Free Murder Has a Sweet Tooth by Miranda Bliss Page B

Because I’ll tell you right now, no way that’s true.”
    “Then she didn’t know him?” I asked.
    “I can’t even imagine she knew where that bar was.” This came from Beth. She paused and glanced at her friends. “Well, can any of you? Vickie was such a home-body. She would never hang around in a bar by herself.”
    “Only she wasn’t by herself,” I reminded them.
    “Vickie wasn’t the type who snuck around and did things behind her husband’s back,” Celia added. “She never would have been in that bar alone. And she sure never would have been carrying on with somebody. It’s crazy.”
    “But the cops think that guy . . . I think I read his name was Alex . . . they say that this Alex guy did it. Do you have any theories about why he would?”
    Celia shook her head. Glynis stared at the ground. Beth started crying all over again.
    And I knew I wasn’t going to get another thing out of them. “Look, I really am sorry to have dredged up so much sorrow,” I said, relieved that at least I could be honest about this. “I’m sorry you lost your friend in such a horrible way, and I’m truly sorry because I can see that you’re going to miss her terribly.”
    “She was perfect,” Celia said, and it struck me that it wasn’t the first time I’d heard the word. I remembered the eulogies these women had given back at the funeral. Each one of them had used that word, perfect .
    Perfect friend.
    Perfect wife.
    Perfect mother.
    Vickie Monroe was perfect.
    So what was she doing hanging out in a bar every Tuesday night?
    And if she was so perfect, why would anybody want to kill her?

Five

    APPARENTLY THE COPS HAD ALREADY BROKEN THE news to Alex. That would explain why when he walked into the visitors’ room at the jail that Wednesday evening, the first thing out of his mouth was, “I didn’t know, Annie. Honest, I didn’t know that Vickie was married.”
    If Alex was a liar, he was a mighty good one. When he sat down in the chair across from mine, I studied the pained expression on his face.
    “They think it’s why I killed her,” he said on the end of a sigh. “They think that maybe I didn’t know, and that Vickie, she told me that night that she was married and that I wasn’t happy hearing it.” His voice faded; his gaze was suddenly unfocused. It took him a couple seconds to come out of his funk, but when he did, his eyes snapped right to mine. “I never knew until the police told me. I swear to God.”
    “And I believe you.” The guard outside the door happened to be watching, or I would have reached across the table to give Alex’s hand a squeeze.
    “Jim couldn’t come.” Since I was alone, it was an obvious thing for him to say, but I forgave him. In a place like this—in a situation this insane—it was only natural for Alex to think about his friend and cousin.
    “You know how the restaurant business can be. There was some problem with a beer delivery today and Damien, one of our cooks, has been sick. Jim wanted to be here—”
    “But he’s busy. Aye. I understand. And I know he’ll come by when he has a chance.” Alex shifted in his chair. “And the house? I feel so awful about the house, Annie. The redecorating, it’s my gift to you and Jim. And now . . .”
    “It doesn’t matter.” It didn’t. But a thing not mattering and that same thing not being of burning interest, those are two different things. I tried not to sound too eager when I said, “I’m sure you’ve already accomplished a whole lot in the house. You probably got the living and the dining room done, and . . .” I drew out the last word, encouraging him to chime right in.
    Instead, Alex laughed. I shouldn’t have been offended, seeing as how I’d intended to cheer him up with this visit. I wouldn’t have been offended if he didn’t shake his head in wonder. “You’re brazen, you know that, woman? Even here in a jail in the midst of the worst thing that’s ever happened to me—”
    “I’m