FOURTEEN
The three women sat at the clubhouse table. It was covered with trays of sweets. The chef was trying new recipes, and had decided Rachel and her friends were the perfect subjects to sample his deserts. Rachel reached for an éclair and took a huge bite. It tasted delicious, but didn’t lift her spirits.
“Who is more stressed than me?” Rachel asked, lifting her iced tea glass high into the air. “I’ll bet nobody.”
“So, give us the skinny,” Olivia said, daintily picking up a cherry tart and sipping from her glass.
“The last I heard from Detective France, he said that they had run out of leads.”
“What?” Tia asked. “A woman was murdered in her own apartment and they can’t find any evidence? That’s crazy.”
“There weren’t any fingerprints, except for Eneida, Joe and me. However, ther
