Imani hovered over the sink, wiping remnants of tomato sauce off Layla’s plate. She’d whipped up spaghetti for Tonya’s daughter, even though Vivienne and Jay had willingly eaten the curried chicken that Philip had prepared as a late-lunch, after-school snack before heading to the restaurant. Imani had witnessed Layla’s nose wrinkle as she’d picked at the meat in its yellow soup of sauce and told her not to worry if she didn’t like it.

“Your mother left you food,” she’d said, putting on a pot of water to boil. In truth, Tonya hadn’t stocked her side of the pantry with pasta. The only items Tonya had purchased aside from her precious PB&J sandwiches were canned soups, a few sad vegetables, and some frozen meals that looked about as healthy and appetizing as congealed beef stew.

Imani would never let a child go hungry in her house. But the extra effort to make Layla a homecooked meal had been fueled, in part, by her own guilt over the conversation with the girl’s mother. She still thought Tonya was lying about Layla’s parentage and her relationship with Nate. Imani wanted her gone. But she’d begun to doubt that Tonya could have had anything to do with Nate’s murder.

Anger and fear were emotional tempests, Imani knew, destroying carefully constructed higher functions like the abilities to reason and restrain. She’d nearly let her lesser feelings get the better of her. Nearly allowed anger to transmogrify her mind into an animal brain that only knew power and control, that had been inches away from telling her body to pull a knife on a young woman who’d somehow maintained her composure despite being accused of murder.

Imani put the dish into the washing machine and then got to work on the pasta pot. As she squeezed soap into the bottom, she couldn’t help but wonder if Tonya was in Philip’s kitchen doing something similar—scrubbing cookware while scrutinizing their conversation. Wondering what had been said solely to win a debate point. What had possessed deeper meaning?

According to Tonya, Nate had invested in Philip’s restaurant. Imani doubted the woman had simply made that up. Along with what Tonya had said about Philip’s father, there had to be a grain of truth to her claim, likely coming from Philip himself. Either Philip had confessed something about Nate’s involvement or Tonya had seen Nate at Coffre and figured out that his interest had to extend beyond grabbing a good whiskey and slider.