Page 30 of Little Bitter Truths
“It smells amazing.What’s for dinner?”
“Pork scallopini.”He set the skillet down and walked over, pulling me into an embrace.“How was your day?”
“Eventful.”
He leaned back, studying my face.“How’s the investigation going?”
“Slow, but I may have a theory.I asked Whitlock to stop by so I can go over it with him.I hope that’s all right.”
“I never know who might be joining us when you walk through the door, so I always make sure there’s plenty of food to go around.”
Giovanni returned to the stove, lifted his glass, and took a sip of wine before pulling two more glasses from the cabinet.He grabbed a bottle of white wine out of the refrigerator, opened it, and filled the glasses.
The doorbell rang.
“I assume that’s him,” Giovanni said.
Luka trotted alongside me as I walked to the front door and showed Whitlock inside.He stuffed his car keys into his pocket and bent down, giving Luka a playful pat.Then he straightened and looked at me.
“So,” he said with a wink.“What’s this theory that couldn’t wait until morning?”
We joined Giovanni in the kitchen, and he offered Whitlock a glass of wine, which he was happy to accept.A few minutes later, the three of us sat at the table.Giovanni placed the plated pork scallopini in front of us, the thin slices of pork bathed in a lemon-butter sauce that I couldn’t wait to try.
Whitlock was the first to take a bite, and he let out an appreciative hum.“Is this one of the menu options at your restaurant in New York?If it isn’t, it should be.”
“It’s a new dish we’re adding to the summer menu,” Giovanni said.“I’m glad you approve.”
“Now,” Whitlock said, pointing his fork in my direction, “let’s hear about this theory of yours.”
Giovanni lifted a finger.“Food first.Theory after.”
Whitlock laughed, and for the next twenty minutes, we steered the conversation away from homicide.
Once dinner was finished, Giovanni gathered the dishes while Whitlock poured another round of wine.
“Shall we talk in the den?”Whitlock asked.
I nodded, and a few minutes later, the three of us settled in near the fireplace.
“Have you spoken to Silas today?”I asked.
“I have.He called about an hour ago.”
“What did he say?”
“He walked me through his most recent autopsy findings.”
I took a sip of wine.“And?”
“I assume he told you the same thing he told me about the possibility the killer had lifted Wren off the floor after shooting her.”
“He did.”
“There were some droplets of blood that were inconsistent with the blood pattern around her body.Most of the blood spatter trajectory aligned with her cause of death, except for a series of droplets found in an area of the floor they shouldn’t have been.”
I set my wineglass on the table and clasped my hands together.“Earlier tonight I stopped by Mia’s house.I was looking at the framed photographs on her piano, and something struck me.Wren and Mia were so similar in looks that it would be easy for someone to mistake one for the other.”
Whitlock leaned forward.“I believe you’re leading me somewhere, and I have to say … I’m intrigued.”
