“Rather astute observation,” he drawled.

Kim flushed red, her eyes turning sad. “Not an observation,” she mumbled. Licking her lips, she looked down at the table, scratching at the surface with a nonexistent nail. “Darci told me that. Every once in a while, when I worked at Becka’s place, we’d go out for lunch. I tried to get her to go grab a bite with me, once, after I started working for Peggy and Tricia. That’s when she told me that.”

“How did you feel about that?” he asked. Was there something here?

“Kind of down,” she admitted. “Darci is…well, she’s Darci.” She flashed Kellan a smile, her nose wrinkling. “You know her. She’s…”

“She’s Darci,” Kellan finished, chuckling, nodding. “Yeah, I know her. She’s Darci, all right.”

Kim nodded, rubbing at a small nick in the table. “I was pretty hurt at first. But I wasn’t really surprised. Darci’s got a way of looking at things-black and white.” She swallowed, and when she spoke, her voice was softer, a near whisper. “Beth and Carrie did some kind of underhanded things to Becka.”

“If it was underhanded, why did you go with them?”

“Carrie. She…she went. Carrie is how I got my job with Becka in the first place. When she told me, I guess I felt I had to,” Kim whispered.

“Did you have any reason to be mad at Carrie? Or Beth?”

Kim sighed. “I don’t know. Carrie wasn’t the nicest of people, I know that. But she got me my job, helped me get the apartment after I got divorced,” she said, frowning. “But she could be kind of mean.”

Hell…Kim wasn’t stupid, Kellan thought, leaning back and sighing. If she had killed any of these people, she would be protecting herself. Not leaving herself wide open like this.

“I’d like to do a formal interview, Kim. Just procedure,” he said, studying what few notes he had made in his notepad. “Is that okay with you?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you think is best, Sheriff,” she said quietly.

Damn.

Helluva lot of blood, Kellan thought, surveying the blood pattern. It had sprayed from Bryce’s neck in a geyser before the man had reached up, trying to staunch the blood flow. No defensive wounds…didn’t see it coming?

He’d died pretty quickly.

An empty whiskey bottle lay on the floor, splattered with dried blood. How much had he drunk before she cut him?

He paced into the bedroom, and studied the rumpled blankets. The air was stale. Couldn’t recognize any particular scent beyond that of death. Using his pen, he tried to edge back the sheets a little. Stains…maybe recent. The coroner would be able to tell him if Bryce had had sexual intercourse before he died.

Was this the he who had been referred to in the note?

Maybe.

Bryce had liked to watch Darci. Kellan knew that because he liked to watch Darci and tended to notice when other guys were doing the same. But Darci wouldn’t go for Bryce, Kellan suspected. Not her type. She’d cut him to shreds with her tongue, especially knowing Bryce’s penchant for chauvinistic remarks.

This might be the he, he thought, nodding slowly. Made sense. Darci was something Bryce had wanted. Would make a woman jealous. But why hadn’t the woman killed Darci?

And if it was the same killer…why kill Beth? Carrie?

Those were people who had caused Darci problems. Killing them, then Bryce, just didn’t make any sense. Bryce hadn’t really caused Darci problems. He wasn’t worth her time, Kellan suspected.

So why had he been worth the killer’s?

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered, shaking his head.

The formal interview with Kim hadn’t yielded anything.

Kim was a lonely, fairly simple woman without a lot of friends. No, she didn’t know if Bryce was seriously seeing anybody. Yes, she knew a lot of people who could be mad at Bryce, but Bryce had been pretty much a bastard. He’d pissed off almost everybody he met at some point in time. Yes, she was at home Friday night, all night, alone. No, she didn’t have a boyfriend.

Kim didn’t have the spine to do any of this. Wouldn’t have the spine to sneak into Darci’s home, try to scare her…hell, Kellan doubted she had the brain.

Or the fire. Although the murders had been quick, there was something…heated about them. Kellan couldn’t get past the thought that whoever had done this had some deep hatred inside of her.

Kim didn’t seem to have that kind of passion.

Somebody with heat inside them…he ticked through the people in his head whom he knew were acquainted with all the victims. Well, Darci had heat, but he knew she hadn’t done it.

The murders had left her sick.

Plus, he also believed what she had said… I’m too lazy…hatred requires energy.

Yes, it did. A lot of energy.

Tricia? Hell, that woman was an icicle. She didn’t have heat inside of her. Hatred was heat.

Maybe Peggy…but he dismissed that idea before it even formed. She was a listless, lifeless being, the only heat he’d ever seen from her was in the paintings and sketches she sold.

Della.

He couldn’t think of a reason for her to kill Bryce, but maybe if he looked… There was certainly reason for Della to be angry with Carrie, if Della had finally figured out how badly Carrie was using her, how Carrie had lied. Somebody unbalanced would have a hard time dealing with anger in a logical manner.

Was Della the type to fly over the edge with her rage?

Possibly. She had certainly lit into Darci, from what he had heard, when she thought Darci was screwing Max. And he’d seen signs of her temper, knew she could sometimes react…irrationally.

Maybe it was time to talk to Della a little bit.

“Where was I?” she repeated, staring at him with flat, dark eyes. Della Bennett ran a hand through her dark, curly hair and lifted a cigarette to her mouth, puffing twice before blowing out a stream of smoke through her nostrils. “Here. In bed, with Max,” she said, shrugging. “Why, you think I killed Bryce? That worm?”

“I didn’t say anything of the sort, Della,” Kellan said, tapping his pen against his thigh.

“Mmm. Maybe not, but you’re trying to pin down my whereabouts for the night he was killed. Can’t think of any other reason why you might be asking,” she drawled. “Max is at work, but you’re welcome to check with him.”

“Oh, I will,” Kellan said.

She shrugged. Couldn’t care less…he read the body language, the look in her eyes, and even though he finished running through his questions, he added everything up to one simple fact. She couldn’t care less about Bryce.

She wasn’t his killer.

His killer had cared, maybe obsessively so.

“What about the day Carrie died?” he asked.

Her lips curled up in a wry smile. “Max can tell you about that, too. I was busy ripping him a new asshole for daring to mess with another woman,” she said, tapping her cigarette against the ashtray. “He told me I was crazy and he didn’t know what in the hell I was talking about.” An odd look passed through her eyes and she added softly, “He was telling the truth. I didn’t admit that to myself until just a few days ago. He wasn’t messing around on me, not with Darci, not with anybody.”

“So you know Carrie was lying? Mad about that?”

“Of course, she wasn’t lying.” Della frowned at him. “Hell, I don’t know who started the rumor. Carrie was just telling me what she thought was going on. I don’t know where she came up with the story. Can’t ask her, either,” she said sadly.

“You don’t think Carrie made it up, to cause trouble with you and Darci?”

“Hell, what’s the point in that?” Della asked.

Kellan shrugged. “Darci admired you. A lot. Liked you,” he said, watching as she flinched at his words. Losing that seemed to bother her some. “That’s changed now. Hurt you a little…but I think you hurt Darci a lot. And that’s what Carrie was after.”