Ultraviolet by Nancy Bush

then shut, then dropped open again. She looked like a beached fish. “What? Why? ”

    “We’ll talk about it later.” Which was couple-speak for “after the guest leaves.”

    But Gigi was having none of it. “How’re we supposed to pay our bills? Oh my God. You’re kidding, right?”

    “It’ll all be okay.”

    “Oh my God…”

    “Nobody knows what they’re doing there. The other salesmen don’t know fuel injectors from wiper blades.” He flicked a look my way. “I work—worked—at Miller-Kennedy, the Mercedes dealership. Mike Miller’s my uncle and there is no Kennedy anymore.”

    “A family-owned business,” I said politely.

    “You got that right. My dad’s the account manager.” Something about his tone suggested he thought his father wasn’t much of an employee, either. I got the feeling Emmett thought the place would fall apart without him.

    Gigi was going through a rapid thought process. “She’s still there, I take it.”

    “Everybody’s still there. Except me.” He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

    I wondered who “she” was. Emmett’s mother?

    “Well, you can’t quit now, Emmett! My dad’s estate isn’t even close to being settled. We gotta wait.”

    “Too late. I walked. Mike was yelling and screaming. I think he scared two customers out of the showroom.”

    “You should have that dealership,” Gigi stated flatly. “But Mike’ll leave it to those morons, you know he will.”

    “His sons,” Emmett said for my benefit.

    “But you’re the only one who knows anything. Y’see?” she said, turning to me. “And then there’s Violet. She gets her family’s money? And she’s awful. It’s just not fair. Unbelievable! She hit Daddy with that tray and killed him and it’s like it never happened! Why haven’t they arrested her?”

    Emmett gave me an assessing look. “You know Violet?”

    Gigi apparently decided to come clean, saying, “She’s working for her,” then proceeded to put her spin on my role in searching for Roland’s murderer, making me sound like I was just using his death as a means to suck off some of Violet’s money.

    “Violet’s paying me,” I admitted. “She’s fully aware that if I find out she’s at fault, I’ll turn her in.”

    He looked skeptical. “She’s a liar,” he told me.

    “Daddy used to call her Ultra -Violet, like it was a pet name,” Gigi revealed. “Made me want to puke! She always tried to be so nice to us. I never liked her. I just know she slithered back into Daddy’s bed.” She shivered all over. “They were probably screwing while I was supposed to be walking down the aisle.” Her face was suffused with color.

    “She killed him,” Emmett said.

    “I’d like some proof, before I go there,” I said.

    “She hit him with a silver tray in the head and he died. What I wonder is, why aren’t the police doing their job? She should be in jail.”

    His sentiments and Gigi’s were one and the same. “She says he was alive when she left.”

    “But she admits she hit him.” Gigi pounced on that one. “Who says he was alive? Emmett’s right. Violet is a liar!”

    “Can you think of anyone else who might have a reason to want him dead?”

    “Violet hit him,” Gigi repeated stubbornly. “That’s a fact.”

    “The Wedding Bandits were there, too,” I reminded her.

    “Who says? Violet?” Gigi crossed her arms over her chest. “She could have stolen those things.”

    “The police are pretty sure the bandits were interrupted.” I didn’t feel I needed to go over all the particulars. The fact that items had been scattered around the house and yard was well documented.

    “I found the body,” Emmett reminded me soberly. “I know the crime scene.”

    Gigi tossed her head. “I don’t care what anybody says. Violet killed Daddy. I hope she goes to jail forever. I hate her.” She turned to Emmett, her nose turning red, angry tears welling. “It’s so awful!”