Page 98 of Murder on Charity Lane

Ocean

Says she’ll show us tonight

at Hamilton’s house?

Hamilton

Sounds great. With rings on your

fingers and bells on your toes.

Lily-Ann

Anthony is baking baguettes

as we speak.

Hamilton

Oooh! I’ll make Italian sodas.

Anyone like any flavor more

than Spicy Lavender?

Nicholas

Yes.

Hamilton

How about Salted Egg Yolk?

Nicholas

I cannot tell if you’re joking.

Hamilton

Custard-y!

Anthony looked at Lily-Ann. “You still think you know where Mrs. B went?”

“Absolutely,” she said.

And while she knew that this didn’t reflect well upon her, she was relieved. She wanted to think about Frank DeYoung’s murder, about CJ’s guilt, about this new cast of suspects. About why anyone would kill a good man with only a few years left. Because that was so much better than thinking about having framed her ex-husband.

She didn’t say that, though. She just watched Anthony as he labored over his phone for two minutes, then sent her a thumbs-up.

46

SOPHIE

When Nicholas and I arrived at Hamilton’s, we found Lily-Ann frowning at the buffet table. I understood the feeling. Hell, Ocean was brokenhearted and Mrs. B had run away from home. We needed to help CJ. Urgently. We needed to prove her innocence and free her from jail. Which meant we needed to find the real killer.

Still, I hadn’t quite stopped smiling at Nicholas’s faux complaints about his new bathroom setup. “Everything is too damn convenient! It smells like a rose garden in here!”

I’d put my hair in a high pony, because Lily-Ann felt unnerved if I wore it any other way outside of work. We had a special relationship. An unspoken one. So unspoken that I was only halfway sure she knew it existed. I saw her as sort of a big sister. I was an only child and I wondered what it said about me that I’d chosen her as an older sibling. Probably that I valued sensible reliability with little emotion.