Under Suspicion

I knew better than to answer one of Nina’s rhetorical questions (and yes, I found out the hard, pointy-toothed way), so I knitted my brows and worked up the best indignant/disgusted look I could muster. “I can’t believe that!”

 

 

“Oh,” Nina spat, “it gets better. ‘Thank you for your manuscript submission. However, I didn’t feel compelled enough to keep turning the pages.’”

 

Nina gaped at me, eyes glittering, saliva at the corners of her mouth. “I am going to compel that woman to kiss my cold, dead ass!”

 

I pried the letter from Nina’s hand before she threw herself on the couch in a diva move that would make Streisand envious. “Well, look, Neens. She says that another agent might feel different and she wishes you the best of luck. That’s nice, right?”

 

“Nice? Nice? I practically opened a vein for that woman and she thinks another agent might feel different?”

 

“With all due respect you don’t”—I pointed to my wrist, then thought better of it—“You know what? You’re right. Who is this Lilia Hagen, anyway? What does she know?” I went to tear the offending missive down the middle, but Nina sprang up, eyes wide, cold fingers snatching the letter from mine.

 

“Lilia Hagen is a legend! She’s a genius. If she doesn’t think I have talent, then maybe it’s over for me.” Nina sank to her knees on the high-pile carpet. “Maybe I’m just no good!” I watched my best friend slump over and draw her knees to her chest, cradling her legs and whimpering. ChaCha trotted over and gave her a precursory sniff, then went on to her dog bowl.

 

“Wanna get a bite?”

 

Nina rolled over and blinked up at me, her lips spliting into a smile. “Oh, Soph. You always know the right thing to say. I’ll drive.”

 

It didn’t take us too long to find a restaurant in North Beach that served homemade gnocchi and had a cache of blood donor waiters—mainly because there is only one restaurant in North Beach with homemade gnocchi and blood donor waiters. I noshed my way through the bread basket while Nina scanned the waiters passing by, deciding whom to order. She frowned, pulling on her bottom lip.

 

“I can’t decide what I want,” she groaned as a particularly anemic-looking blond strode by. “Why didn’t you tell me this was going to be so hard?”

 

“Ordering lunch? You usually go for that meaty guy, Toby.”

 

“Not eating lunch! And yes, Toby sounds good. I mean with my career!”

 

“At UDA?”

 

Nina’s eyes rolled back like slot machines. “No! My writing career!”

 

“Oh?” I popped another piece of bread in my mouth. “That.”

 

I learned early on to keep my nose out of Nina’s extracurricular activities—except for the one time she decided she had a real future in toddler beauty pageant coaching. Then I had to bail her out of jail and explain why a grown woman trolling elementary schools for “Auntie Nina’s Perfect Princesses” was a very bad idea.

 

I was pushing around the remaining bites of spaghetti and meatballs, and Nina was polishing off what remained of a bag of Toby, when I put down my fork and took a deep breath. Nina cocked an eyebrow, knitted her hands, and rested her chin.

 

“I heard you coming in awfully early this morning.” She grinned, her fangs tinted a healthy pink. “Anything you want to tell me?”

 

It had been close to dawn when Will and I had returned from Bettina’s hotel. Though I know Nina doesn’t sleep, her door was closed and all the lights were out, so I decided against disturbing her—especially since what I needed to tell her was so disturbing to me.

 

“Alex called.”

 

Nina’s ears perked. “Ooh, I bet he heard about all this time you’re spending with Will. I bet he’s jealous.”

 

“He wanted Will and me to go to a hotel.”

 

“Jealous and kinky!”

 

“Nina, I went to a hotel where Bettina checked in. She wasn’t there. It was a crime scene.”

 

Nina stopped. “What do you mean?”

 

“Bettina ...” I gulped. “Her body wasn’t there. Oh, Nina, it was horrible. There was blood everywhere.”

 

“What happened?”

 

I swung my head, pushing my plate away. “It looked like she had been attacked. It looked like someone pushed her into the ground, and there was blood everywhere. She couldn’t have survived it, Neens. There was no way. The person who attacked her must have come back. He must have come back, and now she’s dead.”

 

Nina looked away; her bottom lashes glistened. “This is real, isn’t it?”

 

I swallowed hard. “It’s real, and it’s not going away.”

 

Nina pressed her keys across the table toward me. “Will you take the car home?”

 

I reached out and squeezed her marble-cold hand. “I can drive you home, Neens.”

 

She gathered her purse and started to scooch out of the booth. “I need to go see Harley right now.”