I know she didn’t justBless Your Heartme. I grew up in the South, and I knew that wasn’t a compliment. I grunted at her. “Is there a point to your rambling?”
“Yes,” she turned back to the screens. “Echo has a lot of evidence that she was where she said she was. Receipts. Surveillance video. She even left a hefty tip with the masseuse at the spa, basically ensuring that the masseuse would remember her.”
“What did the notes say about how detectives talked to her? Her response?” I asked.
“That’s the thing,” Tatiana scowled. “They only talked to her on the phone the first time.”
“Motherfucker,” I slammed my coffee cup down on the counter. “Seriously? They tipped off a suspect by calling her?”
“That’s what they did with me,” Celia jutted out her chin. “Which, come to think of it, is a little strange. They didn’t get my initial reaction to learning Octavio was dead.”
“And they sure as shootin’ didn’t get the wife’s reaction either,” Tatiana pointed to the report. “It was almost an hour before they talked to her.”
“Address,” I barked at Tatiana. “We’ll go talk to her ourselves.”
Tatiana clicked the keys. My phone pinged with an address. “She’s at home. And while you’re there, maybe you could interview the neighbors. I just sent you the list of witnesses who were home at the time of the murder.”
I confirmed the list on my phone, then groaned out loud.
“What?” Celia blinked.
“That neighborhood.”
“Aureus?”
“Bunch of pretentious assholes,” I grunted. “Come on. Let’s go see how the other half lives and rattle some cages while we’re there.”
Celia hopped up out of her chair and waved goodbye to Tatiana.
Her enthusiasm warmed my chest. I did my best to shove it down into a box. My brain knew we needed to distance ourselves from her, but my body had other ideas. Nasty, dirty, awesome ideas.
I’m so fucked.
