“No, we’re going out to dinner with Dad and Stephanie, remember? It’s his birthday.”

“Oh, right.” Christine had forgotten or maybe blocked it. An evening with her in-laws would be the perfect end to a perfect day.

“I got him that putter, but if you could pick up a card, that would be great. You have the time, right? I have to go, bye.” Marcus walked away without another word.

“Good-bye,” Christine called after him. She watched him go, then realized her car was in the opposite direction. She turned around and walked the other way, trying not to see it as symbolic.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Christine sat in her car in the parking lot, letting the air-conditioning blow on her face. She took a sip of an overpriced iced tea she’d bought on the way. She still had another half-hour on the meter and she was eyeing the phone in her hand. Griff had called the first time at nine forty-five, so she assumed that it was right after he’d met with Zachary. She would have to make a decision about the retainer, now.

Christine mulled it over. After what Gary had said, she wasn’t sure she should contribute, but she did want to call Griff back, even though Marcus didn’t want her to. Griff was only following up on something she’d asked him to do, and she hated to drop out of the picture without any explanation, even a fake one. She took another sip of tea, wondering if she should call Lauren to see what she thought. They hadn’t talked much on the way home since Christine had fallen asleep after her crying jag. She scrolled to FAVORITES and pressed Lauren’s cute profile picture. Any reason was a good reason to call your best friend in the world.

“Hey, honey!” Lauren said, picking up after the first ring. “I was just about to call you. How are you?”

“I’ve been better. Just got out of Gary’s.”

“Ruh roh. Did you get yelled at? And what happened last night? Tell me fast, I’m picking up Seth at the orthodontist.”

“The headline is I didn’t get yelled at, but they don’t want me to call Griff and pay any retainer. Griff called.”

“What did he say?”

“I couldn’t get it. Marcus was right there, and we had a fight.”

“Oh no.” Lauren groaned.

“Oh yes.” Christine sighed.

“Christine, I don’t think you should help with the retainer. Paying, even lending him money, is crossing some line I don’t want you to cross.”

“I get that, but what about calling Griff back? Can’t I call and tell him that? The lawyer said not to and so did Marcus, but they just don’t want me to get involved. I felt majorly bossed around.”

“Aw.” Lauren clucked. “They’re not the boss of you. So what, you want to call Griff?”

“Yes.”

“Then call him, but make sure it’s the last time.” Lauren paused. “I have to tell you, Zachary scared me yesterday with all that talk about how you cut into a heart. That was creepy, you have to admit. I started to wonder if he was guilty.”

“I know, but then again, it shows he’s not the killer, or he wouldn’t even go there.”

“So are you completely sold?”

“No, but I’m inclined to think he’s innocent, that’s why I feel so crappy about washing my hands of him. Gary gets it, but Marcus doesn’t. Last night is a story you don’t have time for.”

“Okay. Call me later, I want to hear.”

“After dinner with my in-laws.”

“Big Frederik and his trophy wife? Lucky you.”

“You got that right. Bye, love you.”

“Love you, too.” Lauren hung up, and Christine pressed END. She took another sip of tea, scrolled to recent calls, and pressed Griff’s number. It rang twice, then he picked up.

“Griff.”

“Yes, hi. It’s Christine. Did you get to see Zachary this morning?”

“Yes. I’m going to represent him, if he can get the retainer.”

“Griff, about that.” Christine hesitated. “I don’t know if I can give him half of it.”

“His girlfriend’s lending him the other half.”

“Really?” Christine felt confused. “I thought they broke up and—”

“Gah,” Griff growled, impatient. “I don’t care. I didn’t call you to talk about romance. I called about that woman you told me about. The neighbor who told you Robinbrecht used to have men up all the time. Did she see anything that night?”

“I got the idea that she did, but she wouldn’t say.”

“What was her name again?”

“Linda Kent. She lives around the block from Warwick Street, but I don’t know her house number.”

“Then it is the same one. The house number is 505. I went over there. She’s dead.”

“What?” Christine asked, shocked.

“It was an accident.”

“How? What kind of accident?”

“She fell down her staircase. Her neck was broken.”

“How horrible!” Christine tried to visualize it, from what she remembered of the backstreet. “Do they know how she fell, or what happened?”

“At midnight or so. She probably slipped on the stairs. Neighbors say she drank like a fish.”

“But why would she be out on her stairwell at night?”

“How the hell do I know?” Griff grunted. “I don’t have time to shoot the breeze.”

“She said she had a clear view of Gail Robinbrecht’s steps, in the back. That’s the only entrance to a duplex, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Typical West Chester. The realty companies came in, chopped the houses into duplexes. Kent lived in one. So did Robinbrecht.”

“Doesn’t that seem strange to you, that Mrs. Kent dies in an accident, just a few days after the woman who lives directly across from her is murdered?” Christine was thinking out loud. “I mean, we know that Kent could have seen something that night, or maybe the killer simply thought she did. Kent looked at Robinbrecht’s apartment all the time, and the back stairs. If she told that to me, a complete stranger, how many other people do you think she told it to? Anybody who went to Robinbrecht’s, like Lauren and I did that night?”

“Oh boy. Speculating. I gotta go.”