The Detective's Dilemma

Mrs. Womack waved her diamonds and said, “Oh, honey, call me Giselle. We’re not formal here. Are we, Beth?”

Beth folded her long legs and took her seat. “Not at all,” she confirmed, and lifted a hand toward the chairs placed at either end of the rectangular glass table standing before the couch. Ty picked the chair closest to Beth, leaving Paul to cross in front of the table and gingerly take the chair next to Giselle Womack. Paul nodded affably and was pointedly ignored. He shot an amused look at Ty and settled back, prepared to be invisible.

Giselle leaned forward, allowing Ty yet another view of her cleavage, and said, “I think it’s wonderful how you’re helping Beth.”

Helping Beth. As if he was a paid assistant. Ty ground his back teeth. “We’re investigating the murder of Brianne Dumont.”

“I’m dying to know,” Giselle said, gushing. “Was she or wasn’t she?”

Ty lifted both eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“Hasn’t anyone else told you?” Giselle fairly crowed. “I just knew someone would spill the beans.”

By now Ty realized he wasn’t going to get a straight answer from the blonde; she was too busy congratulating herself on being the one to manage the revelation. He turned to Beth Maitland. “Was she or wasn’t she what?”

“Pregnant,” Beth answered bluntly, a light dancing in those sky-blue eyes. “Brianne claimed that she was pregnant.”

Claimed was the right word. Ty had seen the coroner’s report. Brianne Dumont had not been pregnant at the time of her death—had never been pregnant—but he kept that bit of information to himself.

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