“Hi, babe.” Jake leaned over and kissed Sam on the mouth. Being married to an ex-cop, he never had to explain why he was late or even apologize for being late.
“Frank hasn’t found any more dead bodies, has he?” Sam scooped out a spoonful of pecan praline ice cream from the bowl, but Jake intercepted her hand and shoved the spoon into his mouth. “There’s lasagna in the fridge. If you don’t want something heavy for dinner, there are some chicken pinwheel thingies mom made.”
“Any quiche leftover from this morning?”
“There’s that, too. And a salad.” Sam flicked off the television set and followed him into the kitchen. The clock on the stove said it was almost nine-thirty.
Jake pulled the quiche from the fridge and set it on the counter. After cutting a piece and sliding it onto a plate, he covered it with wax paper and placed it in the microwave. The refrigerator was well stocked, certainly not like his bachelor days. And Abby was one helluva cook. It was too bad her talents hadn’t rubbed off on her daughter. There were some things Sam was really good at making but other things everyone would just as soon she not step into the kitchen. Once the quiche was heated, he added a tossed salad, squirted Italian dressing over it, then stood at the counter to eat while Sam sat across from him.
“How’s your case going?” Sam licked the spoon, scraped remnants from the bowl and had to refrain from licking it clean. A sickening thought crossed her mind. This was how she acted when she was pregnant with Dillon. She calmly placed the spoon in the bowl and refrained from looking to see if Jake caught the similarity.
He told her about the cigarette butt found under the victim but so far they didn’t have a DNA match. “I still think Collin Revere could be a person of interest but I need to get his DNA somehow. Unfortunately, he is a heavy contributor and close friend of the mayor.”
“Ooooh, I’m loving it already. It will look bad if the mayor tries to influence the department or even throw accusations at Murphy. Although something tells me he is enough of a snake to accuse Murphy of orchestrating a set up. If Revere’s a smoker, anyone could have thrown his cigarette near the victim, someone with an axe to grind.”
“You are already arguing his case for him.” He stabbed the last of his salad, then wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“It’s my crystal ball, sweetheart.”
He grabbed her empty bowl and his plate and placed them in the sink. “Where’s Abby?” After running hot water over the dishes, Jake opened the dishwasher, placed the dishes inside, and closed the door. He ran the dishrag under hot water, washed the island counter, rinsed the dishrag, wrung it out and draped it over the sink. Sam wondered if she should feel guilty that her husband was neater than she was.
“Upstairs talking to Cora on the phone.” Cora Chasing Hawk was Abby’s closest friend back at the Eagle Ridge Reservation. She was also a member of the tribal council and filled Abby in once a week on the latest happenings back home.
“How about the case Captain Robinson gave you? Suicide, wasn’t it?”
“Everything points to it.” Sam had the word on the tip of her tongue and Jake must have read it.
“But?” he prompted.
“I don’t know. She had everything going for her. I don’t know the inner workings of her mind. Maybe her husband didn’t either. It just seems all wrong.”
“Maybe you’re looking too hard.”
“Maybe. Beast did discover Marti received a phone call right before she left her condo. It was from a disposable, lasted all of four seconds.”
“Telemarketer?”
“But do they really use disposables?” Sam thought back to that one word she had heard—destiny. “Anyway, I’m going to go curl up with the latest Mo Hayder mystery and I’m sure you are going to read the paper and wait for your guy O’Reilly to come on.”
“You got it.” Jake gave her another kiss.
Sam watched him leave and pondered grabbing another scoop of ice cream, but stopped herself. Instead she made a cup of hot tea and carried it to the Florida room where she would have some peace and quiet. As she walked through the dining room, she glanced at the photo albums on the table, the one album still open to the picture of Marti in the hospital room beaming as she held her baby girl. It was wrong, it was all wrong, Sam thought. But so far she didn’t know how to prove it.