I exited the room and entered the smaller bedroom. There, on the bed, was a duffel bag, money clearly visible as the bag was open.
“Ah, there it is,” I whispered. The money. I didn’t need Bryce to be here, just the beautiful prize that lay before me. That chickenshit was probably too afraid to come out here himself and sent some servant to drop it off.
I stepped forward to grab the bag, and then it was gone. Everything was gone.
77
Jenny present
“Tell me about Bryce Madison then, Jenny,” Detective Sanford says. He stares me down. Waiting for the big reveal I’d built it up to be. Just as I am about to speak, a police officer bursts into the room.
“Sir! It’s Bryce Madison,” he says, out of breath. Detective Sanford rises quickly and excuses himself, closing the door behind him.
What did Bryce do now? We were finally getting somewhere. I stand from my seat and pace the room. Did he do something to one of the girls? If something had happened, this is the detective’s fault. His questions were all over the place. He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand Buckhead.
My patience wears thin. I go and knock on the door, then I bang on it.
Sanford opens the door. “What are you doing?”
“What did Bryce do?” I ask, completely ignoring his question.
“He didn’t do anything. He’s dead.”
My mouth falls open. I take a deep breath. A sense of relief rushes through me. It’s over. It’s finally over. I slowly walk back to my chair and take a seat. My shoulders slump, and I just stare off at nothing.
Detective Sanford surveys me, looking me up and down. He rubs his chin again. His brow knits together. He still doesn’t get it.
“What were you going to tell me about Bryce? Why did you ask me what he had done?” He takes a seat across from me, pulling his chair in as close to the table as possible.
“I’ll just show you instead.” I bring out my phone, open a video, and hand it to him.
“Push Play.”
He does.
When the video finishes, Detective Sanford scratches the top of his head. His eyes widen.
“That was Dean Petrov in the video?”
I’m not sure if it’s a question, but I nod anyway.
“And the voice off-screen?” he asks, but I think he already knows.
“Bryce Madison,” I say.
“Why didn’t you show me this earlier?”
“I didn’t know if I could trust you. Bryce had police on his payroll. But now that he’s dead . . . it doesn’t matter.” I fold my arms to my chest. “Who killed him?”
“Dean Petrov. He walked right into his office and shot him in the head. He was sitting across from Bryce’s body with the weapon in hand when the police arrived.” Detective Sanford stands from his chair. “He’s in custody.”
“I’m not surprised,” I say.
“Bryce killed Olivia, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Shit. This is bigger than I thought it was. I was convinced one of those housewives did it.” He paces the room, tapping his fingertips against his chin, trying to put all the pieces together. “How did Olivia get wrapped up in all of this?”
“I think she blackmailed the wrong person.”
“Bryce?”
I nod.
78
Karen
present
It has been three weeks since Bryce was killed and Dean was arrested. Olivia’s murder was solved, and Buckhead was finally getting back to normal—well, a new normal. Dressed in Lululemon yoga pants and a matching tank, I walk into Glow. Mary leads me to the back, where I find Shannon holding a glass of Chardonnay, with her feet dipped in a pedicure tub. Not much has changed. Crystal is sitting beside her in the same fashion. Well, actually, a lot has changed. The two of them look like mother and daughter. Shannon would kill me for thinking that. I walk over to Keisha and kiss her while she’s sweeping up her station.
“Get a room,” Shannon says playfully. Keisha and I smirk.
“Got time for a wax?” I whisper into her ear. She kisses me again with a laugh. I take a seat at her station, and she wraps a cape around me.
“How’s Buckhead treating you?” Jenny asks. I look over, realizing she’s cutting the hair of a woman I don’t recognize. She’s a brunette with high cheekbones and a pointy nose.
“Pretty well. I was just so glad to get on your client list.”
Jenny nods.
“Hi, I’m Karen. I don’t think we’ve met,” I say to her while Keisha combs out my hair.
She looks over at me. “I’m Laura. I just moved to Buckhead with my husband.” She gives a small wave of her hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I say with a pleased smile.
“Did you all know the woman who was murdered?” Laura looks at me, then Keisha, and then in the mirror at Crystal and Shannon.
“Well enough.” Shannon takes a sip of her wine.
“What about you? She was your client, wasn’t she?” Laura glances at Jenny in the mirror.
79
Jenny
present
“I knew her a little too well,” I finally answer. I don’t know what to say when people ask about Olivia. It isn’t something I like to talk about.
Laura nods and gives me a sad look. “I’m really sorry for your loss,” she says with complete sincerity.
I thank her.
Shannon and Crystal chat about their plans for lunch and yoga. Shannon is back to being chairwoman, and Crystal won the vice-chairwoman position. They have become close. Trauma will do that to people.
Keisha and Karen are openly dating, and they’re happy, truly happy. Karen filed for divorce two weeks prior, and she even introduced Keisha to her son, Riley.
As for me, I’ve stayed true to my promise to Keisha and I’m no longer working more than fifty hours a week. I’m even dating someone—Detective Sanford. It seems all that time spent in the interrogation room did some good after all. He called me last week, and at first, I thought it was for more questioning, like they had uncovered some new evidence. I was relieved to learn his call was solely to ask me out on a date. He said he was waiting for the case to be closed so it wouldn’t seem too unprofessional.
“It’s such a shame. I saw a picture of her. She was beautiful,” Laura comments.
“On the outside. Yes, she was,” Shannon says pointedly and takes another sip of her Chardonnay. I look back at Shannon, giving her a disapproving look. Crystal lets out an awkward cough.
I refocus my attention on Laura’s hair, careful to add just the right number of layers to flatter her heart-shaped face.
“How could someone do that to another person?” Laura asks.
I shrug my shoulders and shake my head, my body language acting in complete opposition to my own thoughts. Easily.
80
Crystal
the night of the housewarming party
My phone buzzed. I quickly opened the message. It was from Olivia.
Fine. I’ll be there in ten. No funny business.
My phone buzzed again. It was from Bryce.
Meet me at my work office in twenty minutes.
I quickly texted Bryce back.
Your wish is my command. No funny business.
I stowed my phone back in my spandex pants and glanced around the party. Bryce came running down the stairs with a duffel bag in tow.
“Party’s down here,” I said.
Bryce had a look of determination on his face. “I have to run an errand. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Now? But the party . . .” I pretended to pout.
“I know, I know. It won’t take long.” He kissed me on the forehead.
“You’re going to miss the fireworks show.”
“I won’t. I promise. I have to go.” He walked out the front door, closing it behind him.
As soon as he was out the door, I quickly ran up the stairs to check on Shannon. I banged on the door, but she didn’t answer right away.
“Shannon,” I yelled. “Open the door! Are you okay?”
For a moment, I thought Bryce had found her. But just as my eyes became wet, the handle turned and the door opened. There stood Shannon with a Glock 19.
“You got it?” I asked.
She held it up as if she were one of Charlie’s Angels. “Yes, ma’am. All the texts went through?”
I nodded. “Yes. Everything is documented just in case.”