A cruel smile played across her lips for a moment as she continued to dab the tears off her cheeks. But now her eyes were fixed on us. The smile disappeared and she seemed to pout for a moment before lowering the napkin from her cheeks and pointedly looked at Frank.
“How did you figure it out it, Detective? I had a feeling you would. But I’m puzzled. What tipped you off?”
“The needle marks between Yasmine’s toes and the muscle relaxant. Something that didn’t fit in. We know Brinkley is more direct in his killing. And the hit man Detroit sent out here didn’t fit in with this method of killing either. So that meant someone with a medical background had to be involved,” Frank answered.
“Still, what evidence brought you to my doorstep?”
“Ever go to Las Vegas, Mrs. Andersen?” I asked. “Ever
