Bud blinked. Just blinked. Yeah, Donna in full Italian feminine mode was like looking into the sun. With her black hair and mysterious eyes, I’d always thought she was beautiful. Her intelligence and kind heart only made her even more stunning.
“I’m married,” Bud burst out.
Ice cream went down the wrong tube in my throat and I coughed wildly, bending over. He was married? Tessa pounded me on the back until I stopped. Tears flowed down my face as I struggled to breathe. “You’re married?” I croaked.
He set the ice cream bowl on the table. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m married. When I asked about your sister before, we were separated, and we were working toward a divorce. There were papers and everything. Then Sheila called last week and wasn’t sure she wanted a divorce. I don’t know. I’m confused, but I am married.”
It was the most words I’d heard Bud speak at once in the entire time I’d known him.
Donna patted his arm. “Relax, Bud. It’s all good.” She reached for his bowl and handed it to him. “So. Tell us all about it.” Curiosity now glimmered in her eyes.
Quint exited my bedroom and stalked toward the sofa to retake his place. “I am very sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I leaned over for his bowl, which was still half full. “You’re not done.”
He took the bowl. “Oh, I’m done. Jolene and I are no longer seeing each other.”
I chucked him with my shoulder. “What a crappy night.”
“Amen to that,” he said grimly. “Pass the Baileys, would you?”
“Sure.” Tessa handed him the liqueur. “We might need a bigger bottle.”
Chapter 30
The crime scene tape was gone, and the blood in my office cleaned up when I arrived on Wednesday morning. I made a mental note to thank Detective Pierce for that. Bud took residence in the empty office that had briefly been inhabited by Kurt, and both Pauley and Oliver seemed happy to be back at work. Clark had a breakfast meeting, and I hoped it wasn’t an interview for a job with another firm—one with health insurance and no dead bodies.
My morning consisted of phone calls. First to cousin Wanda to apologize for missing our lunch appointment the day before, but since she worked in the same building, she was well versed in what had happened. Then to Pierce to see if he could track down the current location of Krissy Walker.
He called me back within fifteen minutes. “Hey. Krissy Walker is still here in custody. They’re transporting her back to the women’s prison early this afternoon.”
“Great. Can you get me in to see her?” If she’d just recant her testimony, then the case against her sister would fold.
“Sure. What’s one more favor?” he muttered.
I winced. “You’re right. This friendship of ours seems one-sided. What can I do for you?”
“We’re not friends,” he retorted.
Yeah, we kind of were friends, whether he liked it or not. “We should change that, then. How about lunch today? I’m buying.”
“Can’t,” Pierce said. “I’ll get you in to see Walker in an hour, but you need to come early. I have a few more questions about the woman found dead in your office.”
Good. That meant he’d kept the case for now, and the Feds hadn’t taken over yet. “I’ll be there.” Then I called Kelsey and asked her to meet me at the station a little before ten and told her to bring anything sentimental to her sister. If I could close out her case, my stress level would decrease enough that I could at least breathe without my chest hurting. It wasn’t fair for Kelsey to be hurt anymore in this life.
With Bud protecting me and providing shade from the sun, I stopped by Smiley’s Diner to see Tessa on my way walking to the courthouse. She’d had an early shift, and it was in full swing, so I just waved as I waited for the two lattes and pastries to be finished. “Bud? You sure you don’t want one?”
He stayed by the door where he could see the entire restaurant. “I don’t like coffee.”
I knew there was something wrong about him. What was the story with his wife, anyway? I’d have to pin him down later.
A man in the back booth caught my eye and my back stiffened. Kurt. I hurried toward him. “Hi.”
He had a black eye and a bruise along his neck but was still breathing. A half-eaten omelet sat in front of him next to a cup of coffee. “Hi.”
I hovered near his table. “I’m sorry you were taken off the case.”
He shrugged and then winced as if it hurt. “I screwed up. It happens.” He looked casual in jeans and a green tee, and his body language appeared nonchalant.
