Witt’s voice was low, almost gruff. It started a low frequency humming in Max’s stomach. She let him go on without interruption just for the sheer pleasure of the sensation.
“Pippa knew all about the plan for that Saturday night. Tiffany taunted her with the fact that Miles was going to watch it all, said eventually she was going to take her husband and then everything else in her life, including the salon, which, by the way, Pippa started before she married Miles. She and Nadine decided they’d teach Tiffany a lesson. Jules picked her up in his car. In all the commotion of the riot that followed her little scene in the men’s room, no one noticed Tiffany, the instigator of it all, slipping away.”
She burrowed into the corner of Witt’s car. What a waste. Jules would have been better off taking the bus instead of learning to drive.
Witt went on with his dissertation as if he was reading a typed statement. “After picking Tiffany up, he had sex with her because Pippa told him to.”
“Because Tiffany teased him into it.” She didn’t tell him that she’d come to the conclusion Jules had been the one watching Tiffany getting screwed on the washing machine. She decided that little vision wasn’t pertinent right now. Instead, she did a fast forward on Witt’s story. “Then she liked it too much, and they decided to take the lesson a little farther.”
“Yes, they beat her to death. Which, by both accounts, was the other one’s idea.”
The car had become hot, stuffy. And the scent of his aftershave was doing funny things to her stomach, almost like nervous butterflies. She rolled down her window. “It was Pippa’s idea.”
He looked at her. “You sound so sure.”
His bland, unemotional tone irritated her. She waved a flippant hand. “You watched the video. You know as well as I do.” She didn’t tell him about the voices in her head, first Pippa’s, then Bud’s.
“Afterwards, they used Jules’s car to dump the body.”
She closed her eyes. A touch from Witt would have been nice. A gentle tone. At the very least, he could have dragged her across the bench seat of the car and kissed her. Then she wouldn’t have had to think about ... “Poor Jules.”
“He was, again by both their accounts, upstairs asleep at the time.”
Upstairs asleep, having sweet afterglow dreams of the blow job Tiffany had given him. Totally unknowing.
“Pippa Lamont used him in her videos all the time.” Witt cocked his head, waiting for her reaction.
“She had a sweet little side business selling homemade porn,” she said. Which was why Miles had such a large client base. The majority of those people had probably never even been to the shop.
“And just how did you know that?”
“Nadine. She said something about Pippa using Jules.”
“Family affair. Miles Lamont’s ass is in the wringer for that, whether or not he participated in Tiffany’s video.”
“I think Pippa planned on making more of Tiffany’s kind of film. Ariel was next on her list.”
“Well, she won’t get the chance now. Thanks to you.” Nice words, but no smile lit his eyes. He was still pissed.
“What about Jules? Did Pippa confess about Jules? Nadine said she had nothing to do with Jules getting killed.”
“Pippa denied it, too. And they’re both sticking to their story.”
Her head pounded, and it had nothing to do with the knot on her occipital. “Did she say anything about Bud Traynor?”
Witt glared. His jaw worked. “No. Neither did Nadine.”
She listened a moment to the laughter of children from the playground, watched as they ran to the steps of the slide. “Bud said he’d—”
Witt cut her off, his lips in a flat, tense line. “Leave it alone, Max.”
“But—”
“Maybe you ought to forget Traynor and start worrying about the shitload of trouble you’re in.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“You’re going to have to testify. Again. This is the second murder you’ve gotten involved with, Max, in a little over two weeks. People are going to start asking why. What’s your answer going to be?”
“But they confessed. There won’t be a trial.” She looked at him. “Will there?”
“Depends on whether the D.A. goes for death or not.”
“And what do you think he’ll do?”
Witt snorted. “Worry about yourself, Max. What are you going to say?”
“That I have psychic visions?” Not that her abilities had been doing much of anything for her the last couple of days.
“Not good enough.”
“You’ll vouch for me.”
His eyes narrowed. “What makes you think that?”
“Well ... well,” she sputtered. “What about the fact that a little voice told you I was in trouble last night?”
“What little voice? After I beat the crap out of your bouncer boyfriend in front of your dancing partner, Jake Lloyd spilled everything he knew before I started in on him.”