“Good afternoon. Am I interrupting?” Detective Pagonis asked, like he cared. His expression said he most certainly did not.
“No.” Darcy blushed. Really? Was she supposed to be miserable forever? He’d probably say she should be miserable at least until the funeral. Which, okay, he might have a point there.
“What can I do for you, detective?” Darcy snapped her shoulders back, and her businesswoman mask was firmly in place.
“I’ve been speaking with some of your staff, and I wanted to talk about that fight you had with your husband on Saturday night.”
“Didn’t we talk about that?” Did Kennedy say that? Out loud?
“Yes, but we were cut short and I’d like to revisit it.” His almost-sneer disappeared when he turned to Darcy. “You looked much better after your shower.”
“Thank you so much for letting me clean up the other day. That was a nightmare.” Darcy coiled her blondish hair between her fingers and laid it over her shoulder. “Red was never my color.” She attempted a laugh, but anybody with half a heart could tell it was way too soon.
Beneath the detective’s hard exterior, a glimmer of sympathy showed through. Maybe the man was actually human. Kennedy never would have guessed.
“The other night.” Darcy sighed. “Chuck and I had our problems with cheating over the years.”
“Is that why you were fighting?”
Darcy shook her head. “Not really. Well—sort of.” She wrapped her arms around herself. The office wasn’t cold, but Darcy chafed at her silk shirt like she was out in a snowstorm in Chicago. “A few years ago, we decided to have an open relationship. He couldn’t seem to keep his, um, member to himself, and I couldn’t break up our home.”
“It’s a nice home.” His tone wasn’t really judgmental, but Kennedy caught a whiff of…something. Like he was thinking about real estate values. And Nevada being a community property state.
Darcy didn’t seem to pick up on it. She attempted another smile. “My kids mean everything to me. I couldn’t do that to them. But Chuck? He changed.”
“How so?”
“He met someone.”
“So it got heated and you killed him.” Pagonis might be fishing, but there was pity in the squint of his eyes.
Darcy just shrugged. “No, I met someone else, too.”
“Then why the argument?”
A spark ignited in Darcy’s eyes. “Have you ever won anything, Detective?”
He blinked. “Um, I won first place in diving.”
“I’ve never won anything. Ever.”
Apparently the wet T-shirt contests in college didn’t count. Not that Kennedy blamed her. No one ever wanted to admit that their only claim to fame was that they had great tits.
Darcy took a deep breath. “Saturday night was my night. I had worked for months with Glowing Hope to feed and house the people in the tunnels. It was long nights and hot days, but I met so many wonderful men and women. We helped so many people. It felt so good.”
Darcy’s eyes lined with tears. “The Las Vegas Philanthropic Excellence award is given to one person a year, and they chose me. I just wanted my husband to be proud. Do you know how many awards my husband has?”
Pagonis glanced at the wall of gold and silver, everything from MVP to Good Citizen awards. All in Chuck’s name.
Darcy stared at the shrine. “This is just a drop in the bucket. We have boxes of this stuff back at the house. And every award he won, I stood by his side— the proud wife clapping for his achievements. This award was my one chance. Someone finally noticed me for being more than Chuck Perrault’s wife. And he couldn’t be bothered to show up. Do you know how that made me feel?”
Pagonis didn’t say anything. Didn’t move, just watched Darcy.
“Do you?” She wasn’t going to let this go. Darcy didn’t lose her shit very often—and definitely not in front of strangers.
Pagonis shook his head. Given his widened eyes and tucked chin, he looked overall terrorized. He didn’t seem to like dealing with a woman on the verge of a breakdown. It almost made it bearable to watch her best friend crumble... until a tear slid down Darcy’s cheek.
No. If Kennedy could shield her from all of this bullshit, she would. Kennedy wrapped her arm around Darcy’s shoulder, and Darcy snuggled into her.
Darcy swiped at her eyes. “It was supposed to be my night. All he had to do was show up. He couldn’t even do that.” Darcy leaned into Kennedy. “Kennedy flew thousands of miles to be here.”
Seventeen hundred, to be exact. Not that Kennedy was about to correct Darcy when she was having a moment.
“Chuck couldn’t pull his dick out of his girlfriend for one hour to celebrate what I’d done. I got angry and yelled. Who wouldn’t? Then he got an attitude and said he had bigger problems, and that the world didn’t revolve around me.”
Kennedy latched onto the one word. “What kind of problems?”
“He never said. I don’t know if it was club business or his girlfriend. All I know is that I wasn’t important enough for him to take time away from whatever was going on.”
“What’s his girlfriend’s name?”
Darcy pulled away from Kennedy. “I didn’t want to know. It’s one thing to know your husband is screwing someone else, it’s a whole other thing to have to look at her. But I think it’s his old high school girlfriend, Miranda Scott.”
“The accountant?” Pagonis asked, which was the same question Kennedy had. Except Kennedy’s version would have included a few swear words. “Why do you think it’s Miranda?”
“She always glares at me like we’re in middle school.”
Kennedy said, “When I talked to her, I got the impression she wasn’t with him.” What had Miranda said? Too much hurt. The look in Miranda’s eyes said she’d been telling the truth.
“Why?” Darcy glared at Kennedy—middle school drama, anyone?
Kennedy shrugged. “Miranda said she wasn’t with him.”
“She’s a liar,” Darcy spat.
“Maybe, but I don’t think she’s with him.” Kennedy tried on a tiny smirk. “But I can vouch for her being a bitch.”
Darcy’s annoyance faded as she attempted a smile.
Pagonis cleared his throat. “One more thing.” He produced a plastic bag holding a piece of fabric from his pocket. “Does this look familiar? We found this at the crime scene.”
The bag crinkled as Darcy took it and turned it over. “It doesn’t look like anything special, but it’s hard to see the color with all the...” She gestured at the bag, and Kennedy mentally finished blood.
Bobby appeared in the doorway, and knocked. “Mrs. Perrault.” His eyes saucered at the bag in Darcy’s hands.
“Bobby, is everything okay?” Darcy asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He gulped, turning an interesting shade of pale. Kennedy could understand. Blood wasn’t her favorite thing either. It needed to stay in the body where it belonged. “You wanted Belinda to call you when Coach Brighton was available. Belinda is dealing with a food vendor issue, so she told me to tell you Coach is ready to see you.”
Darcy glanced at Pagonis, who said, “I think I have everything I need. Please keep me posted if you find out the name of the girlfriend.” He took back the evidence bag, turned, and Bobby stepped to the side to let him through.
Once he was gone, Darcy said, “Can you tell Coach I’ll be down in ten minutes?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bobby disappeared, leaving Kennedy and Darcy alone.
“Shit.” Darcy flopped back on the couch. “I don’t want to have this conversation. It’s not going to go over well.”
“Do you need help?” Well, not help. “Support?”
“Thank you, but I need to handle my team.” Darcy stood up and tucked in her shirt, tugged her pencil skirt back into place. She took a deep breath. “I should at least look my best when I tell the coach that the only reason we were winning is going to be out for the rest of the season.”
“This is your first season,” Kenney pointed out. “I’m sure they know there will be growing pains.”
Darcy laughed without humor. “In theory, yes. In their heads, the fans know we need time, but in their hearts they want a winning team. And this first season is when we attract those fans. They’re going to chase me out of the building with torches and pitchforks.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No. But I’m the messenger.” Darcy gathered the medical folder from her desk.
“You got this.”
Darcy nodded as she strode out of her office. Hopefully, Kennedy wouldn’t need to have the car ready for a quick getaway.