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minutes before he was murdered.”

“Impossible,” I said and scoffed.

“Where were you yesterday, say, about one in the morning.”

“I was in my hotel room. In bed.” Having phone sex.

“Were you anywhere before that? With anyone?

“Yeah,” I said. “Before that I went to dinner with the mayor at Rossetti’s. Why?”

I could almost feel his jealousy through the phone line. Oh well.

“Did he come up to your room with you after dinner?”

“Is this police business or are you just jealous?” I asked.

“Were you alone?” James repeated, clearly irritated.

I laughed. “Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

Jesus Christ, did he need me to spell it out?

“I was alone, but I was on the phone with someone.”

“Huh,” he said dryly.

He had no right to act that way. He had no claim to me.

“I’m looking for an alibi for you Gia.”

“What the fuck?”

“Just answer me and I’ll explain.”

“Fine. I was on Facetime. In my bed. Naked. Having phone sex.” There, nosy.

“Jesus.”

“You fucking asked.”

He exhaled. “You’re right, I did.”

“Why? Where were you? With Madame Butterfly?”

“I’m not a suspect,” he said, not answering the question.

“Wait? I’m a suspect?”

“Maybe.”

“That makes no fucking sense,” I said.

He kept talking. “So, the mayor will verify you were in your hotel room during those hours, right?”

“It wasn’t the mayor.”

“Whatever. Will that person vouch for you?”

“Uh, yeah. Duh. Obviously, whoever thought they saw me was mistaken.”

“Obviously,” he said. “Can I get the name and number of the person you were speaking to on the phone?”

I reeled off Ryder’s name and number.

“Ryder, huh?”

“Yep.”

He hung up without saying goodbye.

What the fuck? He had no right to be jealous. Jesus. And how in the fuckity fuck could I possibly be a murder suspect.

I immediately called Dante and told him about Rosenbloom’s murder.

“Apparently, I’m a suspect,” I said.

“That makes no sense.”

“Tell me about it.”

Then I told him what James had said. A witness had seen me.

Just then I got a text from James.

“Hold on,” I told Dante and pulled it up.

It was a still shot from video surveillance.

Holy shit. It was a woman talking to Rosenbloom. The image was from behind.

And she looked like me. As much as a woman who dressed in leather pants, a hoodie, and dark sunglasses could look like me. The photo was grainy, but even I thought it looked like me. Even the handbag was the same as the one I had on a chair in the corner—a not-easy-to-find charcoal gray suede Balenciaga bag.

Someone was fucking with me. And hard.

“Dante,” I said. “I’m sending you a picture James just sent me.”

I waited until he looked at it.

“Gia, that’s you, right? Talking to Carl Rosenbloom?”

“Nope. When that picture was taken, I was having phone sex with Ryder.”

“Spare me the details.”

“You asked.”

“Not really.”

“The point is, someone is fucking dressing up like me and killing people.”

There; I said it.

“That makes no sense.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, turning to look at my ass in the mirror. It was still shapely even though I’d slacked on my workouts. It was fine, though.

“What are you doing?” Dante asked.

“Why?”

“You seem distracted and not very upset that someone is trying to pin two murders on you.”

“Two?”

He sighed. “I didn’t want to say anything, but James called me earlier and asked what day and time you got into town. I didn’t realize why until just now.”

“That bastard,” I said.

“He’s just doing his job.”

“I was kidding.”

“What I don’t get is how she could get that particular Balenciaga bag that quickly? Those aren’t easy to find, and whoever it is must’ve seen yours at the board meeting.”

Of course, Dante would notice that detail.

“So, let’s narrow it down to the women who were there,” I said. “Easy, right?”

“It could be a man who saw you and decided to make you the fall guy,” Dante said. “A woman probably wouldn’t have been able to take down Rosenbloom and beat him like he was beaten. No offense.”

“None taken. But I could’ve done that and I’m a woman.”

“Gia! If you’re phone is tapped, you just basically said you could’ve killed him.”

“Not exactly. Plus, my phone isn’t tapped.”

“Listen, my attorney is calling. I’m going to fill him in, and he’s going to give you a call. I think you need a lawyer.”

“I doubt it.”

“Don’t argue.”

And then he hung up.

Fuck. If Dante thought I needed an attorney, that worried me, even though part of me doubted anyone could pin a murder on me. They could make me a suspect, but there was no way they’d be able to plant enough evidence for an arrest.

Or could they?

Seventeen

James shook his head.

It wasn’t possible.

Gia wasn’t an angel, but she sure as hell wasn’t a serial killer, either.

But that photo?

The only connection between the two murders was that the victims both served on the gala fundraising committee.

“What’s the motive?” he asked the chief.

“That’s your job to find out.”

“We can’t place her at Glass’s death.”

The chief shrugged. “But you said yourself she’d just arrived in town that morning.”

James bit his lip. “True.”

“Figure it out. That’s why you get the big bucks around here, Commander. Put your best detectives on it.”

“There’s something you should know,” James said, exhaling loudly.

“I think I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do?”

“Tish spilled the beans earlier. The suspect is your ex.”

“Jesus,” James said. “This place is like a coffee klatch.”

The chief picked up the folders and stood. “After all these years here, and you act surprised?”

“She didn’t do it, Chief.”

He turned and raised an eyebrow above his wire-rimmed eyeglasses. “Are you going to be able to be objective on this one? The only reason I’m not yanking you off this case is because I’m hoping you might be able to get her to turn herself in if she’s really the killer. I trust you, James.”

This was bad. He watched the video again. The camera was across the street and down the block some. It showed only a brief glimpse of the two talking. The woman walked up to the man. They spoke for a few seconds and then moved off camera.

The footage was grainy. You couldn’t see her face or

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