Free Eeny Meany Miny Die (Cat Sinclair Mysteries) by Carolyn Scott

maverick attitude—yes, believe it or not, he'd been a rebel back in the day—had led to Scarface getting shot and losing an eye. Since then, Will had changed and become the sort of guy who avoided domestics and any other situation that called for a radical approach. He played by the book and liked everything to work his way or no way.
    Scarface didn't like the new Will. He wanted his old buddy back, the one who squeezed the answers out of suspects and entered unsecured buildings to save a life. I wasn't so sure that Will had buried his old self as completely as Scarface thought. I knew he was capable of losing that iron control. I'd seen it happen in bed—and on the kitchen bench, his desk, and once, the back yard at his place.
    "What about the other members of Play Group?" Stankovic asked. "Angel Karvea for instance. Did she get along with her husband?"
    I saw no reason to protect her. She wasn't my client. I hardly knew her. "Frank bullied her."
    "How did he bully her?" Scarface asked. "Was he abusive?"
    "Verbally, but not physically, I think." I certainly hadn't seen any bruises on her when she'd done the strip show in her room. "He liked to keep her in her place, like a child. He ordered her food, controlled her spending money, that sort of thing."
    "Lots of husbands do that," Stankovic said.
    "Not in this century."
    "Guess I'm an old-fashioned guy."
    "Dinosaur more like."
    His face got redder and his lips whiter. I leaned back, out of his zone in case something popped.
    "You're wasting our time," Stankovic said. "Get her out of here, Forde."
    "Oh?" I said, all innocent. "So you don't want to know about Corey and Angel?"
    "What about them?" he grumbled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scarface smirk.
    "They were playing footsies under the table."
    Stankovic shrugged. "Could mean nothing."
    "Yeah, right. Everyone rubs feet under the table when their husband sits only a few seats away."
    "That all you've got?"
    I wanted to tell him to shove his attitude and give him nothing else, but my conscience got the better of me. She's a bitch that way. "Did you find the photos of Taylor in Frank's suitcase?"
    "Maybe," Scarface said, casual.
    His guarded answer was ruined by Stankovic. "Of course we fucking did. Anything else?"
    "That's all."
    "Good. Then go."
    Scarface looked like he had more questions, but he just jerked his head toward the door. He met me there and opened it for me, but stepped in the way so I couldn't get past. "I haven't finished with you yet." His voice was a soft purr in my ear. His roughened jaw skimmed my cheek.
    "Promises, promises," I sang.
    "If I find out you've withheld something important, Cat, I definitely won't be finished with you."
    I gulped. "Gotta go. I've got work to do. Can't stand around chatting to you all day."
    He let me go, and I drove back to the office. There was no point returning to the concert hall to speak to Jenny and the others. The cops would be all over them. They wouldn't be allowed to speak to each other let alone me. I wasn't sure where it left me with Jenny's case. If I could prove her money was invested in something without her consent, then maybe she could put in a claim with Frank's beneficiaries.
    Speaking of which—who benefited financially from his death? Usually the spouse did, but Frank's ex-wife might have a claim too. It wasn't looking good for Angel. I felt bad for telling the cops about her footsie play with Corey, but Scarface would have found out eventually. He was omniscient that way.
    I parked the car outside Gina's shop and headed inside. She was with a customer, so I waited until she was free and then I dumped my bag on the counter and sighed heavily.
    "Hey, Cat," she said. "You going to kickboxing tonight?"
    "Definitely. After the day I've had, I need to punch something."
    "That good, huh?"
    "You'll never guess what's happened to me. Again."
    She narrowed her eyes. "Someone's not trying to kill you, are they?"
    "No!"
    "Rape you?"
    "Gina!"
    "Blackmail