Page 66 of Murder on Charity Lane

“Are you interrogating me?”

“Just trying to prove your innocence.”

“Hm. I guess Pax started coming around maybe six months ago? His business card says, ‘Many Hands Make Light Work.’ I think that’s, like, his personal motto. Always happy to pitch in.”

“Did you ever get a massage?”

“Nah. It would’ve been weird.” She shot Ocean a flirtatious look. “I could use one, though. My shoulders are killing me.”

“I’m good at back rubs. Sculptor’s arms.”

“I’ll be the judge of that…”

“We’re here!” Pax called from the front door.

“Rain check,” CJ said, then downed the end of her mojito before heading to the living room.

Pax carried the birdcage inside, wearing a long-sleeved tee with a graphic of a colorful Darth Vader holding a gift basket above the logo DARTH NEIGHBOR.

“Two parakeets,” he announced, “straight from Costa Rica.”

“They’re from Australia,” CJ told him.

“Oh. I don’t know why I thought that.”

“Probably all the Costa Rica maps in my room.”

“What’s up with those?” Ocean asked, because she’d hung two of the framed ones.

“I spent a few months there on holiday. I loved it.”

“When was that?”

“Frank took me. He expensed me as a secretary but it was mostly an excuse to share a luxury vacation with me.”

“What a boss,” Pax said, setting the cage in the corner.

“Yeah. He took me on most of his trips before he married Karina. He liked the company, and—”

Out of nowhere CJ began to weep. She couldn’t speak, and she couldn’t stop, so she rushed to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror for a long, ugly moment. Then splashed water on her face. Then she kept crying, so she splashed more water on her face.

When she’d finally pulled herself together, Pax was gone and Ocean was waiting at the kitchen table. CJ wanted Ocean to hold her and rock her, and promise her that everything would be all right. But she didn’t want to add to her burden. She didn’t want this new fragile relationship to be based upon needing comfort while she mourned Frank.

She sniffled. “I just think I need some time alone.”

Ocean stood from the table with a soft smile. “Let me know when you want that back rub.”

32

LILY-ANN

Anthony’s muscles tensed beneath his skin as he did one of his kettlebell routines, moving with a grace that still surprised Lily-Ann. His shoulders bunched, then stretched, and his thighs thickened as his big hands tightened on the handles. She sat at the small kitchen table in his studio, working on a spreadsheet for the Murder Collective, but she was having trouble concentrating.

Then Ocean rapped on the door and stepped inside. She took two steps toward Lily-Ann before she stopped, watching Anthony with a clinical eye.

Then she said: “I need you to model for me.”

Anthony grunted.