“You know, Will, it’s nice to be invited to this real New York experience.” Sunny gestured toward the glaring lights and the loud, echoing noise in the restaurant. “But if you’re going to take me out and then whine about Jane going around with some other guy, you’ve got another think coming. This isn’t high school. We’re adults now—supposedly.”
She looked him in the face. He swallowed hard, showing a little embarrassment and a lot of shame.
“It’s not that,” he began and made a jerky gesture with his hand. “Okay. It probably is a little of that. I’m worried that they’re getting a little . . . distracted from what they need to be doing.”
“You mean, they’re pissing Trumbull off instead of persuading him to look for other suspects?” Sunny said.
Will nodded.
“Well, he certainly did his best to dispose of Christine Venables and her family.” She told him about her interrogation and the information that the detectives had dropped.
“I thought they might have been playing me, making up a story to get Jane rattled,” she went on. “But it looks as if the information was legit. I talked to Christine’s alibi.” She gave him a quick recap of her undercover haircut.
Will frowned, toying with his fork. Sunny thought he was going to lecture her about butting into Trumbull’s case. Instead, he said, “What they told you could have been only half true. Phillips should definitely check out the husband.”
Sunny nodded. “I expect he’s doing that.”
“As for the daughter, well, that’s what we call an unreliable alibi,” Will went on slowly. “The girl is out of work, depending on her mom for a place to live, and you say she has a medical condition covered by her parents’ insurance?”
“That’s right,” Sunny said.
“So she’s really dependent. Kristi may have given her mother an alibi because she doesn’t want to upset the family applecart. Or if she’s aware of Christine’s relationship with Martin Rigsdale, maybe she’s trying to avoid a scandal.”
“So you’re saying the alibi isn’t as strong as it sounds?”
“Yeah.” Will speared another slice of corned beef as if he were hunting it rather than eating it. “That’s the kind of question a district attorney would consider, trying to decide if he had a strong enough case to bring to court.”
“From Trumbull’s point of view, it looks as if Jane is guilty until she proves herself innocent.”
Will nodded in agreement. “Like it or not, she’s a strong suspect. Most murders happen over love or money. Martin humiliated Jane in one and was pestering her about the other. It’s a two-fer. No wonder Trumbull likes it.”
He dipped his corned beef in a dollop of mustard, brought it to his mouth, and chewed, looking unhappy as he swallowed. “That’s why Phillips really has to be on his game.”
“No distractions.” Sunny had some of her brisket. All of a sudden, it seemed pretty tasteless.
Somehow, they struggled through the rest of the meal on small talk. As a dating experience, Sunny would not list it among her top ten.
As they headed out for Will’s pickup, he turned to her. “I’m sorry if I said anything stupid. I like you, Sunny, and I enjoy being with you. I don’t want our time together to be a drag.”
“You had things on your mind, and so did I,” she said. “It’s not a big deal—if we don’t let it be.”
He smiled. “You’ve got a good way of putting things.”
They got into the pickup, and Sunny’s phone rang. It was Jane, her voice very shaky. “Could you come over—now? I’ve got a bit of a situation here.”
“On the way,” Sunny replied. Jane cut the connection before Sunny could ask any questions.
She turned to Will, who had his cop face on.
“That was Jane,” Sunny said. “I hate to ask this, but can you give me a lift to her place?”
“She’s in trouble?” Will asked.
“I don’t know,” Sunny had to admit.
“Well, we’ll both find out.” Will started up the truck and headed for Jane’s house.
Jane answered the door wearing one of her veterinarian’s smocks. “Oh, thank God, Sunny.”
She broke off when she realized Will was standing there, too. “Why—” Jane began.
“We were out catching a bite to eat,” Sunny said, “And we came right over when your call came through.”
“If I’d known that, I’d never have bothered you.” Jane took Sunny by the arm, lowering her voice. “I don’t know how we’ll do it with Will around, but I need you to talk some sense into Tobe. He wants to go to the police.”
“He’s here?” Sunny said.
Jane sighed and led her to the kitchen. Will trailed behind, looking a bit wary.
Tobe Phillips sat at the kitchen counter, holding a bag of frozen corn to his face. He took it away, wincing, and shifted to a new section. In the process, he revealed an ominous swelling below his left eye and a cut on his cheek. Jane quickly put down a tray with a pair of medical gloves, a tube of antiseptic ointment, and a small bandage. She moved the frost-covered bag away from Tobe’s face and examined his eye.
“What happened?” Will asked.
“Don’t tell him,” Jane begged.
“Of course I’m going to tell him,” Tobe replied. “I still have to report this to the police.”
