“Everyone thought the Gruners were a devoted couple, and look what happened. No, I don’t buy this business about Gavin and Isobel being the perfect couple. I think Isobel was having an affair with Dean, and that’s what that fight was all about. He shoved the man his wife was cheating on him with—his own brother—and Dean didn’t survive the argument. Gavin fled, avoiding a painful trial and perhaps even jail time. He changed his appearance and returned to confront his wife. And in a fit of rage, he kills her.”

“If Abe is correct the murderer was wearing stiletto heels.”

“Could be that Gavin is a woman now.”

“Oh, Chase.”

“I’m serious! What better way to hide his real identity than to turn himself into a woman? Nobody would ever suspect him, and he’d get off his second murder in a decade scot-free. The perfect crime.”

It was certainly food for thought. But then Odelia voiced the perfect question:“If Gavin is here, then who is he? If what you’re saying is true, he could be anybody.”

“All we have to do to know for sure is to check the shoe sizes for all the ladies present. It can’t be hard to narrow things down. And when we do, we’ve got him!”

“Or her.”

CHAPTER 24

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The search for a pair of stiletto heels was on, with Chase fervently hoping they would lead us to Isobel’s killer. It was a long shot, to assume that Gavin Droba had returned as a woman intent on revenge, but then that’s what being a detective is all about: sometimes you had to follow the evidence, and sometimes you had to let your imagination run wild, and hope it didn’t lead you astray!

In the meantime the detecting duo doggedly pursued this line of inquiry by interviewing every person in that house. Next on the hot seat was Ona Konpacka, since we were focusing on the female members of the extended household now.

Ona was at the edge of her seat, literally, and seemed fidgety.

“No, I’m not Gavin Droba, detective,” she assured us. “I’ve had operations done to my face, yes, but not because I used to be a different person. I’ve always been Ona, and the only reason I had extensive work done is because some butcher ruined my face when he injected me with some bad fillers.” She glanced down at her hands, and added, softly, “And also my arms and thighs and chest.” Suddenly big droplets of tears rolled from her eyes. “As far as your other question goes: yes, I did cheat my sister out of a career as a model. How did you find out?” But when Chase openedhis mouth to speak, she quickly went on, “Don’t tell me. You talked to Michele. I should stop confiding in people I hardly know. They don’t seem to care about me.” She took a big gulp of breath, then went on, “So yes, I’m a bad person. I stole my sister’s career. I took her dream. In my defense, though, I made the best of things, and once I was launched in this business I discovered how much I liked it. And besides, who’s to say my sister would have been successful? She might have stumbled at the first hurdle. This is not an easy life, detective. Not an easy career. I’ve hadmy highs as well as my lows. But what I haven’t done is murder anyone. So no, I didn’t kill Isobel Droba because she was about to reveal my big secret.” She looked up. “I didn’t do it. You have to believe me.”

A police officer stuck his head in, and shook it in a vigorous no. No suspicious stilettos were found in Ona Konpacka’s room. Unless she had discarded them, of course, which she would if she was the killer and if she was smart, which she was.

“Michele didn’t tell us about your sister and the talent scout, Ona,” said Odelia. She’d taken a seat next to the model on the sofa, and was rubbing her back consolingly. “I can’t tell you who told us, but it wasn’t Michele, all right?”

“Fine,” said Ona between two sniffs. She’d gratefully accepted the tissue paper Odelia had handed her, and was dabbing at her eyes and nose now. “I’ll ruin my skin,” she lamented. “Max told me not to cry.”

“Your boyfriend told you not to cry?”

Ona shrugged.“Everyone knows tears are bad for your skin. Too much salt.”

“Well, I think one good cry won’t hurt you.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Ona, giving Odelia a sideways glance. “You’ve got great skin.”

“Why, thanks,” said Odelia. “I guess if this detective thing doesn’t work out, I could always go for a career as a model.”

Ona laughed through her tears.“Better not. It’s a pretty tough gig. I bet you wouldn’t like it. I’m sure my sister wouldn’t have liked it. So maybe I did her a favor.”

“Maybe you did. What does she do, your sister?”

“She’s a doctor. Brain surgeon. She’s good. Very good.”

“So maybe it’s a good thing that she didn’t become a model, right?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t like that she didn’t have the option. I took that away from her, see? I didn’t give her a choice. She’s a great doctor, sure, but she might have had an amazing career as a model.”

“Why don’t you tell your sister? I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Ona gave her a deer-in-the-headlights look.“Are you going to tell her?”

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