A Fatal Romance - June Shaw A Twin Sisters Mystery

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was there, too,” Jacques said. “But I went out after his wife tripped. There was no way I could sweep up my buddy. Zane and I used to work together in the oilfield.”

      “I didn’t know him,” Melanie said, “but I wanted to help.”

      I smiled tight-lipped and wondered what Jacques might think if he knew I had parts of his friend at home in my pocket.

      He wrapped an arm around his wife. “This here’s a good woman. She doesn’t even mind those things I give your sister.”

      “I have you,” she said with a smile she froze in place and faced me. “I know Jacques pays your twin a nice alimony, even though he wouldn’t have to. And I’ve learned about the cars.” Those would be the Lexuses he sends Eve every couple of years.

      “We can still afford them,” Jacques said.

      “Jacques can give your sister anything he wants.” Melanie planted a kiss on his lips. “Except his heart.”

      Ugh, mush. “Please give my niece a big hug for me,” I told Jacques.

      “I sure will.”

      Melanie’s gaze raked me from head to toe. “I know his first wife is your twin. Does she still look like you?”

      I offered a bright smile. “Yes, she does.”

      Melanie pursed her lips. I waited for her to say something complimentary. Instead, she moved away and picked through cantaloupes.

      Jacques leaned near my ear. “Tell my gal I still miss her.”

      Stunned, I returned a wave to his wife when she came back to Jacques. Gripping his hand, she took him and her cantaloupe toward the checkout.

      Did he really still miss Eve? He had sent her those cars hoping to get her back and let her know how important she’d been to him, he’d always said. Eventually he gave up, met someone else, and remarried.

      And did his wife really mean she didn’t mind the cars and jewelry he sent my sister?

      My legs tensed. Jacques and Melanie were only in town a few days. Could she have broken into Eve’s house? But if she did, what might this young woman want? Eve’s latest car? She should figure it would be locked in the garage. Besides, she couldn’t just drive the thing away. Jacques would notice she had that beauty.

      Of course she could destroy it.

      What about Eve’s other two exes? As far as I knew, they only gave her nice gifts after their divorces to mimic what Jacques did. At least that’s what Eve determined. Neither of those men had remarried, but they might be in relationships with women who’d want … what?

      I grabbed cans of whole tomatoes and tomato paste. Stared at them in my hands. A large can, the whole tomatoes, like a large man. Or the small can—like a petite woman. Could she smash a sliding glass door until she got inside?

      Absolutely. A woman could also do all of that damage to the paintings.

      “I would have liked it,” a woman said from the end of the canned vegetable aisle. Her voice sounded somewhat familiar, so I paid closer attention. Daria Snelling walked past with an empty buggy. Again this morning she wore crimson—a short sheath with matching heels.

      She didn’t glance my way. A man on the other side of her wore a navy shirt, wide sunglasses, and a baseball cap, and didn’t appear to have a buggy. I may have seen him before, but wasn’t certain.

      I moved closer. Peeking into the rear aisle, I could see only their backsides. I sensed they were talking pleasantly. They didn’t pick up anything or seem to care about groceries. Understandable for her with just losing a husband. But why had she come into the store today? Only to amble? To talk to this person?

      I yanked up a couple more items and rushed to show up at the checkout when they arrived.

      Daria headed toward me, her buggy still empty. Had she even noticed? I shoved over to a checkout counter three away from hers, considering what to do next. The man with the cap stood behind her, a hefty teen cashier blocking most of his face. The man’s hand gripped a loaf of white bread. Not a diet person. Probably without a dieting wife. I didn’t spot a ring.

      I considered lining up behind him, but Daria might still be furious with me, and having her yell at me in a store couldn’t produce anything positive. I did want to know why she hadn’t responded to my message on her answering machine. Why wouldn’t a wife rush to call an unfamiliar woman who claimed to own something of her deceased husband’s?

      Plucking my groceries out of the cart, I set them in front of the cashier who asked if I found everything I needed.

      “I sure did.” I glanced again at Daria’s checkout.

      She headed for the exit. No buggy. Only a purse on her arm. The man striding behind her.

      I paid for my groceries, tossed them in plastic bags before the cashier could, and rushed outside. In the busy parking lot, I found no sign of her or the fellow who’d followed her. Disappointment sucked down my spirit. I didn’t care what she did. What I did care about was properly disposing of her husband’s remains that I unwillingly possessed.

      Along the highway, I made a quick stop at a squat building that formerly sold ice. Now two signs out front read Shrimp and Welding Supplies. I chose shrimp. Buying a couple pounds of medium peeled ones, I then swung down my sister’s street, hating that I did. I didn’t want to start checking on her, but this day was different. This was the day after somebody broke into her house.

      A few houses before hers, I stomped the brakes. My mouth went dry.

      The Hummer was gone from Eve’s driveway. A large truck took its place. A midnight blue truck. Why would another man be there right after Stan left? The person who drove it might have been the one who broke into her house. He may have just been waiting for Stan to leave.

      I hadn’t been able to save one sister. I needed to save this one.

      Chapter 3

      Knowing I could do whatever was necessary if Eve was in trouble, I mentally rummaged through my vehicle. I couldn’t reach the tire jack fast enough. The tool was in the truck bed beneath boxes of ceramic tile we would soon use in a customer’s bathroom. The toolbox behind my cab held hammers and crowbars I could reach in a minute.

      Envisioning my plan to grab one of each and rush in yelling and wielding them, I was almost at Eve’s. Her front door opened. A man stepped out, followed by my sister. She wore spiky heels and a sky blue dress and wasn’t screaming for help or even looking unhappy. In fact, she nudged up to the guy and didn’t pay attention to the street.

      From what I could see of him as I passed, he appeared slightly younger than some men she normally dated. Of course Stan had just left her house from his overnighter while I grocery shopped. And a new guy was already there?

      I checked my rearview mirror. He stood a bit taller than Eve and looked thick in the shoulders and trim in the waist. The man pointed toward the front of her house while she smiled and kept nodding, looking at him, not where he indicated.

      I drove around the block to my own place, hauled groceries inside, and phoned her.

      “Hello,” she said like a happy sparrow.

      “Who is he?”

      “Who?”

      “The guy standing beside you. Or that you’re standing against. Who is he?”

      She took a minute in which I imagined she backed away from him and glanced around, expecting to see me. “Where are you?” she asked much softer.

      “In my house. Just like you should be since yours was broken into yesterday. You should have your doors bolted against guys like the ones you have streaming in and out of your place.” She didn’t respond, so I kept going. “You probably don’t even know the name of this new one who stopped by right after your other guy

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