“I don’t think he had any idea, Collin.”

I swallow a sip of wine, glance out the darkening window. Life can be cruel, as the cliché goes. Sometimes people do know. My brother Jimmy, along with our brother Danny, was my closest playmate growing up. Jimmy died of leukemia when he was eleven. And even as young as he was, he knew it was a death sentence back then. His last Christmas, he gave us each a gift, something of his to remember him by. I still have the Dick Tracy comic book he gave me. I try to stifle a sigh.

Collin raises his palms. “It’s just so eerie.” He often asks me about my work, but this is the first time since he and André moved into the building that he’s had any contact with anyone I was investigating. He draws a deep breath. “She seemed like a nice woman. She told me to put the stuff in the trunk so her husband wouldn’t see the cake. She wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you talk to him at all?”

“No. He was just sitting in the car.”

“She say anything other than the usual, ‘Gee, nice job on the cake, how much do I owe you?’ ”

“No.” He shakes his head. Then his gaze catches mine. “Will I have to go down to the police station and give a statement?”

I smile and sip my wine. “I don’t think so, hon. But I’ll let you know.”

CHAPTER 7

Molly

THE SUN HAS SET, USHERING IN A DREARY WINTER EVENING. CORRINE’S apartment is bursting with noise, my parents in the living room with the TV turned up to accommodate Mom’s encroaching hearing loss. Corrine on her phone, pacing the hall, taking care of all the concerned friends and relatives. I should be glad my phone is with the cops. I can’t deal with Aunt Ellen or Cousin Shirley and the rest right now.

Corrine swings open the front door, expecting the delivery man. She’d ordered Chinese since it was getting on to dinnertime and my parents expect to be fed between five-thirty and six o’clock, like at home, so they can take their medicine. Nothing stops their routine. But it’s Kim and Laken and their husbands. They wrap me in their arms, and we cry together. I clear my throat and lead them into the living room.

Cal and Josh sit side by side on the sofa, holding mugs of coffee that Corrine has passed around. They hang their heads, stunned, not knowing what to do, while my mother yammers on, intent on discussing every possible scenario, as though she’s working out a math word problem. If the murderer arrived at midnight and the victim . . . The evening news blares on TV, and I’m anxious to get away. I don’t want to see Jay on the news. I shudder and catch Kim’s and Laken’s gaze, tip my head, and we head down the hall to the guest room.