Identical Death Page 4

  Cici glanced at her friends.

  “Evan seemed weird at the funeral,” Cici ventured.

  “Probably because he’s an attorney,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes. She dipped her curly hair into the water, where it darkened and lengthened out. “I never understood what Anna Carmen saw in him.”

  Cici hadn’t either, but that wasn’t the point. Her sister loved Evan.

  “Were they . . . okay?” she asked, glancing around.

  The three other women shrugged.

  “Seemed to be,” Carina said. She frowned. “Now that you mention it, it’s weird that Evan wasn’t with her at the pilgrimage.”

  “Doesn’t he have that new job?” Lucy asked. “In, like, Phoenix or LA or something. I know Anna Carmen worried about leaving her students.”

  “Scottsdale,” Cici said. “Yeah, that was bothering her.” So was something else. Something bigger. But Cici didn’t know what. Problems with Evan? No, whatever bothered Aci was bigger even than that. Of all the doubts and strangeness buffeting her, the only thing Cici was sure of was that her sister was hiding something from her. Something bad. Something big.

  Whoring, Evan had said.

  Cici shook her head. She couldn’t believe that. Not of her sister.

  “He’d just signed on to a firm there. I don’t know which one.”

  “Who cares?” Carina murmured. She stretched out her leg, pointing her toes. “I love how this water feels on my skin. Shoot, we should do this more often.”

  Cici tried to smile but the effort fell flat.

  Carina’s eyes widened. “Um. That was insensitive, wasn’t it?”

  Cici shook her head. “I like spending time with you, Carina.” Cici looked around at the other two faces. “You, too.”

  “We miss you, Cee.” Carina said. “You sure you don’t want to come home? I know you and Anna Carmen spoke about that.”

  Cici shrugged. “My job’s in Boston. My boyfriend.” She pretended she didn’t see the looks her friends exchanged. Yes, Lyndon not showing up at the funeral hurt her, but there was nothing she could do about that now.

  “I’ll call Megan so she and Jaycee can pop over tomorrow,” Carina said. “You know they’re going to hire an executive reverend for that new church. It’s your denomination even.” Carina’s voice took on a wheedling tone. “How perfect is that.”

  “I like my job,” Cici replied.

  “But this is for an executive reverend position, Cee,” Lucy said. “You’d be in charge, and you know we’d all be there in those seats every Sunday to cheer you on.”

  Carina rolled her eyes. “Those seats are called pews and you don’t cheer in church.”

  Lucy waved it away. “Whatever. I’d come to your church, Cee, and my dad’s Jewish.”

  Carina leaned in. “Lucy does have a point. You’d get to choose the topic around the liturgy, write sermons you want to preach, help people from your community.”

  “Think about how you’re feeling right now,” Lucy said, settling right next to Cici on the stone bench. “You’ll be perfect to help others through these tough times.”

  Cici hauled herself from the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. “Speaking of Gidget, I’m sure she wants a walk.”

  Thankfully, the other women took the hint and dropped the subject.

  Cici made it through a second stilted dinner with her father—this time at Anna Carmen’s house because Cici couldn’t let all the food people brought over go to waste.

  “When do you return to Boston?” Frank asked.

  “Lyndon wants me back for a meeting on Wednesday,” Cici said on a sigh. She pushed her food around the plate, too heartsore to bother eating any of it.

  “I’ll get your flight booked. KaraLynn and I discussed the matter, and I’ll stay here through the end of next week to ensure all the necessary details are handled. I mean, from a legal standpoint. J. R. is going to let me work out of the office there.”

  “Okay,” Cici said.

  “Right. Well, I’ll let you know those flight details.” Frank rose and picked up his plate. He set it next to the sink and turned back toward her. “Why don’t you get some rest, Cecilia? This . . .” He cleared his throat. “This has been a lot for you.”

  Cici rose from her chair and hugged him. Not because it was natural, but because he was her father and he was trying to comfort her. Which was more than she could say for Lyndon. And Evan . . . Cici pressed her cheek tighter against her father’s shoulder, trying to push away thoughts that she and Aci both chose men like their father—emotionally stunted or something.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  He patted her back a little too hard and stepped away. “Well. I’ll just . . . I have some things to take care of.”

  He couldn’t meet her eyes. Even now, in this moment of shared grief, the situation fell straight into deep awkwardness.

  “Sure. No problem. I’m going to hang out with Gidget.”

  Cici did, too. They went for another walk and then Cici sat in the backyard, brushing Gidget’s long, silky coat. She told the dog how much she missed Anna Carmen, and Cici swore the dog understood because her big brown eyes turned even more soulful than usual. Maybe Anna Carmen was right—their father’s fastidiousness kept the girls from enjoying some of life’s greatest joys. Like the love of a good dog.

  The next morning, Cici woke with a heavy heart. She only had two more days in Santa Fe, thanks to her father following through and purchasing a return ticket for her. Cici felt that Gidget and she had bonded during this trip, and if her landlord would allow her to bring her back to Boston, she would. Unfortunately, Cici’s landlord was not excited about a ninety-pound shedding machine.

  Cici walked through Gidget’s routine with Carina’s friend’s daughter, Jaycee. She’d grown into a lovely high school sophomore, and Cici enjoyed spending the hour together. Handing over the key to Anna Carmen’s place made leaving more real, causing Cici to reconsider Sam’s question about sticking around.

  She dialed his number, and he answered, “Cee.”

  “Hey, Sam. You heard anything?”

  Sam growled into the phone. “Not one thing. I even managed to get a copy of the file so far and had some of the people here on the task force look it over. The details are scant.”

  “So, that means no leads?”

  “Not yet,” Sam grumbled. “But I mainly wanted the group’s opinion on Evan.”

  “Oh.” Cici hesitated. “Evan?”

  “In case I . . .” Sam sighed. He cursed. “What if I misread the man, Cee? He was so nasty at the funeral. What if I totally missed something and let your sister walk into a dangerous situation?”

  “Do you think that’s true?” Cici asked, her breath catching as her stomach seemed to collapse in on itself.

  “I don’t know. Not according to the task force here.”

  “Then, what’s the problem?”

  “I just . . . I don’t like Evan’s attitude.”

  “Did Detective Martins talk to Evan?”

  “Yeah. Said it was a dead end. But . . . shit. I want to talk to Evan myself.”

  “Oh.” Cici hated the idea of her sister’s private life being examined by multiple people. She hated more the idea of her sister’s murderer running around free.

  “How’s Denver?”

  “Same as always,” Sam said. “How are you holding up?”

  Missing you. Missing Aci. Wishing I wasn’t flying back to the disaster waiting for me in Boston.

  “Fine. Well, I know you’re working. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Cee?” Sam said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I told you, I’m always available for you.”

  He clicked off before she could reply.

  After lunch, a group of leaders from the UCC denomination in town, led by Carina Pattison, showed up at the door.

  “They really want you to take over the executive reverend position,” Carina said, leaning in closer. “Hear them out.”

/>   Cici didn’t have the heart to tell Carina that Donald Johnson and a few of the other congregants had already been emailing her for the last couple of weeks to see what she’d need to convince her to leave her church in Boston.

  “We took in a nice donation this past week,” Donald Johnson said as he walked toward Cici. “It covers the cost of the mortgage on the church and leaves a healthy amount left over for your salary.”

  Carina clapped her hands together, her large diamond engagement ring flashing in the sunlight. “Oh! If you’re back by June, then you can officiate my wedding. How awesome would that be, Cici?”

  Cici had to smile at Carina’s enthusiasm.

  “I’m supposed to be in Peru, then.”

  “Why don’t you think it over,” Donald said, handing Cici a thin stack of papers. “We’ll have to make a final decision. We’ve only got the month.”

  “But you’re our first choice,” Carina said. “By a mile.”

  When Donald turned to glare at her, Carina drew herself upright. “I’m on the board, too, Don. Settle down.”

  Donald scowled and cleared his throat. “True. And . . . I didn’t get to the funeral,” Donald’s face flushed. “Awful business about your sister. Just awful,” he muttered, folding his hands over his slight paunch and turning his face away.

  “I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” Cici blew out a breath. Her phone rang. “That’s my boyfriend,” she muttered.

  Not that she was particularly glad to talk to Lyndon after their last call. Still, a chance to break away from the entreating looks of the coalition in her sister’s living room proved welcome.

  8

  Cici

  Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes. —Shakespeare

  Cici packed her bag. She had to use her phone to make a shuttle reservation since her sister’s desktop had been impounded by the local detective. Sam hadn’t been happy when the guy showed up. Sam had told Cici that Detective Martins had been twiddling about, waiting out the year so he could retire with his full pension—he clearly didn’t care about solving this case. While Cici wanted to be patient, her sister was dead and she wanted justice.

  Shuttle reservation set for tomorrow, Cici stared at her bag. Gidget nudged her leg and Cici bent down to rub her head.

  “I’m going to miss you, sweet pea.” The dog looked up at her with large brown eyes. Cici blew out a breath. “Too bad staying with Evan for a bit is out of the question.” Cici sat on the side of the bed, stroking the dog’s head. Gidget eventually laid her muzzle on the comforter and closed her eyes.

  “We’ll figure it out. Once I get back, get the mess with Lyndon sorted, I’ll . . .” Cici stopped. Mess with Lyndon? Was that how she saw her relationship?

  She fell back on the bed and covered her eyes with her forearm. When had everything become so complicated? She’d always liked her job and the executive reverend of the church where she worked. She liked the big, bustling feel of the New England city, though she hated the cold wet wind that whipped off the bay and straight into her bones each winter.

  She’d left Santa Fe years before to get away from the nightmare of her parents’ broken marriage, of her wild-child reputation. But she’d also left behind her mother as she succumbed to cancer and now her sister to an early death.

  She turned on her side and looked over the edge of the bed at Gidget, who’d curled up on the floor.

  Cici took a deep breath and marched into Anna Carmen’s room. She pulled Gidget’s large bed through the door, down the short hall, and into the guest room where Cici slept. Gidget rose, prancing, tongue lolling, happy for her bed and a human to sleep near. Once the dog’s bed was arranged, Cici brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas.

  “We’ll figure something out, Gidge. As soon as I can, I’ll come back for you.”

  9

  Cici

  Oh, I am fortune’s fool! —Shakespeare

  The moment Cici landed at Logan the next evening, a dark sense of foreboding hovered over her. Her steps hitched as she moved through the airport, almost as if . . . well, as if she’d made a mistake by coming back to Boston.

  Lyndon waited for her in his car, engine running. Cici tossed her suitcase in the trunk and settled into the passenger seat.

  “Glad you’re back,” he said, leaning over to kiss her.

  “I feel like I should have stayed longer,” Cici began.

  “Why? I mean, what else could you do, really?”

  “Find out why Evan was so angry, for one. Go through Aci’s belongings.”

  Lyndon frowned, flicking on his blinker. “Your dad offered to do that, which was nice of him.”

  Cici snorted. Father wasn’t nice.

  Lyndon reached over and clasped her hand. “Now, you can focus on your future. I have some good news! Lawrence Chambers wants to meet with us tomorrow! At eight thirty.”

  Cici glanced at the dashboard. It was going on midnight. Once she’d arrived back to her apartment and settled in for the night, it would be much later.

  “Five hundred people came to pay their respects,” Cici murmured, ignoring Lyndon’s enthusiasm about the meeting. He hadn’t even asked her how she was holding up.

  “Is that a lot?” Lyndon asked.

  Cici shrugged and let the outdoor landscape capture her attention as they drove. She remained quiet as Lyndon went back to chattering about his strategy for the meeting the next day. He pulled into a space about a block from her building and turned off the ignition. He exited the car and popped the trunk before getting out to remove Cici’s bag.

  “Thanks for the ride home,” Cici said, sliding her arms around him in a hug. He smelled of expensive cologne and something else. She’d never been able to name the scent before, but now she wondered if it wasn’t ambition.

  She closed her eyes, trying to right her world. Grief and stress consumed her.

  “You don’t want me to come up?” Lyndon asked, hurt seeping into his voice.

  He didn’t know how to deal with loss. He deflected—a common tactic. She shouldn’t be angry with him . . . but she was.

  Cici shook her head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She turned quickly and began walking toward her apartment’s door.

  Cici refused to acknowledge her deep-seated relief when Lyndon didn’t follow.

  Cici’s head remained too clouded for proper thought when she settled in for the meeting the next morning.

  “So, what was so important that you missed our initial meeting?” Lawrence Chambers asked, his jowls almost twitching with indignation.

  Cici turned toward Lyndon, who’d dropped his eyes to the table. He looked dashing, as usual, with his blond hair styled back and his cheeks clean-shaven. His suit fit even better than her father’s custom-tailored ones and his tie was a whimsical blue paisley. He looked every bit the successful Harvard graduate. Except for the faint flush on his cheeks.

  Cici cleared her throat and faced Lawrence. The older man’s gray-laced eyebrow rose, his lips turned in a pout. These men in this room, who could make or break their plans, their trip, heck even Lyndon’s career, did not like waiting. Nor did they like excuses.

  Lyndon had told Cici that he hadn’t known how to tell them of her family tragedy—mainly because it wouldn’t matter much, not to this group. Cici met each man’s gaze.

  “My twin sister was murdered,” she said.

  That caused a ripple of shock down the gleaming solid-wood table.

  “I flew in late last night to be here for this meeting because Lyndon said you had concerns about the funds and how they’d be spent.”

  Cici settled her palms against the table. She rose slowly. In the past few days, the only person to understand her emotional turmoil, the only person to truly grieve with her, was Sam. Lyndon couldn’t—wouldn’t. He wanted Cici to stay busy, too distract herself—to cry and grieve in private, keeping those messy emotions away from him, much as these men here wanted to change the uncomfortable topic.
>
  But that wasn’t how the world worked. And Cici wasn’t sure she could participate in this space. But she’d made promises, and Cici intended to keep them.

  “Since my personal life isn’t what we came together to discuss, let’s focus on the details of this meeting and where we plan to spend the bulk of the medical and sanitary funds you’re considering allotting to our project, shall we?”

  She graced the men with a tight smile and began her presentation.

  She couldn’t care less about a single word she spoke.

  10

  Cici

  I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue. —Shakespeare

  “You were amazing,” Lyndon said, pressing his lips to hers as they exited Lawrence Chambers’ ostentatious offices near the Common.

  Cici glanced up and down the road, her mood about as positive as the black-topped snow slowing melting at the curbs.

  “I’m glad I was able to help,” Cici said.

  That was true. She was. This had been Lyndon’s dream for years—before they met. He deserved every opportunity to achieve success and happiness. Cici knew better than most how quickly life could change. Or simply end.

  “Let’s go to brunch to celebrate,” Lyndon said, practically bouncing down the street in his thick winter coat and scarf.

  Cici let Lyndon pull her into a small café, where they settled into a small round, metal-topped table. Cici ordered a mocha and an egg white omelet with tomatoes and mozzarella. Lyndon chose a full stack of pancakes and a side of bacon.

  He continued to grin and chatter on about how well the meeting went, how much Lawrence seemed charmed by Cici. Thankfully, Lyndon didn’t need Cici to respond, which was good. The longer she sat there, the more she realized she didn’t care. Not about the investments and charming a rich man out of some of his money. Not, really, about pursuing this opportunity.