One of Us Is Dead(47)

My lips pursed as I looked at Mark, his wispy brown hair, hurt ego, wandering eyes . . . Why was he so concerned with Olivia? I couldn’t blow up at him now because she was clearly hurt. Her eye was red and puffy and most certainly would bruise. Crystal brought a glass of ice and a napkin to her. Dean took the napkin and wrapped it around a handful of ice. He pressed it to her eye and told her to hold it there. She winced.

Jenny finally relaxed. Her muscles were so tight that when she loosened up, she almost fell to the ground. Keisha caught her.

“Are you okay?” Keisha asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just not feeling well.” Jenny’s voice was quiet. Keisha poured a glass of orange juice and handed it to her. She chugged it and then filled it up with champagne, sipping at it before she downed the whole thing.

I felt terrible for Jenny. She wasn’t like the rest of us. We were used to the drama, the dysfunction, the gossip, the deceit. She wasn’t. She wasn’t from here. Crystal wasn’t either, but she had Bryce to help her navigate the complexities of Buckhead. Buckhead wasn’t a place you lived. It was a place you survived.

I helped Mark to his feet. Before leaving, I gave Jenny a hug and told her how sorry I was. Her body was stiff. She wasn’t herself. I gave Keisha a small hug too and whispered in her ear how much I enjoyed our time together.

“I’m sorry too,” Crystal said. She gave Bryce an elbow to the ribs. He looked down at her and straightened up.

“I apologize, Jenny, for my part in all of this as well,” Bryce said in his politician voice, which contained a smidgen of seriousness, a dollop of charm, and a dash of insincerity. “Guys, you got anything to say?” Bryce looked at Dean and Mark. They both apologized. Dean helped Olivia up from the floor and carefully checked her swollen eye. Jenny nodded, acknowledging their apologies, but it seemed she was just going through the motions.

“Why don’t we just chalk this up to boys will be boys?” Bryce said with a laugh. “Come on. We’re all neighbors. We work hard, and I’m sure we’re just a little stressed out. That’s all.” He patted them on the back.

I rolled my eyes. Boys will be boys. How completely disgusting.

“You’re right, Bryce. Sorry about that, Mark. I’ve just been under a lot of pressure at work,” Dean admitted. He held out his hand. Mark eyed it with apprehension.

“It’s my fault too. I shouldn’t have egged you on. It’s all this travel back and forth to Miami that’s getting to me,” Mark explained while reaching out to shake Dean’s extended hand. They shook and brought it in for a half hug with a solid pat on the back.

“That’s the spirit,” Bryce said. “Why don’t we go out for some beers?”

They nodded. “Are you okay with that?” Dean asked Olivia. He gave her another kiss on the side of her head.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Olivia said dismissively.

“I can take you home,” Crystal offered, and Olivia nodded.

“Perfect. It’s all settled then,” Bryce said with a well-done attitude. He clapped his hands together. “By the way, I wanted to extend an invite to all of you. Crystal and I are having a housewarming party in two weeks. We put on a new addition and completely renovated and redesigned the entire place. It was important to me to ensure Crystal feels my home is her home.” Bryce smiled a crooked smile. He looked over at Shannon and raised his eyebrows in a challenging way.

Shannon folded her arms into her chest. Her eyes shot daggers at Bryce. She opened her mouth for a moment, the words she wanted to say lingering at the tip of her tongue. But she stopped. She closed her mouth tightly and said nothing . . . nothing at all. She didn’t need to say the last word to have the last word.





38

Jenny present


Detective Sanford drops his pencil and leans back in his chair, stretching out his arms as if he were giving the air an invisible hug. He lets out a deep breath, clearly exhausted from this case—most likely, just from hearing how much back-and-forth there was. How they were all on tenterhooks with one another. How it was inevitable that something was going to happen that would change our lives forever. He rubs his eyes and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“You’re telling me after all that—the fighting, both verbal and physical; the lies; the infidelity—the husbands went and grabbed beers, and the wives were just fine with everything that had happened?”

“In a way, yes, but things were never exactly ‘fine.’ It was like when you boil a pot of water—that slow simmer. You can see the bubbles starting to form at the bottom, but they’re not quite there,” I explain.

“Had it always been like a simmer?”

“No.”

“What do you think caused this never-ending tension?” He furrows his brow.

“The new wife, Crystal.”

“Why?” Sanford leans back in his chair again.

“It was the first time a wife had been replaced in this group of women, and I think it made the rest of them question their relationships, their purpose, and who they’d be if they weren’t a wife. It brought fear into the group, and fear makes people crazy.”

I look over at the clock. It’s 2:00 p.m. I’ve been here for six hours, and we haven’t even scratched the surface. When I volunteered to come and speak with the lead detective on the case, I didn’t think it would take this long. As much as I want to help, I’m tired. I yawn so wide my eyes close and tears come out the corners. I rub at them to keep myself awake.