I pushed Grace up against the wall, behind the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I shushed her with a finger to my lips. How the woman out front had slipped past Barack, I had no idea. Surely he would have recognized her from the Heart of Wilmington. This time, she was wearing a bit more than a towel—a white pantsuit and stiletto heels. But it was her.
The woman’s heels click-clacked on the steps, and the doorbell rang.
Grace and I stood silent, flattened against the wall.
The doorbell rang again.
I looked around for something that I could use as a weapon. No coat rack, no umbrella stand, nothing. I removed one of my sandals. I wasn’t planning to attack the woman—I’d never hit a woman in my life—but I had to be ready if she went on the offensive. She’d broken into the motel room. If she tried breaking into the Donnellys’ home…
The doorbell rang again. She wasn’t giving up.
“See what she wants,” I whispered to Grace.
“I don’t understand—”
“Just open the door. I won’t let anything bad happen.” I raised my sandal with both hands, ready to swing it like a baseball bat.
Grace undid the deadbolt and opened the door a crack. “Can I help you?”
The woman’s voice was low and muffled, and I couldn’t make out a word. Whoever she was, she wasn’t selling Girl Scout cookies. They only sell them January through March.
“Come in,” Grace said, opening the door wide and pinning me against the wall.
The woman stepped inside. I couldn’t see her, but I could smell her. The cloying scent of strawberries and bananas filled the room. I recognized her perfume as one I’d bought for Jill many years back. She never wore it, thank God.
Grace started to close the door, and the woman removed her coat. She turned to look for a coat rack and instead came face to face with me—a man with a raised sandal, prepared to swing away.
She hurled her suit jacket. It caught me right in the face and everything went dark. I dropped my sandal, scrambling to pull off the jacket, but I wasn’t fast enough. The woman started beating me like a piñata. I threw up my hands, shielding my face. Grace was shouting something I couldn’t understand. I pulled away the suit jacket just in time to see the pointed heel of a black stiletto coming at me. It cracked me on the cheekbone. Remarkably, I stood my ground, bracing myself against the wall. One more whack of that heel and I knew I’d be licked for sure.
“You again!” the woman said. She lowered her heel, but didn’t put it back on. Not yet.
Grace stepped between us and handed me a business card. “This is Abbey.”
I read the card. “Abbey Todd. Corporate Risk Investigator, Delmar Investigations. Medical claims, property claims…and life insurance claims.”