“Rina, without a doubt, your loyalties lie with your husband. But mine lie with my family. If push should come to shove, I bind with my kin, no matter what. Your husband may ask me questions that I may not answer. That could anger him, frustrate him. Maybe…just maybe, he’ll come to you for personal information about me.”

“I don’t think Peter would do that.”

“Then I’m worrying for nothing. I’m just mentioning it because I don’t want you to feel divided in your loyalties. If it should happen…you have my permission to tell him whatever you feel comfortable with. The last thing I want is to create conflict between the two of you.”

“It won’t happen.”

“Good.”

“Divided loyalties,” she whispered. “I detect a pattern.”

Bram raised his brow. “You said it, Rina Miriam, not I.”

14

Stifling hot from a houseful of packed flesh, yet the men still wore jackets. Decker wiped his brow, reaching a compromise. He’d leave the jacket on, but loosen the tie and undo the top button of his white shirt. Good that he was tall. Standing on the landing steps of the Sparkses’ home, he could see over the human yardage. Even from this vantage point, with so many people, he couldn’t keep a definitive watch over the siblings. Kept scattering from place to place like little black ants. Especially the twins, both of them wearing almost identical black suits and glasses. True, the priest had longer hair and wore a collar. But without putting the two side by side, Decker was easily confused.

The widow, Dolores—known as Dolly to her friends—was holding court in the back of the living room. At present, she was mobbed by well-wishers offering her solace, surrounding her, patting her hand, stroking her shoulder, wiping her wet cheeks. It would have been inopportune for Decker to intrude upon her grief. Yet, he knew he was going to have to question her.

Because her husband was murdered in the back of a fancy restaurant.

Which could mean a paramour.

Which could mean a jealous husband or boyfriend.

Or, dare he say it, even a jealous wife.

Because as yet, Decker still lacked a damn motive.

Some of the guests were eating, popping things into their mouths, or drinking something unnaturally red out of plastic glasses. Obviously, there must be food somewhere. Holding his breath, Decker dove into the pool of humanity. He intended to pay his respects to the widow. But first he’d take a look around.