Cuff Me(47)

“You didn’t think to mention this last time?” he asked Holly.

Holly sat down beside him once more, crossing her legs and blinking innocently up at him. “Well, you’ll pardon me if I’m unaccustomed to being questioned in a murder investigation. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.”

Jill scanned the contents of the letter, taking in the seemingly official logo, the cookie-cutter phrasing of the letter that indicated it was a form letter, which in this case, made it all the more believable.

The pages that followed sealed the deal.

Jill looked up. “You called the cable company the night Lenora Birch was murdered.”

“The Wi-Fi wasn’t working,” Holly said, almost proudly. She pronounced “Wi-Fi” just a bit too precisely, the way someone unfamiliar with the technology would be.

Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose. “And all calls are recorded.”

“Yup,” Holly said, sounding quite pleased with herself. “I wrote them a letter asking if they could provide a transcript of the conversation, and that’s what you see there.”

Jill glanced down again at the transcript. A quick scan showed that it was exactly what one would expect from a tech-savvy customer service rep and a seventy-something woman who “couldn’t get to The Google.” Lots of, “I understand your frustration, ma’am,” countered with, “back in my day…”

And Holly couldn’t know it, as time of death wasn’t common knowledge, but the time stamp meant that Holly Adams was listening to an explanation of the difference between modem and router at the precise moment Lenora Birch had been pushed over that balcony.

“You two don’t seem happy,” Holly said, looking between Vincent and Jill.

“Of course we are,” Jill said with an automatic, not-entirely-genuine smile. “Just because we like to solve crimes doesn’t mean we enjoy finding people guilty.”

Vincent’s expression said otherwise.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Holly said, fiddling with the oversized ruby around her neck—just a tad overdressed for entertaining homicide detectives on a random Wednesday. “I meant that you aren’t happy. Soul happy.”

Vincent glanced at Jill and mouthed soul happy? with a lift of his eyebrow.

Jill kept her smile firmly in place. “I assure you, everything is just fine with us. Just the usual exhaustion from trying to solve a case.”

Holly pursed her lips. “No. That’s not it.”

“Excuse me?” Jill said, her smile slipping. She knew better to engage with a woman who’d proven she loved nothing more than to play games, but without knowing it, Holly Adams had hit on a nerve.

Or hell. Knowing Holly, she probably had known it.

“How’s the wedding planning coming along, Detective Henley?” Holly’s voice was sweet as sugar.

Jill kept hers just as sweet, even as her body went on high alert. “So great, thanks for asking.”

“Mm. Your young man, he’s handsome?”

“Very.”

“More handsome than this young man?” Holly asked with a speculative look at Vincent.

Jill nearly laughed at the obviousness of Holly’s ploy. She leaned forward. “Ms. Adams, the time to be matchmaker is before one of the people has a ring on her finger.”

Holly mimicked Jill’s posture, leaning forward with dancing, mischievous eyes. “You didn’t answer the question, Detective.”

Jill’s eyes flicked to Vin, even as she told herself not to humor the interfering older woman.

He was watching her with barely concealed amusement. Not exactly helping her out, but then, she supposed that was fair for the way she’d smirked at him earlier when Holly employed her best flirting techniques.

Then he lifted an eyebrow.

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

She shifted her attention back to Holly, her voice even more sugary than before. “I’m sure plenty of women would find Detective Moretti perfectly handsome.” Jill let her shoulders lift in a little shrug. “But he’s more like a brother to me. I really can’t see him like that.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Holly said, sounding skeptical as she shifted her attention to Vin. “And you, Detective. Do you think of your partner like a sister?”

Jill looked at Vin, a little smile on her lips as she waited for whatever his one-up would be on her jab.

He stared at her for what seemed like an uncomfortably long time.

“No,” he said finally. “No, I’ve never thought of Detective Henley as a sister.”

Jill’s smile dropped. Not so much because of the words. But the look on his face. The heat in his eyes.

And irrationally, she felt angry. At him.

“Oh really?” Holly said, her eyes wide, her hand laying against her heart in a forced, oh-my-goodness-me manner.

Jill stuffed the printed transcript back into the envelope not as gently as she should have, and held it up. “Can we take this?” she asked.

“Of course,” Holly murmured, her attention still locked on Vincent’s steely profile. “Detective Moretti, how did you feel upon learning your partner was getting married?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Jill muttered as she stood. “Vin, let’s head out.”