CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
At seven, the night was breezy and warm, not quite humid, but close. The verbal exchange between Cash and I had been limited after the police left, with the six of us had discussing an impromptu dinner and then scattering to do what was needed.
Cash and Sach sipped light beers as they grilled steaks and shrimp. Linda and Adwin made hummus and potato salad from scratch while Rey and I organized appetizers (cheese and crackers, and clam dip) and prepared pitchers of non-alcoholic sangria.
As I mixed the dip, I mulled over the talk Cash and I had had …
… “I’ve postponed my return flight for a short while. I didn’t think we should leave it this way.”
“Whatever,” I murmured as I pulled celery and peppers from the fridge. “Thanks for the roses.”
“Did you sleep with him
