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“Yup,” Stella pops the last p of the word. “Ian and Cleo. Can you believe it? Two of our married coworkers, caught in their indiscretion.” She tuts in disapproval and something new occurs to me.
“What did you do with the picture, Stella?” I ask.
There’s silence on the other end of the phone.
“Stella,” I prompt.
More silence.
“You kept it—didn’t you?” I say.
“Fine,” she cries. “Yes, I kept it! So sue me! I just thought, hmm maybe this could come in handy some day.”
“As in a blackmail type of handy,” Jack says dryly.
“Okay, look,” Stella replies in a lets-all-be-reasonable tone, “clearly I am making a horrible first impression, Jack. But I swear, it’s not like I had specific plans to blackmail the man, just if a need presented itself I felt better having that picture in my back pocket. Besides, not to speak ill of the dead, but Ian Wharfman wasn’t exactly a nice guy. I didn’t kill him, though,” she adds hastily, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” Jack says. No duh. We already know who killed him. But the police don’t. Suddenly I’m nervous for my friend.
She may be a bit brash and yes, she has a gossip problem, but she’s also supportive and a good listener. And honestly, work has been a lot more fun since she started at the company last summer. Anyway, regardless of either her flaws or strengths, she doesn’t deserve to go to prison for a murder I committed.
Nobody does.
“Did you tell the police any of this?” Jack asks her. “The stuff about the photo, I mean.”
“Of course not.” Stella lets out an uneasy laugh. “I’m not looking to become a suspect. I probably shouldn’t have even told you two. I have a way of oversharing.”
“No, it’s good you told us. Tell me more about this Cleo person. Is she at work today?” he asks.
“Oh she’s here alright.” I can practically hear Stella’s answering eye roll–it’s her go to action when it comes to Cleo. “Took over Ian’s office the second his death was announced.”
“She’s the one I was competing with for that promotion,” I tell Jack. His expression turns pensive.
“Do you think she knew about Frank investigating Ian?” Jack asks Stella. “Or about you having that incriminating photo.”
“No. If she did I’m assuming she’d be a little nicer to me,” Stella snorts. “I go to the same gym as her and her husband, so it would be very easy for me to pass on the information about his wife’s affair.”
Goodness. Humanity is so depraved.
And I realize that I have no higher ground to stand on with that comment seeing as I’m a murderer– but let’s all take a moment and remember that I killed in self-defense.
“Oh speak of the devil,” Stella mutters. “I have to go. I’m out on the balcony eating my lunch, and I can still hear Cleo shouting at everyone. She better not get that man’s job.” She hangs up before we can respond.
Jack and I stand there, both staring at the phone.
“What are you thinking right now?” I ask.
Jack sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “That this whole who-moved-the-body case of ours just got a little bit more complicated.”
Chapter 19
Jack
WE FINISH UP AT Chipotle (where I also safely dispose of the knitting needle in a wad of napkins), then head back to my house. I get that Lucy, Mel, and Emily want to help–and it was useful to have them get us into the Wharfman’s neighborhood without any connection to my visit there last night–but I want to pay a visit to this Cleo woman, and I don’t want three extra participants in that conversation. Now that they all seem to have agreed not to tell their husbands and fiance´ for the time being, I don’t need to keep them close by.
I know that deal has an expiration date, though, which means that now more than ever it’s important for us to figure out who moved Ian’s body so that we can get ahead of my friends on this case. This whole situation is turning into an unsolvable maze. Every time I think we’re getting somewhere a new wall pops up and we have to try a different route. At this point I don’t even know what the ending we’re working toward is.
At the beginning of the day I would’ve said we needed to do the following: get married, keep her identity as the murder just between us, and do whatever we could to get the case labeled as closed (including, but not limited to figuring out who moved the body). But, of course, the second part of my plan went to crap as soon as the women figured out the truth, and now I’m floundering. All I know is that we still have to figure out who moved the body. Whoever it was, they are the biggest threat to Nora staying out of prison.
