Cuff Me(45)

Or in complicated cases like this one, how to narrow down their suspects from all of Hollywood to a viable list.

Jill had spent the last ten days glued to her computer, most of those with Vincent hovering over her shoulder, which hadn’t been annoying at all.

“The list is almost done,” she said, stalling.

He glanced over. “You’re not telling me something.”

Jill turned to look out the window, wondering if now was a good time to give him the news, since he was preoccupied with driving, or if it would make him swerve off the road in irritation.

“You know, I don’t think you realize how lucky we are that Holly Adams lives so close to New York,” she said, deciding to ease into it.

“Close? We’ve been in the car for two hours, and we’re not even halfway there. Fucking rush hour.”

Here we go.

“She’s a lot closer than the rest of the suspects.”

He was silent. “Explain.”

“Lenora Birch was an actress, Vin. A Hollywood actress.”

More silence. “Tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” he said. “Tell me we’re not—”

“Going to California?”

He groaned. “No. No f*cking way. I don’t care how many enemies she has in Beverly Hills, she didn’t die there. The crime was committed in New York.”

“I’m aware of that, thanks. But based on what I’ve learned, if you’re a big name in Hollywood, you’re either in LA, or you’re in New York. There’s a lot of crossover. And four of the names I keep coming across on the Lenora Birch enemy list?”

“Don’t tell me. Do not tell me what I think you’re going to tell me.”

“They were in Manhattan at the time of her murder. But they live in California.”

Vincent swore softly. “What the hell is wrong with these old folks, all jetting around across the country all willy-nilly?”

“Wait, and you think they’re the old folks? Are you kidding me with the willy-nilly?”

“Nonna says it,” he grumbled. “And California? Really?”

Jill smiled. “You’re going to look so great with a tan.”

She reached out to playfully poke his cheek and he batted her hand away. “Why don’t we just fly them out here?”

“Yeah, the department’s really gonna go for that. Flying out four suspects from LAX to JFK, then paying for their transportation, then hotels…”

“Well, they’re not going to go for flying us out there either.”

“Maybe not. But if we chipped in on flights, I’m guessing they’d spot the hotel room.”

“Why the hell would we do that?” he asked.

She stared at him. “Waiting for it…”

“Fuck,” he muttered the second it clicked. “You’re thinking we can see Marco.”

“Come on. You know you miss him.”

Jill knew she was right. She could see it in his stillness.

Jill didn’t know Vin’s other brother as well as she did Luc and Anthony. By the time she and Vin had gotten really close, and she’d been all but welcomed into the family, he’d already moved.

But she remembered him being a good sort—just like the rest of the Morettis.

Handsome as sin, too. Again, just like the rest of the Morettis.

“When?” he grunted.

“I was thinking next week. Enough time for us to get a plan together, but I don’t think we can wait much longer. The captain swore at me for at least an hour yesterday about how our asses were on the line if we didn’t give him an update he could, and I quote, “f*cking do something f*cking with.”

“I hate California.”

“Of course you do. All that sunshine,” she said sweetly.

Vin flexed his fingers on the steering wheel and then tilted his neck from side to side as though trying to work out a kink, although whether it was in his neck or his attitude, she wasn’t sure.

“We really have to go?” he asked.

“No. But I think we should.”

“Damn,” he breathed softly.

Relieved to have dropped the bomb with relatively little fallout, Jill turned her attention to the world that was whizzing by at oh, twenty miles an hour. Vin hadn’t been joking about traffic being a total bitch.

And it would be even worse in LA. Weren’t they supposed to have the worst traffic, like, ever? And crappy air quality, and…

Oh, who was she kidding?

Jill couldn’t wait to go to California, even if it was for work.

With her mother living in Florida, most of her “sunny getaways” involved the Atlantic Ocean over the Pacific. She’d been to California… once. Her parents had taken her to Yellowstone as a kid.

But she barely remembered it, and Yosemite, while lovely, wasn’t exactly the quintessential California described by the Beach Boys, or Katy Perry.

But more than the destination itself was the chance to get away. A chance to get out of her routine, to get some distance from wedding planning and the looming changes in her future.

A chance to… think.

She didn’t know what she needed to think about. Just knew that she needed to.

An hour later, California was the last thing on her mind, because she was too busy trying to stifle her laughter.