I wondered if I ought to tell her that I’d muffed my first real attempt at investigating her case. I definitely didn’t plan to confess that I’d assumed her identity. She’d be mortified, if only because of my wardrobe.

“Hello, Greer,” I said patiently.

“Hello, Mojo,” Greer answered, with a laugh in her voice. At least she didn’t sound crazy, or depressed. That cheered me up a little.

Presently, she went on. “Alex won’t be home until tomorrow night,” she said. “I just talked to him on the phone. He sent me two dozen pink roses and said I ought to expect a package at any minute.”

Oh, shit, I thought. She was going to cancel the job and ask for her money back. “So everything is all sweetness and light?” I asked carefully.

She laughed. “Hell, no,” she said. “The bastard is just trying to cover his tracks. Have you got anything on him yet?”

I felt guilty as hell because I was glad Greer wasn’t going to pull my first case out from under me. What kind of sick attitude was that? I was cheering for the wrong side—I should have been hoping Alex would turn out to be innocent.

But I wasn’t.

What did that mean? What did it say about me, as a person?

Was I a heartless, money-grubbing bitch?

Or did I simply hope that, if Greer lost Alex Pennington, she might find herself again?

“Not yet,” I said. “I paid a call on one of the suspects today. Gina Marchand. She runs a gallery in Old Town.”

“Do you think they’re doing it?”

I swallowed, glanced uncomfortably at Jolie, who looked pensive as she listened shamelessly to my end of the conversation. “If I had to make a bet, I’d say they’ve done a tango or two.”

Greer let out an audible breath. “Is she pretty?”

“You put her in the shade,” I said, and I meant it. Okay, I might have been a little prejudiced, but Greer was a beauty by anybody’s standards. Except maybe her cheating rat of a husband’s.

“Does she have potential?”

“As what?”

“The mother of a second family.” Greer sounded wistful. Alex’s first family lived on alimony and child support, somewhere in Scottsdale. The wife was active in local politics, and I’d run into her once, at Fashion Square Mall. The original Penningtons weren’t hurting financially, but there are a lot of other ways to hurt.