smiled wistfully. “Maribel never went jogging. She always said she was too lazy and undisciplined for serious exercise. And it wasn’t at all unusual for men to stare at her in public. As you probably noticed, she was a beautiful woman. She was used to guys hitting on her all the time.”
Paulo didn’t doubt it.
“Garrett’s here,” Donovan said from the doorway, announcing the deputy chief medical examiner’s arrival.
At Paulo’s request, Kathleen recounted her discovery of the body, repeating what she had already told the first officer on the scene, as well as Detective Donovan. Afterward Paulo thanked her for her cooperation, gave her his card, and asked her to call him or his partner if she thought of anything else that might help. She gratefully accepted his offer to have an officer follow her home.
As Paulo and Donovan made their way back to Maribel Cruz’s bedroom to confer with the ME, Donovan said, “What did you think of Phillips?”
“I think she’s hiding something,” Paulo said flatly.
The younger detective frowned. “Like what?”
Paulo’s mouth curved in a grim smile. “I guess that’s for her to know, and us to find out.”
Chapter 3
As soon as Tommie returned to her loft after seeing Paulo off, she grabbed her cell phone and dialed her sister’s number. After three rings she was about to hang up when a deep, masculine voice answered, “Hello?”
“Hey, Sebastien,” Tommie greeted her brother-in-law.
“Hey, girl.” His voice was tinged with laughter, as if he’d been enjoying some joke before he picked up the phone. “How you doing?”
“Can’t complain. How about you? How’s work?”
“Never a dull moment.”
“I’ll bet,” Tommie said wryly.
Sebastien Durand was a homicide detective in the San Antonio Police Department. The first time Tommie met him, he’d been investigating the murder of a dancer who had worked at the same strip club as Tommie. Although Tommie had been instantly attracted to Sebastien, she’d never stood a chance with him. He’d only had eyes for her sister, Frankie. Once Tommie got over her wounded ego—which hadn’t been easy—she’d realized just how right Frankie and Sebastien were for each other. Soul mates was the term that came to mind every time she saw them together.
“Hey, is Frankie—” The rest of Tommie’s question was drowned out by a child’s high-pitched squeal in the background. It was followed by the patter of running feet on hardwood and a woman’s exasperated voice crying out, “Boy, get your little butt back here!”
Tommie grinned. “Let me guess. Bath time?”
“You guessed it,” Sebastien said, laughing. “Marcos just made a jailbreak. Let me go rescue your sister so you can talk to her.”
Tommie opened her mouth to tell him she would call back later, but Sebastien had already put down the phone. Tommie heard more laughter in the background as he and Frankie chased their naked two-year-old son around the room. The sound of Marcos Durand’s childish giggles melted Tommie’s heart, bringing a tender smile to her face. The worst part about living in another city was not being able to see her nephew every day. She adored that little boy. With his father’s gray eyes and his mother’s thick curly hair, Marcos was already a little heartbreaker.
While Tommie waited for her sister to come to the phone, she slipped off her pointe shoes and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, she reached into the refrigerator and pulled out the bottle of merlot she’d offered to Paulo earlier.
As she retrieved a wineglass from the cabinet, Frankie came on the line, laughing and sounding out of breath. “I swear that child of mine is going to run track when he grows up. He’s so fast! I turn my back one second, and he’s off like a bolt of lightning!”
Tommie chuckled, rummaging around a drawer for the corkscrew. “Where is he now?”
“Sebastien’s getting him ready for bed.” Frankie heaved a gusty sigh. “Who needs membership to a gym? Chasing after Marcos every night gives me more than enough of a workout.”
Tommie grinned lasciviously. “I thought that was Sebastien’s job.”
Frankie laughed.
There was a time that such a joke would have made both women uncomfortable. It would have been laced with bitterness, delivered as a barbed attack. Thankfully, that time had passed. Both Frankie and Sebastien had forgiven Tommie for the abominable way she’d behaved early in their relationship. Her selfish, malicious campaign to sabotage their romance was something she would always regret. She knew their willingness to forgive and forget was more than she deserved.
“I didn’t mean to call during bath time,” she said apologetically. “Do you want me to call back later, after you’ve put Marcos to bed?”
“No, that’s okay. Sebastien’s got it covered. He’s reading him a bedtime story. Marcos will be out like a light in five minutes. Anyway, I’m glad you called.”
“You are?”
Hearing the wary note in her sister’s voice, Frankie laughed. “Of course. You know I’m always glad to hear from you. Mom and Dad are going to be jealous.”
Tommie frowned. “Frankie—”
“I know, I know. No lectures this time, I promise.” She paused. “But you could call them every once—”
“Frankie,” Tommie warned.
“All right, all right. I’d better back off before you stop calling me, too.”
“You said it, not me,” Tommie grumbled, popping the cork on her bottle. She poured the wine, watching as the chilled ruby liquid splashed into the glass.
Contrary to what her sister had said, Tommie hadn’t stopped calling their parents. She spoke to them on a regular basis, although, admittedly, they usually initiated the contact. It wasn’t that Tommie didn’t love her parents; she just didn’t have that much in common with them. Unlike Frankie, Tommie didn’t share the same interests as their father, a renowned archaeologist who’d been known to spend hours discussing the cultural evolution of ancient civilizations with his elder daughter. And since Tommie didn’t have a child, her mother couldn’t dispense advice on her favorite topics, which nowadays included ways to tackle potty training, finicky eating habits, and temper tantrums.
“As I was saying,” Frankie said, breaking into Tommie’s grim musings, “I’m glad you called because I need your advice. I’m giving a big presentation tomorrow, and I can’t decide which outfit to wear. I’ve narrowed it down to two pantsuits and a skirt suit.”
“What’s the presentation for?” Tommie asked, settling down at the breakfast counter with her glass of wine. Before Frankie could open her mouth, she added dryly, “In layman’s terms, please.”
Her sister chuckled. A tenured entomology professor at a private university in San Antonio, Frankie had a tendency to lapse into scientific jargon that often went way over Tommie’s head.
“My department is seeking a federal grant for a research study on arthropod-borne viruses,” Frankie explained. “Tomorrow we’re hosting a symposium that will be attended by lots of important people from the National Institutes of Health, the Smithsonian, the National Science Foundation, as well as a number of leading entomologists from around the world. I was asked to make the university’s case for funding.”
“Wow! That’s great, Frankie,” Tommie enthused. “Congratulations. What a huge honor.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve got a lot riding on my shoulders, and I really want to make a good impression.”
“You