I held the door for an approaching couple, then entered after them, echoing their sigh of relief as the air-conditioning enveloped us. Then I had to bite back a snort of annoyance. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Damn near every woman in the place had blond hair. And was slender. And was dressed to the nines.

I continued in, suddenly feeling much less confidence in the “niceness” of my suit. I could feel assessing gazes, and I was glad that at least I’d worn my badge. Maybe these taxpayers would now be inclined to vote for new taxes out of pity, since the city’s detectives were obviously so underpaid that they had to buy their clothing off the rack. The horror.

I fixed a pleasant and subdued smile onto my face, dutifully signed the guest log, then found an out-of-the-way space near the back where I could people-watch. I managed to pick out Davis Sharp’s widow fairly easily, aided by the fact that I’d downloaded her driver’s license photo before coming to the funeral. Elena Sharp was a strikingly lovely woman, with almond-shaped eyes, light-olive-toned skin, and dark-brown hair highlighted with auburn that fell in a skillfully layered cut down her back. In fact, she was damn near the only woman in the church who wasn’t a blonde.

And she’s a suspect.

Crawford had been less than thrilled when I finally touched base with him to inform him that Councilman Sharp’s death had been no accident. “What a pain in the ass,” he’d grumbled. “Last thing we needed was a homicide of someone rich and connected.”

I knew what he meant. There would be a ridiculous amount of pressure to find suspects, get confessions, and close the case quickly—preferably by the end of the day.

Elena Sharp had left for Mandeville the day before her husband’s death, but that didn’t rule her out as a suspect. And, yes, she had a semblance of an alibi—the testimony of a security guard at her complex who stated that her car had been there the entire night. But she could have easily used a different vehicle, and it wasn’t that long a drive back to Beaulac.

I’d called Ms. Sharp on Monday and asked her to come in for an interview. While she was quite cordial with me, she also made it clear that, if I wanted to talk to her, I would need to come to Mandeville, since she had no plans to remain in Beaulac once the funeral was over. I knew that I could put pressure on her to come in, yet there was always the chance that she would “lawyer up” if I did. I didn’t have enough probable cause to get a warrant, but I also didn’t have any problem making the hour-plus drive to Mandeville.

So for now I merely watched and waited.

“Lousy week, huh?”

I looked over at the speaker. He seemed vaguely familiar—a fairly good-looking man in his forties or so, with a Hispanic cast to his features. He was dressed in an appropriately dark suit, but it didn’t look to be anywhere near the outrageous quality of those worn by some of the other men.

“I beg your pardon?” I said.

“A lot of deaths in the past week,” he explained. “Seems that way, at least.” He sighed and shook his head. “First the Roth couple and now Davis. I guess bad things really do happen in threes.”

“Perhaps so,” I answered noncommittally. I was far more used to bad things happening in sweeping tsunamis of dozens, or at least it seemed that way to me. “Did you know Brian and Carol Roth?”

“Yes, I did. I’m Adam Aquilo. I work with Brian’s father. I’m Judge Roth’s law clerk.” He extended his hand and I shook it politely.

“I’m Kara Gillian,” I replied. “I think I’ve seen you at the courthouse before.”

He nodded. “I recognized you. Of course, it helps that you’re dressed like a cop. Made it easy to place why you looked familiar.”

I glanced down at my suit and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I don’t quite fit in with the fashion parade.”

He gave a low laugh. “Why do you think I staked out a spot against the wall too? My suits come from JCPenney.”

“Oh, law clerks make enough to shop at the expensive stores?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I’m rolling in it.”

“So you were friends with the Sharps?”

“I know Elena.… Well, I knew Davis as well, I suppose, through his restaurant, but I’m really here more as Judge Roth’s representative. The social and political scenes tend to run together, you know.”

I gave a nod of understanding. I doubted that anyone expected Judge Roth to be in attendance—not when Brian’s funeral was set for the next day.

I glanced toward the front of the church. Elena Sharp stood by her husband’s casket, graciously accepting the sympathy and polite embraces of mourners as they filed by. “She’s a very beautiful woman,” I remarked. “Davis was a lucky man.”

Adam pursed his lips. “Just between you and me, she was the lucky one. She was trailer trash before he married her.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?” This was good. No need for interrogations when people were more than willing to gossip.

“Really. That’s why everyone was so baffled when they found out she’d left him. And apparently she filed for divorce the same day.”

That was news to me. “Well, she probably still gets a decent settlement, right?”

He shrugged. “I suppose, but the money was only part of it. She loved being Mrs. Davis Sharp—society wife.” He gave a soft snort of what might have been derision. “She loved all the trappings—the parties, the events. Loved being seen and noticed. Like her car. Davis bought the two of them matching red Mercedes convertibles as a wedding present. She wanted hers to be bright yellow, so everyone would know it was her when she drove it. But they don’t come in yellow, and Davis—thank God—refused to let her have it painted.” He shook his head and straightened. “Well, I’d best go do my duty. It was nice talking to you.”

“And you too,” I replied with a smile. And thanks for the gossip, I added silently.

I didn’t stay much longer. There was no reason for me to pay my respects to the widow and plenty of reason not to, since she was a suspect.

A low rumble of thunder greeted me as I exited the church. By the time I pulled out of the parking lot, it was a full downpour and I had to flick the wipers to high to be able to see anything.

My phone pinged to tell me I had a text message, but since I was already driving white-knuckled, I waited until I was stopped at a red light to look at it.

It was from Ryan.

This weather sucks ass. Why the fuck am I moving here? Surfer Boy says Hi.

I grinned and quickly thumbed in a reply.

Wimp. This is just light drizzle. Ur moving here cuz we are only ones who can tolerate you. Everyone else hates you. Sad but true. Say hi to surfer boy.

The light turned just as my phone pinged again. The next three lights were green, so I finally gave up and pulled into a parking lot to read his reply.

I knew it. Those fuckers. Explains why no one comes to my Star Trek themed xmas parties. But you still love me forever and ever?

I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot as I read it, even though I knew he was joking around.

Only out of pity. And only when you bring me donuts.

I replied. I waited, and half a minute later it pinged.

Donut love. I’m cool with that. If you’re not busy, come by our office. Zack is pining for you.

“What a dork,” I muttered as I pulled back onto the road. But I was smiling.