Free Dead Girl in a Green Dress by Loucinda McGary Page B

my – the victim – have on anything else?"
    The balding detective shook his head. "A dress and panties, that’s it ."
    "We already knew about the missing shoes," Tate reminded as Byrony’s frown deepened.
    "My step-mother said Jessica’s brand new yellow running shoes were missing." Shaffer’s eyebrows lifted and he scribbled on a post-it note. "But that’s not the only thing bothering me." Byrony mused as she laid several of the photos on the table. "Look at this dress."
    Tate glanced at the bright green garment with large, black floral shapes. "Fancy."
    "It’s a designer, and not just any designer." Byrony stabbed her finger at a close-up shot of the label. "This says Oscar de la Renta . I can’t imagine Jessica or any other twenty-year-old wearing Oscar de la Renta . His stuff isn’t really aimed for such a young age group. Besides, Jessica couldn’t afford a dress like this."
    "Maybe someone else bought it." Shaffer voiced the thought that instantly sprang to Tate’s mind, and by speaking up, the detective saved Tate from playing devil’s advocate. Then, at Byrony’s skeptical expression, the other man added, "Or maybe she borrowed it?"
    However, Byrony continued to shake her head in protest. "It still doesn’t make sense. She wasn’t wearing anything else but this fancy dress and underwear?"
    While Tate squirmed with discomfort, Shaffer coughed to cover his derisive snort. Byrony glared at both of them and held up a photo of plain white panties. "Trust me, these are not the underpants a woman wears with a sexy dress. Especially if she’s seeing her boyfriend."
    Shaffer genuinely choked at her blunt words, and Tate nearly did too. But at the same time, he saw the logic of her observation. If Byrony wore something like that little green and black number, he’d expect her to have some alluring black lace panties under it… maybe black thigh-high stockings and shiny black high heels – Shit! Where did that come from? He twisted self-consciously in his chair.
      "Point taken." Detective Shaffer looked equally ill at ease. "So what are you trying to say?"
    Byrony bit her bottom lip. "I’m not sure. The killer stole Jessica’s clothes, shoes, and purse, then put a designer dress on her?" With a groan of frustration, she dropped her head into her hands. "Crazy, I know…"
    "No, just sick," Tate countered with a low growl. Then he muttered, "No sign of sexual assault?"
    The detective shook his head.
    Eyes squeezed shut, Byrony sat like a pale statue. Tate touched her shoulder and she jerked as if burned and her golden eyes flew open. "I’m okay," she whispered.
    "No, you’re not." Tate shoved all the photos back into their respective folders, safely out of sight. This was exactly what he had not wanted to happen. "We’ve seen enough for today." He pushed the files toward Shaffer with a meaningful lift of his brows.
    Taking his cue, the detective cleared his throat. "Guess I’ve got plenty of work to do. First off, I’ll research for any similar crimes. It’s possible the sick bastard has done this before."
    As Tate stood, he remembered his earlier promise to Byrony . "Another thing you probably want to check is the Grand Hotel manager, Mr. Prince. We talked to him yesterday, and call it a hunch, but I think the dude knows more than he’s saying."
    Shaffer stared in slack-jawed surprise for a moment then stuttered, "I – I’ll, uh, give Mr. Prince a call."
    Helping Byrony to her feet, Tate offered his hand to the detective. "Appreciate you cooperating with us." In truth, he’d found Shaffer pretty unimpressive thus far. Looked like pressuring Prince into telling what he knew would fall to Tate after all, and a small corner of his mind relished the idea. In the meantime, he needed to get Byrony out of here. "C’mon, Sunshine. Let’s grab some lunch."
    They’d turned in their visitor badges and headed for the door before Byrony spoke again. She stopped suddenly, golden eyes wide. "We forgot to