Vin’s eyes narrowed just slightly, his hero worship of James Killroy taking a sharp hit just then.
Vincent might not believe in true love and happily-ever-after, but he absolutely believed in fidelity. It was part of the reason he steered clear of traditional relationships. If he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t be tempted by another woman, he didn’t pretend to commit.
“How’d the relationship end?” Vincent asked James.
“Honestly? I barely remember. There was no fight. No big blowup. My career started to pick up, and hers had never slowed down. Our paths crossed less and less. Our schedules rarely overlapped. I’m not even sure I remember having the conversation that things were over. They just… were.”
“How’d you feel about that?” Jill asked.
James smiled grimly. “Not murderous, if that’s what you’re getting at. Seriously, I understand you two are just doing your job—I do. Hell, I’ve played a homicide detective once or twice…”
Yeah, because that’s the same thing, Vin thought.
“… but honestly, check with the hotel. I was back in my room by ten. Ordered a movie—one of those boring, award-winning types. Was asleep by midnight.”
“We’ll check the cameras,” Vin said, setting his iced tea on the table, sensing that they were done here. Admittedly the man didn’t seem particularly torn up about the violent death of an old lover, but there was no spark of any kind when James spoke of Lenora.
Not passion, not anger… barely even interest.
“Mr. Killroy,” Jill said, scooting forward in her chair as they all prepared to stand. “We’re currently operating under the assumption that whoever wanted Lenora dead was perhaps motivated by a professional slight, rather than a personal one.”
The actor nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. The only time the woman got fired up was if she thought something would negatively impact her career.”
Vincent and Jill exchanged a look. It was almost comical how often that phrase was being uttered.
“Does anyone come to mind? Anyone who who might have had some sort of professional vendetta toward Lenora.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Sure, tons. Hollywood’s a competitive, sometimes vicious place. But everything I could think of… they’re old. Decades old. Lenora’s screen time has been limited to minor, grandmotherly roles in the past couple years, and anything before that…”
Again with the shoulder lift. “Who has the energy to hold on to anger for that long?”
Who indeed?
If they knew that, perhaps they’d have their killer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Six hours later, three suspects down, and they weren’t any closer to knowing… anything.
“It’s like Lenora Birch was a robot,” Jill said, dunking a tortilla chip into an enormous bowl of guacamole. “How many times can we hear that the woman rarely showed emotion?”
Vincent said nothing as he took another sip of his tequila.
They were done for the day. Way done. He supposed that they could have—should have—gone back to the airport hotel that the NYPD had booked for them. Gone over their case notes again.
Strictly speaking, debriefing over tequila and guacamole while watching the sun set over the Pacific Ocean probably wasn’t exactly what the bosses had in mind.
But fuck, they’d earned this. Him, because Vincent somehow managed to get himself on the plane despite the fact that every fiber of his being had rebelled.
Jill, because she’d held his hand the whole damn way, and God bless her, hadn’t once laughed at him.
It’s not like he wanted to be afraid of flying.
That’s what his brothers—the only ones who knew of his “condition”—thought. That he just needed to suck it up and get over it.
Did they really think he hadn’t tried?
He’d read the books. Tried all the mental tricks.
Nothing helped. He just really, really fucking hated flying. He was always reading that it was the “lack of control” that made people afraid of flying, but that never felt quite right.
For him it was more the realization that if he was going to be in the tiny statistical sliver that died in a plane crash—it was going to be one shitty-ass, terrifying death.
But admittedly this flight had been… well, still awful.
But better too.
Better because of her.
He glanced over to where Jill was licking salt off the rim of her margarita. His eyes latched on to that pink tongue for a heartbeat too long before he forced them back to the gorgeous sunset in front of them.
She pushed at his shoulder. “See. Told ya California wasn’t so bad.”
He helped himself to a chip. “Okay, so it has a couple things working in its favor.”
“Speaking of which, bummer Marc couldn’t get out of his shift tonight, but I’m excited to see him tomorrow!”
Vin nodded. So was he. He only wished that Mandy had been conveniently unavailable, but alas, the four of them were doing dinner the following evening. It had been too damn long since he’d seen his brother.
Marc made the plane flight worth it.