Page 82 of Murder on Charity Lane

Enible cleared his throat almost apologetically. “I didn’t realize CJ Moore’s connection to the Marigold Cottages was romantic.”

“Shut up, Enible!”

He nodded sadly, then, and followed the cops out to the squad cars. Ocean glared at the police leading a silently crying CJ away. She wanted to scream. She wanted to break something.

“Oh, no,” Sophie said, her voice shaky. “Oh, that poor thing.”

Ocean hugged her. She needed it more than Sophie. She felt a hitch in her breath and forced herself to exhale slowly, calmly, until the red tint in her vision faded away.

“I guess they got more evidence?” Sophie tentatively suggested. “Should we ask Hamilton if his cop friend knows anything?”

“Yeah.” Ocean breathed again. “And I need to see about that lawyer.”

Sophie chewed her lower lip. “You know how I know CJ’s innocent?”

“How?”

“Because she’s so into you. And, I mean, surely you don’t fall in love if you’re waiting for the axe to fall?”

“I don’t know, Sophie. Do we ever choose the right time to fall in love?”

“Oh! Um … so, who’s going to tell Mrs. B?”

Ocean groaned because she knew she was. Of course. And the last time one of Mrs. B’s tenants had been arrested, she’d turned herself in for the crime. Of course, she’d been guilty, but that was hardly the point. She wiped her hands on her overalls and headed for Mrs. B’s cottage.

38

LILY-ANN

For the first time ever, Lily-Ann didn’t prepare a meal for a meeting of the Marigold Cottages Murder Collective. She needed to email a project to her boss before the deadline, and didn’t have time to throw anything together. So she didn’t bother objecting when Nicholas ordered pizzas from Capriccio.

She didn’t arrive first, either. When she walked into Hamilton’s cottage, she found Sophie already there, listening to Hamilton talk about cats.

“I’m partial to ragdolls and British shorthairs,” he was saying, “especially the blues, who are supposed to have what’s called ‘pineapple eyes,’ though I’m not sure what that implies.”

“Maybe just the color?” Sophie suggested.

“Oh! Is pineapple a color?”

“Orange is,” Lily-Ann said, closing the front door behind herself. “And lemon.”

Hamilton’s brow knotted. “Surely, not all fruits are colors.”

“Lime,” she said. “Avocado.”

“Stop teasing him,” Sophie told her, with a quick smile.

Lily-Ann hadn’t been teasing. “You should adopt one from the shelter, anyway.”

“Then I’d have to go to the shelter,” Hamilton said.

“I’ll go for you,” she told him.

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

Hamilton snapped his fingers. “Grape!”