Page 122 of Gilt

Lies are so easy to tell, but sins are so hard to forgive. It’s odd how even something as simple as a coat of paint can be deceptive until viewed in the right light. I never knew what I preferred—a pretty lie or a sorry sinner—until now.

They’ve redone the lobby of the West Casino. I suppose if I ran a hotel that had seen a murder and an accident in less than two months, I might try to freshen up the joint, too.

It’s a bit early to check in, but as I get closer to my appointment with May from Cachè—and her secret identity—I get more nervous. I’d planned to ask Josie to come with me tonight. I’d never even gotten the chance to tell her about the plan before our falling out.

Before I reach the check-in counter, Mackey steps into my path. I halt, looking around to see if she’s alone. I don’t spot any other officers, but they are trained to blend in. It’s good to see my tax dollars at work.

So much for flying under the radar.

“Are you here to arrest me?” I ask her directly.

“I’m here to talk to you alone.”

Translation: she wants to speak to me without Jameson or lawyers.

“I have lunch plans,” I lie to her, “so this can’t take too long.”

She glances at the gold watch on her wrist. “Late lunch.”

“Early interrogation,” I counter. “I have until Monday to comply with the subpoena orders.”

“You do,” she confirms. “Let’s grab a seat.”

“Let’s stand.” I’m not about to let her get comfortable.

“Your boyfriend is calling in every favor in town to find out more about the DNA evidence we’ve uncovered.”

I shrug. She wants me to bite, which is something I can do. “I keep telling him to watch less CSI. Next thing you’ll know, he’ll be doing blood spatter analysis.”

“We found a towel in the residence containing seminal residue…”

I do my best not to gag.

“And blood—as well as some tissue.”

“Tissue?” I repeat, hoping she’s talking about Kleenex.

“Preliminary reports suggest it’s hymenal.”

Some things you can’t unhear. “Are you saying that Nathaniel West…”

“Had sexual intercourse with a woman we believe was a virgin at the time.”

“Then there you go,” I tell her. “That clears me because I’m not eligible for a white wedding.”

“Given your intriguing sexual history, it’s possible it could be you.”

“I already told you that I’m not a virgin,” I whisper furiously as a group of Japanese tourists roll past.

“According to your statement, you’ve only had sexual intercourse once. It’s very likely that your hy—”

“Enough theories revolving around my vagina. None of this explains why you think it’s me.” I’m not a lawyer, but there has to be some evidence actually linking me to the crime before they can start stealing my blood.

“That’s why I’m here,” she says. “I’m about to tell you what your boyfriend so desperately wants to know.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Before it’s too late.” It’s not the answer I’m expecting. “Our investigations have discovered some interesting connections between your family and the Wests.”