She sliced through my attempt to speak. "If it sounds like I have all this memorized, I do. If you're bored, join the club. I've heard the fantasy of their noble community until I could gag. It's all they talked about. I should have seen it coming. I complained to Lauren about how much time they spent together, but she wouldn't listen."

Her voice rose, forcing me to lower the telephone from my ear. "She said they were friends, as if friends kill themselves to leave other friends four million dollars."

"Maybe shea""

"I wonder how much money she wasted on those policies. This explains why she never had the money to travel or eat out. Last year, I had to go to Europe with a friend from college because Lauren claimed she couldn't afford it. She wouldn't join a health club. She bought these flimsy weights at Target and worked out on her own. She drove a beat-up car that was an embarrassment. I begged her to get a new one. I told her she was ruining our image, and she laughed and said she didn't want another car. I wanted a leather sofa for Christmas.

Guess what? She didn't have the money. She had one thing she allowed herself to spend money on, and it sure as hell wasn't me."

She snorted before continuing. "That wretched Ashley, that was it! Everything else in life was too expensive, except, evidently, loads of life insurance."

"How much did the insurance cost?"

"How should I know?" she said shrilly.

"Didn't you look to see how much she owed?"

"I couldn't be bothered. Reading things like that makes my eyes blur."

"I could take a look at the policies if you'd like," I said gingerly.

"Thank you, no. You've done enough. Poking around in my life, asking personal questions, all for nothing. I should call Patrice and tell her to give me credit, that I found out why her sister killed herself. The final sick act in a sick life. The ultimate co-dependent statement. But enough about Lauren, I'm robbing you of the opportunity to speculate on who benefits from her death. Have you come up with it, Kristin? You're supposed to be the super detective. Solve it!"

I was sick of being taunted and should have ended our call, but I couldn't. Silence was my only answer.

"Here's your last clue, and it's a biggie: They were lovers once."

Involuntarily, I said, "Cecelia."

After Nicole replied, "You're brighter than you seem," I slammed down the phone.

20.

The day went from bad to worse.

Ann asked for the afternoon off but wouldn't say why. I barely avoided an argument there. Our two graphic artists missed another printing deadline, this time because the client wanted to see a tenth proof of the same line he'd changed nine times throughout the month. I didn't back down from that confrontation. I fired the client.

By the time five o'clock rolled around, I fled the office, eager to meet Destiny at my apartment.

Her late arrival did nothing to levitate my mood.

My scowl deepened when she offered the explanation for her tardiness: She'd had to stop by Suzanne's apartment to check on something, and it took longer than she thought.

I accepted her incomplete excuse at face value, only because I didn't have the energy to excavate more details.

The mystery of why Destiny seemed to want to spend more time in Suzanne's apartment than mine would have to wait.

The next morning, I had barely reached my desk when Ann accosted me. "Mom called last night. She wants us to divide up the responsibilities when David gets out of the hospital," she said heavily.

"Keep your voice down," I replied. "Come in and shut the door. We're trying to run a business here."

"Now you're concerned about that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked as she loudly closed the door to my office.

"You've been so busy with your suicide case, you've neglected clients and missed Angela's review."

I grimaced at the oversight. Angela had worked through the school year as an intern in our graphic arts department, and I'd promised a mid-June review of her full-time employment. "Why didn't you remind me?"

"Because you never forget anything," she said snidely. "Until now."

I sighed. "That's not fair. I've managed outside cases along with this business countless times. Has it occurred to you my work might be slipping because our only brother is lying in intensive care at Denver Health? Maybe dying."

"Maybe dead," she said dully. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Take away all the medicine and the machines, and he's probably dead."

"Maybe."

"Better yet, he died a long time ago."

"Okay," I said, not willing to bicker, "what did you tell Mom?"

"That our family couldn't coordinate a bake sale, much less significant rehab. We could take turns, though, feeling guilty and managing crisis watches."

"If we did split the work, Mom would delegate all the jobs to us and think that satisfied her requirement," I countered.

Ann smiled lopsidedly and sat down. "I went to visit him yesterday."

I raised one eyebrow. "David? Why?"

"I wanted to do a meditation with him. I talked to him about choosing whether to live or die."

"Did he respond?"

"Not physically," she said rising, before adding curtly, "I'll give Angela her review."

"Thank you."

"By the way, I saw the stuffed animals you brought him," she said, and it sounded like an indictment.

"It was all I knew how to do," I said to the empty room.

After a few glum hours spent pretending to work on a dental newsletter, I pondered whether I should visit David or Cecelia.

I wanted to run to David's bedside and shout through his coma, "Don't listen to everything Ann says. You probably should make a decision soon, but you don't have to do it right now. If you want to stay and fight, I'll be with you. If you need to go, I'll miss you, but I'll understand."

Because chances were good he wouldn't hear me, I opted to visit Cecelia.

I had barely entered the health food store when I heard, "Hey, Kris!"

I turned to see Cecelia beaming at me. "You've changed your ways and started shopping here!"

"Not yet. Actually, I came to see you. Can we talk?"

"Right now?"

"If possible. It's important."

"C'mon, let's go to my office."

It resembled a large closet. Clutter everywhere. A Coleman beef poster adorned one wall, a year-at-a-glance calendar another. On a third wall hung a poster-sized photo of her and Lauren on top of Pike's Peak. I sat in front of their feet.

"I spend as little time as possible in here," she said apologetically as she cleared a seat. She balanced on the edge of her chair and added through a slight scowl, "You've got bad news, don't you?"

"Not hardly. What would you think if I said you're extremely rich."

"Very funny."

"I'm serious. Lauren left you a sizable chunk of money," I said earnestly.

A shadow crossed her face. "Kris, I wrote her paychecks. You can't save anything on what she made."

"It didn't come from savings. She had life insurance."

Cecelia became utterly still. "She followed through on it," she said softly as her lips quivered.

"What? The plans for a women's retreat in southern Colorado? Your Crestone dream?" Despite my best efforts, my tone had an accusatory edge to it.

Cecelia stiffened. "Who told you that?"

"Nicole. She's livid because she thinks you and Lauren were having an affair, and that's why she left you this money."

She systematically chose icy words. "Is she more upset about the alleged affair or the money?"

"Probably the money."

"That figures." She shot me an appraising glance. "And what do you think?"

"What am I supposed to think? There's aa""

She silenced me with a hateful glare. "I spent an entire lunch pouring out my guts to you. Do you honestly believe Lauren and I were sneaking around behind Nicole's back?"

"No," I said despairingly. "It's just that this insurance moneya""

She interrupted. "Have you seen the policy?"

"There isn't one policy, Cecelia. There are eight, which total four million dollars."

She burst into wild, withering laughter. "Four million or four billion, what does it matter? None of it goes to me."

"But Nicole swore you were the beneficiary," I protested feebly.

"If that airhead had bothered to read the fine print, she would have seen I'm the administrator of a trust, not the beneficiary."

"You knew about this?" I asked, anger overriding incredulity. "And you never said anything to me?"

"I knew about one policy, but I never thought about it. A long time ago, Lauren asked me if I'd agree to be on her insurance, but nothing came of it. I had no idea she followed through and bought one, much less eight."

"What's the trust for?"

"Her niece, Ashley. You can't directly name minors as beneficiaries, at least that's what Lauren told me."

"When did she do all this?"

After a thoughtful silence, Cecelia replied, "I can't remember specifically. If I had to guess, I'd say it was a couple years ago, maybe a little more."

"Which means she and Nicole were lovers then?"

"Oh, yeah!" I could see the pain in her eyes.

"Why didn't she ask her to do it?"

"You'd have to delve into the intricacies of their strange, and estranged, relationship for that answer."

"It all goes to Ashley?"

"Every dime. Lauren made that very clear. I think that's why she chose me."

"Because she trusted you," I said, without adding the obvious implication she didn't trust her lover.

Cecelia nodded, and I let out a long breath. "I guess I have my answer. She killed herself for the money."

"It's not that simple, Kris." She fell silent, and I prodded her with raised eyebrows. "The money was her gift to Ashley, but I suspect the reason goes beyond that."

"To what?" I demanded warily.

"To honor. It all makes sense."

"Clearly you know something I don't. Would you mind filling me in?"

"I can't."

I pleaded with her. "Please, Cecelia, tell me the rest. Why was Lauren so attached to Ashley? You know, don't you?"