I follow Drake’s lead into it. It’s exquisitely decorated, from the detailed ceiling to the painted canvases on the walls and the Queen Anne–style furniture.

Shit me. I’ve stepped into an antique showroom.

“Please, take a seat.” Alyssa smooths her pencil skirt down and sits on one of the sofas, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m assuming y’all are here on an official capacity having seen me enter Natalie’s room on Saturday, so I’m open to any questions you have.”

Her eyes focus on me.

They linger for a moment too long.

“Why did you go to her room?” I ask. “She isn’t on the public council payroll.”

“She’s my daughter’s best friend who recently went through a nasty breakup, Noelle. Why wouldn’t I see her?”

“Because she owns a house outright and would have, as your daughter’s best friend, spent time with Madison since the breakup.” No way am I telling her that it isn’t what she thinks.

“My daughter and I lead entirely different lives. I see her only when it suits her.”

“Except for the fact that she works for your husband, her father, in his building, five days a week, plus overtime, with benefits.”

“Just because she does doesn’t mean I do, Ms. Bond.”

“I was Noelle three minutes ago. What changed?”

“You interrogated me like I’m a common criminal.”

I lean forward, ignoring her entitled, affected gaze. “Well, Mrs. McDougall, I don’t see that my questioning should bother you. If you have nothing to hide, you have no reason to be offended by my enquiries.”

“No, but I can request you have official representation.”

“In case that escaped your notice, ma’am, I’m sitting next to the chief of homicide and have your husband’s signature on a contract giving me the same powers as the HWPD to investigate Natalie’s murder for the sake of your daughter.” I pause, watching the annoyance leave her eyes as my words sink in. “So you can tell me what I want to know or I can tell your husband that I recommend Detective Nash and Sheriff Bates put his wife on the official list of suspects. Your choice.”

The silence that stretches between us is long and tense.

“Your talent is wasted as a private investigator, Noelle. You should be on the police force and telling your brothers what to do.” Alyssa’s lips move into a smile.

“You might be correct, but I much prefer being my own boss. Besides, I get paid far more.” I bite my thumbnail. “Can I count on you to tell me what you know, or am I beating my forehead against a brick wall?”

Alyssa sighs, leaning back and linking her fingers. Her outfit miraculously remains uncreased. “Natalie worked for the council on a contractual basis. She was paid for miscellaneous jobs, such as paperwork, reception, design, cleaning, campaign work. On Saturday, she was due to deliver one thousand promotional flyers to me before the debate, but only six hundred turned up. I went to her room to enquire as to the whereabouts of the missing four hundred.”

“What did happen to them?”

She shrugs, one arm to the side. “Who knows? She insisted she didn’t.”

“Did you fight?”

“Physically? No, of course not. Verbally? Words were exchanged, yes.”

Fuck, I wanna ask if her if she knew she was sleeping with her husband.

“Was she lying?” I ask, sitting back. “In your personal opinion, of course. Did you feel she was being dishonest about the flyers?”

“Perhaps,” she replies cryptically. “I don’t count myself well versed in bodily signals regarding honesty.”

That explains why she’s been married to the mayor for so long.

“Mrs. McDougall,” Drake cuts in. “If you have any information about what happened on Saturday, we’d really appreciate it. The police department is very sensitive of the impact this could have on Mayor McDougall’s latest campaign. We respect him highly, and I know I speak for us all when I say we’d love to see him stay on for another term as mayor. We’re looking to get this case wrapped up as quickly as possible to minimize the possible damage.”

“Why, Detective,” Alyssa drawls, “that sounds like you read it right off my husband’s latest speech.”

“He must have excellent taste, ma’am.”

I want to throw up.

“Detective Nash, with all due respect,” she continues, “I don’t trust y’all as far as I can throw you. I can barely throw the dog’s tennis ball these days, so I don’t fancy my chances against you. While I understand that Ms. Bond is working with y’all, I’d real appreciate it if you could step outside for a moment so I can finish my conversation with her.”

Well. Shit.

Drake looks at me. I smile sweetly before mouthing a quick, “Go!” at him.

“Very well, ma’am. I hope you’re well.”

Alyssa inclines her head toward him, a perfectly polite smile on her face.

What could she want to discuss with me? And does she expect me not to tell them? Because…ugh. If they question me formally, which is something Trent at least would do, then her cats are let out of the bag and free to mate.

The door shuts behind Drake and Alyssa visibly relaxes. “Fucking cops,” she sighs.

Double, well, shit.

“Is it awkward if I agree with you?”

Alyssa laughs and stands up, moving around the sofa with several clicks of her heels against the polished wooden floor toward the bar in the back corner. She lifts the bottle of gin, pours a measure into glass, then tops it up with tonic water.

“Can I offer you one?”

What the hell. The glass of water never showed up. “Sure.” I join her at the bar as she drops the empty tonic water bottle into the trash can.

Her red, manicured fingernails stand out against the clear liquid in her glass. “Randy was right,” she says quietly, referring to her husband. Her eyes creep up to meet mine. “This case should be solved quickly and quietly, and not because of the bullshit propaganda Detective Nash spewed to me. Just because it’s worth it to many people for this to be closed quickly and quietly.”

“If the person who killed Natalie agreed, her murder would have been staged to be suicide. She would have been made to look responsible for her strangling, not still have been tied to the bed.”

She takes a deep breath, sorrow deep in her eyes. “Believe me,” she whispers, looking into her glass. “Except my daughter, no one other than me wishes this could be solved perfectly. I’d give any of me to see Natty’s killer come to justice, but I don’t know how I can help you, Noelle.”

“By telling me what you know. Exactly what you know.”

She takes a long drink from her glass, draining it, then sets it down. “My husband has long been…adventurous…in our marriage,” she admits, her voice cracking at the word adventurous. “It sounds like insanity, does it not? That I’d still be here after forty years, allowing him to play his games?”

“Yes,” I admit honestly. “I couldn’t imagine being with someone who didn’t look at me and see his entire universe.”

“You’re a romantic, honey. I’m a realist. When Randy first cheated, I saw our daughter, the empire we had and were building. It was too much to throw away on simple misdemeanors.”

“Simple misdemeanors? You don’t classify him spitting on your vows and tearing them apart as deal breakers?”

“At first? Yes. After? No. This isn’t an open relationship by any means, Noelle. I know about every little escapade he has with a woman, but I’ve never once stepped out on him. I know my place in our marriage.”

She knows her place? What the fuck is this? The nineteen fucking fifties?

Why has no one told her to leave his cheating son-of-a-bitch ass inside the washing machine she could take him to the cleaners with?

“And your place is at his side as his equal,” I say quietly but strongly. “Alyssa, you don’t have to take his shit. You don’t have to be the doormat he wipes his dick on when he’s done with whatever he wants outside of the vows he unequivocally promised you.”