“What we need to figure out is if Barbara Jean Marx knew Pauline Alexander.”
“That, and a whole lot more,” Morrisette muttered.
“Yes, but is there a connection? Was Pauline’s coffin exhumed randomly or was the killer giving us another clue? The note mentions two.”
“Are you fuckin’ for real?” Morrisette muttered. “Or do you have ice water in your veins? You just found out that your lover was tossed into a coffin, buried alive, possibly carrying your child and you…you sit there calmly and ask if she knew the other woman?” She rolled her eyes and threw up a hand. “I can’t believe it.”
Reed leaned back in his chair. “The best thing we can do is solve this.”
“But—”
“He’s right,” McFee cut in. “And you don’t have much time.” He was staring at Reed, but hitched a thumb toward Morrisette. “Because she’s right, too. Your ass is gonna be thrown off this case. Pronto.”
Nikki’s cell phone chirped as she pulled up to the curb in front of Jerome Marx’s business. Caller ID verified that her friend Simone was on the other end of the connection. “Hey, what’s up?” Nikki asked, eyeing the doorway to the redbrick building situated a few blocks from the Cotton Exchange.
“Kickboxing tomorrow night, seven o’clock. Remember?”
Inwardly Nikki groaned. She had hours of research ahead of her tonight and tomorrow, and a story to write. “No.”
“You missed the last class.”
“I know, I know, but I’m caught up in something really big.”
“Don’t tell me,” Simone said and Nikki could hear the smile in her voice. “The story of a lifetime. Your chance to make it in the big time, your big break, the scoop of the century, the—”
“Okay, okay, so you’ve heard it all before.”
“Mmhmm. I thought we could go kick some butt, then get barbecue or go out for drinks or something fun.”
“I don’t know if I can make it.”
“Come on, Nikki, this class was your idea.”
Nikki glanced at her watch. Five-thirty. Where was Marx? “I don’t know.”
“You’ll feel so much better.”
Simone was right about that. A little exercise couldn’t hurt, and after class Nikki usually felt wired, ready to take on the world. “Okay, I’ll meet you at the gym, but I’m not sure about anything else.”
“I guess I’ll just have to talk you into it. Maybe we can talk Jake into going out for something afterwards.”
Jake Vaughn was their instructor. Tall, dark, handsome, with muscles straight out of a Mr. Universe competition. Also, Nikki suspected, gay. All the women and some of the men in the class drooled over him. Jake didn’t give off any of those sexual vibes of most thirty-something jocks. Simone didn’t seem to notice or care. She’d been harboring a crush on Jake since the first class in September. “You can try.”
“I will.”
Nikki’s eyes were on the building’s doorway where she spied Jerome Marx exiting. He was wearing an overcoat and walking briskly to a parking structure. “Look, Simone, I’ve got to run. I’ll see ya later.”
“I’m counting on it. Tomorrow.” Simone hung up. Nikki clicked off her cell phone, dropped it into her purse and was out of the car in one swift motion. Darkness was already descending as she hurried up the street and caught up with him at the building’s staircase. “Mr. Marx?”
The guy turned to face her and a bit of a smile touched his lips. Not exactly the grieving husband.
“Nikki Gillette, the Savannah Sentinel. I heard about your wife. My condolences.”
“My ex-wife,” he clarified, his smile sliding away to reveal the hard line of his mouth. “Well, at least, soon-to-be ex, but thank you.”
“If you have a minute or two, I’d love to speak with you about what happened.” She was nearly jogging to close the distance between them.
“What’s to say? Bobbi was murdered. Some creep threw her in a coffin and buried her alive with a dead woman. I hope to God the police catch the bastard.” He started up the concrete steps.