“I know the vibe you mean,” Crystal said. “Once you’ve had experience with someone like that, you know to watch for it.”

Arden was struck by the gravity of her tone and waited to see if she would elaborate. But she didn’t, so Arden continued.

“But besides my meeting with Rusty, something else disconcerting happened while I was there. I learned from the detective who furnished me with the investigation reports that Ledge had acquired copies of them. Only days ago. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“He’s said nothing to you about getting those reports?”

“No.”

Arden didn’t believe she was lying, but she wasn’t being completely open, either. “Crystal, why would Ledge have any interest in them?”

“Why does it matter?”

“That’s what I need to know. Why would Ledge care what was in those reports?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“I can’t.” The words came our harsher than she’d intended. Backing down a bit, she said, “It would be awkward for me to seek him out now. We had something of a falling out.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Over what?”

“I didn’t hire him.”

“Why not? He does excellent work.”

“I’m sure he does. That wasn’t the issue. It was a personality clash. We rub each other the wrong way.”

The track of the conversation was making her distinctly uncomfortable, as was Crystal’s sharpened scrutiny. Arden wondered if she perceived her guilt. Crystal’s niceness made her feel wretched over those damn kisses. She had never poached on another woman and had a low opinion of women who did. She wouldn’t be one of them.

“I apologize, Crystal.”

“Apologize?”

For wishing you were ugly and crass and not Ledge’s lover. “For placing you in the position of having to choose between being polite to me and breaching confidences. I had hoped you could shed light, but I realize now how awful it was of me to ask.” She set her glass on the coffee table and stood.

“You don’t have to go. We can talk about something else.”

“Thank you. Another time, maybe.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more.”

“I understand completely.”

Crystal walked her to the front door. “Will you be staying in Penton?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I hope you’ll try the salon. Some of my clients would kill for your hair color. But I don’t think it can be duplicated out of a bottle. You have to be born with it.” Smiling, she pulled open the door.

Ledge was standing on the other side of the threshold, one hand high on the doorjamb, as though he was about to push his way through it. He pulled off his sunglasses and gave both of them a blast of his icy blue glare before it settled on Arden.

“Well, hello there,” Crystal said brightly. “Did you stop by for happy hour?”

“No.” Without taking his eyes off Arden, he said, “Marty asked me to meet her here.”

“I didn’t hear your truck.”

“I parked in front of the salon. Saw that it was closed. Walked over. Saw her car here.”

It irritated Arden for him to refer to her in the third person when she was standing less than a foot away from him. “I was just leaving.”

“What are you doing here?”

Crystal intervened. “Arden got here as I was closing up shop. I was so glad to finally meet her, I invited her over for a drink.”

“It was very nice of you to have me,” Arden said, turning to Crystal. “Thanks again. I’ll stop by and take a look at those products. Bye.”

Ledge stepped in her path. “As long as you’re here, we’ve got business to settle.”

“We settled our business.”

“Except for the hundred dollars you owe me for working up the estimates. Due upon receipt. That’s printed in red on the invoice.”

“I didn’t receive an invoice and—”

“Have you checked your email?”

“—and furthermore, you told me we were even-steven.”

“That was conditional. You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

“I—”

“Here’s Marty.” Crystal eased around Ledge and went to greet whoever had pulled a car into the driveway.

A woman got out of it, then reached back in for a large, white paper sack. As they approached the house, Crystal said something to her that caused the woman to look at Arden with ill-concealed curiosity. Arden reciprocated. The newcomer was dressed in medical scrubs, but, from the neck up, she looked like a punk rock star.

When they reached the porch, Crystal made the introductions. “Marty, Arden Maxwell. Arden, my housemate, Marty Camp.”

They exchanged hellos. Crystal said, “Arden already knows Ledge.”

“Does she?” Marty looked her up and down, then turned to him and raised a raven-black eyebrow.

He said, “You’re late.”

“I stopped for Chinese.” Marty hefted the sack.

“Well?”

She took a sealed letter envelope from the outside pocket of her cross-body purse and handed it to him, saying drolly, “You’re welcome.”

Without even looking at the envelope, he folded it in half and slid it into the back pocket of his jeans. “How did you—”

“Don’t ask. And, anyway, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Thanks, Marty. I owe you.”

“You certainly do. Be afraid.” She then looked at the three of them in turn and said, “This feels like one of those awkward situations you walk into and, for the sake of all concerned, should probably keep walking. If you’ll excuse me?” She went inside but left the door ajar.

Crystal heaved a sigh. “This isn’t only awkward, it’s silly. So I’m going to be the grown-up. Last night, you,” she said to Ledge, “and Arden today, came to me, talking about and around the same subject. She has questions that I can’t answer.

“I think it’s time for the two of you to go somewhere and have an honest conversation, while Marty and I carry on with our plan for the evening, which is to curl up on the sofa, gorge on Chinese, and binge watch a series about vampires. Goodbye.”