so free with the gory details, okay? I could get fired if anybody finds out I called you from the crime scene.â
Guilt washed over me. I bit my lower lip. Who needs collagen when you can get the plump look by gnawing on yourself? âI might have let something slip to Tucker,â I confessed.
Jolie stared at me, her eyes going huge and round. She was beautiful, even clad in khaki shorts, a Phoenix PD T-shirt and hiking boots. Her long hair, done up in about a million skinny braids, was tied back with a twisted bandana. âMojo Sheepshanks,â she said, âyou didnât tell him I told you about Alex?â
âHe guessed,â I said.
âRight,â Jolie snapped, glaring.
âNot to worry,â I said, holding up two fingers pressed close together. âHe and I are like that. â
Jolie swirled an index finger around one temple. âYou and Tucker are like this. Both of you are crazy!â
âTucker isnât,â I said.
Jolie turned back to the soup, her spine rigid.
âYouâre going to have to sit with Greer tonight,â I told her. âSo I hope you donât have any plans.â
Jolie didnât look at me. âAnd where will you be?â
âI have some investigating to do.â
Jolie muttered something I didnât quite catch, but I thought I heard the words real job in there somewhere.
âIâll be back as soon as I can,â I said. âAnd how hard can it be to hang out with Greer for a couple of hours?â
Jolie rounded her eyes at me.
Just then the front door crashed open, and Greer came in. She went immediately to the cupboards and started ripping through them, a one-armed marauder. She found a package of OreosâNick liked to smell them, and even though I seriously doubted heâd ever be back, I kept them around just in caseâand started stuffing them into her mouth, two at a time.
I figured a size-twenty-two wardrobe might be one of the dark secrets hidden in my foster sisterâs mysterious past.
âAlex is dead,â she said, spewing crumbs. âHeâs dead! â
Jolie and I exchanged glances.
âSit down, Greer,â I said as Jolie pulled back a chair and pushed her into it. Greer looked up at us, her mouth rimmed with cookie dust.
âWhat?â I threw in when nobody spoke, hoping it sounded as if the news had come as a shock.
âThe bastard isnât off boinking some floozy,â Greer informed us, wild-eyed. âHeâs a cadaver!â
âCalm down,â I said, âand tell us what happened.â
Greerâs eyes filled with tears. She opened her mouth, shoved in three more Oreos and tried to talk around them. âI just got a call from the police,â she said, the words garbled. âSome hikers stumbled across Alexâs body in the desert this morning. Heâd been shot. â
I tossed Jolie a See? Sheâs surprised kind of look.
Jolie took the soup off the burner and set the saucepan aside.
âWhat am I going to do?â Greer asked.
Jolie pulled up a third chair and sat down. âYou can start by telling us whether or not you killed him,â she said.
Greer gasped, and then went into a choking fit. Obviously she still hadnât swallowed all the Oreo residue.
I jumped up and pounded on her back, while Jolie got her some water.
âKilled him?â Greer gasped once sheâd recovered the ability to breathe.
âThe man was probably cheating on you,â Jolie said evenly after flinging a shut-up glance in my direction. âHeâd moved out and you hired Sherlock here to get the proof. The police are going to want to know if you offed him, Greer, or paid somebody else to do it.â
Greer bolted for the bathroom.
Power vomiting ensued.
âGood work,â I told Jolie in a harsh whisper. âWhy didnât you just ask her how much she stood to inherit and when she plans to remarry?â
Jolie