“Nice people do bad things, Lila.”
He didn’t have to tell me. Over the past two years, I’d encountered enough violence to last me a lifetime. “I just can’t believe it. There’s got to be another explanation.”
He stood and reached out his hand. I took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. “There might be,” he said, pulling me close, his eyes staring intensely into mine. “But you’re not going to look for one. I came too close to losing you last time, remember?”
I nodded, pressing a little closer and enjoying the warmth of his arms around me, even as my mind raced with doubt. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about Lynn. As her agent, didn’t I owe her more? Maybe I should have warned her first. Given her a chance to get an attorney. I leaned in closer, my cheek sinking into the soft cotton blend of his dress shirt, inhaling his familiar soap scent, wishing more than anything that we could leave and go somewhere alone. I needed him to hold me, help me shake the horrible image of discovering the body.
“Ahem . . . excuse me.”
We quickly pushed apart at the sound of Jude clearing his throat. He was standing in the doorway, looking directly at Sean. “Bentley sent me to ask you how long it was going to take your people to get the body out of the kitchen. We’ve got an event scheduled.”
Sean cursed under his breath. “Tell Bentley—”
“It’s okay, Sean.” I squeezed his arm. “I’ll talk to her, okay? Are you done questioning me?”
He nodded. “For now.”
“Good.” I took a deep breath, willing myself back to business mode. “Since the murder occurred in the kitchen at the end of the hallway, would you mind having your guys use the emergency exit back there? That way, we could partition off the front part of this wing for our events. It won’t take us long to relocate a few things. And no one would get in the way of your investigation. Promise.”
His lips pressed into a thin line as he contemplated my request.
Jude was still hovering in the doorway. I waved him on. “I’ll be right out.”
“Fine. But you’d better hurry. We’re in the Potter’s Room. Bentley’s stressed out. She’s called a DAC meeting and wants all the agents there, pronto.” DAC was Bentley’s abbreviation for Damage Assessment and Control. She must have felt desperate if she had already resorted to such measures.
“Tell her I’ll be right there.” Then, turning back to Sean, I leaned in close again and gave him a pleading look. “Please, Sean. If we lose the use of this wing this week, we’ll have to cancel several events. This is a huge deal for our agency.” I wrapped my arms around his midsection and gazed up into his eyes.
Finally his expression softened. He let out a long sigh and agreed, with a lot of provisions, of course. “Where is Lynn now?” he asked.
My heart dropped. How was Lynn going to take the news that her ex-husband was dead? And to be questioned as a suspect in his death? What had I done to poor Lynn? Suddenly overwhelmed with regret, I asked, “Can I be with you when you break the news to her? It was her ex-husband, after all. And I’m the only friend she really has here this week.”
Another sigh. This one ringing with impatience. “All right. Tell me where to find her. I’ll bring her back here and wait until you return before I break the news to her. In the meantime, go to your D . . . whatever meeting. And tell that boss of yours that she’s not to get in the way of my investigation.”
I described Lynn to him and explained where her booth was. Hopefully she’d be there now. An unwanted thought occurred to me: If Lynn was the killer—but I really didn’t think she was—we might never find her again.
*
“THE MURDER MAGNET’S here,” Zach said as soon as I entered the Potter’s Room.
“Enough of that!” Bentley demanded, slapping her palm against the table. “Lila, take a seat over there.” She pointed toward the chair between Flora and Franklin. Franklin stood and held it out for me as I approached, shooting me a pitiful look. And the second I sat down, Flora reached over and patted my back.
“You poor thing,” she said, her expression mirroring Franklin’s. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, with finding the body and all.”
“You didn’t say how he was murdered,” Zach said, tapping his pencil excitedly against the tabletop. “Stabbed with a butcher knife? Strangled with apron strings? Oh, I know . . .” His voice was growing more excited with each revelation. “Poisoned! Someone poisoned him. He was in the kitchen, right? Of course, the last time a murder happened in a kitchen around here”—he raised his hands and mimicked an explosion—“Kaboom!”
“Would you be quiet,” Jude said. “Can’t you see how upsetting this is to Lila?”