A High-End Finish(59)

I had to take a deep breath or two before I could blurt out the question. “You don’t honestly think that Mac Sullivan had anything to do with the murders, do you?”

“What? Of course not,” she said, gawking at me like I was the nutball instead of her. “Who in the world would think that . . . ? Oh.” She blew out her cheeks. “Jane. Oh, boy.”

“Yeah. Jane. What’s the deal?”

“Well, see, I was sort of gushing about Mac coming into the store and I told her what he said. I guess I didn’t make it clear that it was a joke.”

“No, you didn’t. She thought it might be a joke, but she was still a little worried.”

“I’m sorry, Shannon.” She hung her head and stared at the ground. “I’d better call and let her know I was only kidding about Mac.”

“I know that would make her feel better.”

“Of course.”

“She’s scared to death that someone’s trying to set me up for the crimes and that they’re coming after me.”

“I’m scared, too,” Lizzie said. “Nothing like this has ever happened here.”

“I know,” I said, and forcefully changed the subject. “So, you and Mac are new best friends, I guess.”

She patted her heart. “OMG, Shannon. Hal and I had the best time with him. He’s wonderful.”

I smiled. “I agree.” I gave her a quick update on Mac renting the garage apartment, and we commiserated over her daughter Marisa’s crush on a new boy at school. Lizzie was sure the crush signaled the beginning of the end of her little girl’s sweet disposition. I hoped she was wrong, but Marisa had just become a teenager, so anything was possible.

After Lizzie went back inside, I walked home in a much better mood. My friends might be a little crazy, but at least they were my kind of crazy.

? ? ?

Later that afternoon, Jane returned to my house. Even though I had a rugged new tenant, she was determined to stay with me until my father came home from his fishing trip. For dinner, we drank more wine and made linguini with grilled sausages, onions, and peppers.

She left again early Friday morning, and ten minutes later, Chief Jensen called to tell me about my bike.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and assured. “The sheriff’s team has finished going over the bike, so you’ll have it back within a few hours.”

“Did they find anything helpful?” I asked.

“A few prints that didn’t match yours. They’ve sent them to IAFIS along with some prints and fibers from Wendell’s car. It’ll be a while before any results come through.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said, then had to ask, “I don’t suppose someone turned in my hammer.”

“Not yet,” he said. “Try not to worry. That’s our job.”

“I’ll try.” I thanked him again and hung up the phone, feeling guilty despite his nice words. I made calls to Carla and Wade to let them know I would swing by their job sites that afternoon to check in and see what was happening. It felt like ages since I’d been on the job.

I took a few minutes to clean up the kitchen and vacuum downstairs before taking a shower and heading out to visit my crews around town. It was a long day and I was tired, but at five o’clock that afternoon, I walked into the Flex-Time gym and greeted the friendly employees at the front desk. As I slid my membership card through their electronic reader, I spotted Penny in the warehouse-sized workout room, running on the treadmill.

Just watching her work out made my muscles groan a little, but I was determined to get myself back into shape again.

After stowing my gear and my purse in a locker, I went out to the floor just as she was cooling down.

“Glad you made it,” she said, breathless.

“I need a few minutes to warm up on the treadmill and then I’ll catch up with you.”

“Perfect.” She flipped her towel around her neck and walked off, so I took over her treadmill.

As I got up to speed, I glanced around the large workout room. Mirrors lined all the walls so it was easy to see everyone else from where I stood on the treadmill. There was a good crowd this afternoon, but not so many that there were traffic jams at any of the machines. I thought about taking a leisurely swim after my workout, but then realized I’d forgotten my bathing suit. Maybe I’d do that next time to decompress after working out.

Two women walked into the room and I almost groaned out loud. They were Jennifer Bailey and Whitney Reid. It was odd to realize that even though Whitney had been married to Tommy Gallagher for more than twelve years now, I still called her by her maiden name. In my mind, she would always be the high school girl who made my life hell.

Jennifer saw me first and quickly whispered in Whitney’s ear. The two of them seemed to have been frozen in that gossipy high school mode. And maybe I had, too, because my first concern was whether my outfit was cute enough. I checked the mirror in front of me and decided I looked good in a sleeveless lime green top with a jazzy pair of black-and-lime cropped tights.

Unfortunately, Jennifer was wearing the exact same outfit. And wasn’t that just my luck? Maybe it was my imagination, but I was pretty sure I was rocking the lime green look, while the same color made Jennifer’s skin appear sallow.

Of course, Whitney noticed our clothes right away. “Oh, look. Twins.”