and reached out his hand to help her up. “Thank you for meeting me. And for being understanding about my past.”
“I appreciate you telling me. I know it wasn’t easy to share.”
He took the blanket and shoved it into his backpack. She didn’t object to holding his hand as they walked to the back entrance of her apartment building. He went in with her and escorted her to Cindy’s apartment. He wasn’t taking any chances with her, not after all that had happened. He waited until she was safely inside before he started back to his home. Javier joined him once he was out on the street. Neither spoke as the SUV picked them up.
17
Ladies,” Detective Larrsen said, looking around the small room at the six women he’d asked to meet him here. “This is Detective Miles Abbott.”
Rory covered her yawn with her hand as she observed the newcomer. He appeared to be about ten years older than Larrsen. He had sandy-colored hair and was clean-shaven and nearly as fit. He wore a dark suit. Pam and Janice exchanged quick looks, and both glanced at his left hand to see if he wore a ring. They’d met him before, but not in such an official capacity. He’d questioned them with Westlake and Carver, but he hadn’t said much.
“Ladies,” Abbott said. He had a deep voice.
“This is Detective Morgan Wilson.”
Detective Morgan Wilson was closer to fifty. Married, wore his suit well, dark hair with threads of silver running through it. Nice smile that lit his very intelligent eyes. He had coffee-colored skin and chocolate eyes. If Rory had to guess, he was the boss.
She was suddenly very tense. Looking around at the otherwomen, she had the feeling they were as well. To cover her nerves, she sipped at her coffee. She had every excuse to appear tired. She was certain the cops had reviewed the security cameras and seen her drag in at the crack of dawn holding hands with Gideon.
“What’s going on, Detectives?” Janice demanded. “If you know who broke into our apartments, it would be nice to let us in on it.”
“I wish we had that information for you,” Detective Abbott said. “We know you’ve been asked questions over and over, and you’re most likely tired of answering, but sometimes, after you’ve had time to think about it, new details come into your mind.”
Rory couldn’t imagine what new details they were looking for.
“We’d like you to re-create the day Detective Ramsey was killed, where each of you were sitting when you first heard the gunshots and what you were doing. What you said and did and what you saw,” Detective Larrsen added.
“We always meet in this room to sort our mail, visit and have coffee,” Janice said. “It’s always in the afternoon because Rory, Pam and I work at night and sleep in. Sally arranges her schedule around our times. Cindy and Lydia work from home, so they do as well.”
“Do you always meet at the same time?” Detective Abbott asked.
“Yes, around three. That gives everyone time to work out if they want to before we meet here,” Sally said. “And I can finish my dog grooming appointments.”
“You’ve been meeting like this for how long?” Detective Wilson asked. “And how often?”
“Tuesdays and Thursdays are here for coffee,” Lydia said. “Workouts are Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We started meeting regularly about six months ago. Rory and Sally moved in later and joined us a little over four months ago.”
Rory could see that all three detectives were keeping separate notes. She studied their faces carefully under the veil of her lashes. None of them had the underlying anger that Westlake displayedor the accusatory glare Detective Carver sometimes seemed to have in his eyes when he looked at them. It didn’t seem as if they believed the women were guilty of conspiring to withhold evidence from the police as Westlake and Carver did.
“These are the seats you commonly sit in? The same ones you were sitting in that day Detective Ramsey came into the room with you?” Detective Abbott asked.
Janice looked around and nodded. “We all got in the habit of sitting in the same spots, so we tend to always take the same seats.”
“What were you doing?” Abbott asked.
“Drinking coffee. Sorting mail. We toss the junk mail,” Lydia explained. “I had Ellen with me. Cindy didn’t have the boys that day.”
Cindy shook her head. “No, I didn’t, and I’m so grateful. They were visiting my parents. We were laughing and talking, and then we heard a very distinctive popping sound. It was definitely gunfire in the apartments on the main floor. We all jumped up.”
“A man came in through the side door. We’d never seen him before.” Lydia took up the narrative. “He had blood on his chest and thigh and a gun in his hand. I scooped up Ellen and ran toward the back door of the lounge. It exits into the back hall. I was so scared for Ellen.”
