THE PERFECT CRIME

Chapter 3

SIX MONTHS AGO

“He’s hot,” Sherry remarked, her doe eyes glued to my phone screen with one hand while the other held the mug of latte she had been nursing.

I smiled. Sherry’s slang was out of place for me, but the fact that he’d acknowledged Bellamy’s beauty meant it was true. Sherry was the most brutal critiquer I had ever known and not once had she glossed over a blunt truth.

She turned her eyes to me with an impish smile plastered across her face. Placing her mug across from her, she said, “This is the guy who’s mesmerized my friend?”

“I wouldn’t say mesmerized.” I clasped my fingers around the ceramic mug of coffee that was running cold. “It sounds like he spellbound me if you put it that way.”

We giggled.

She still wore that smile when she said, “Well if you’re happy, I’m happy for you.” She handed me the phone and I slid it into my purse.

She took a sip and devoured the last blueberry muffin on the plate, saying with food in her mouth, “I’m glad you decided to get out of your sanctuary. There was no way you would’ve crossed paths with Bellamy if you always locked yourself up in there.”

She was right, and I couldn’t refute it. I recalled the night she peered into my office and gave me that piece of advice. I had ended a session with a client and I was reclined on the sofa with a paperback.

She’d said, her fingers gripping the knob, “Hey, I thought you’d gone already.” She released the knob and tucked her handbag under her armpit. “Can I come in?”

I bobbed my head and she entered. She ambled toward the couch, running a hand through her massive blonde hair. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to someplace for the weekend? It’s Friday.”

I didn’t need to be reminded of it. I hated Fridays. It took me away from my job the next morning, and I didn’t like idling about in my suburban house that was an hour’s drive from the clinic. I enjoyed the solitude in my house. That’s why I had no pet, no housemaid—nothing that kept me company. Partly the reason I hated going home.

My sister Portia and I had been estranged ever since she moved out of the city with her husband. When she was single, she’d visit me over the weekends. But now, I only saw her twice a week on the phone.

Pushing the paperback aside, I sat up and straightened my slacks. “Yeah. I should be leaving.”

I walked past Sherry to my desk, turned off the lamp, and grabbed my cashmere overcoat hanging across the wall. Sherry’s eyes were fixated on me as I slipped into the overcoat.

“When was the last time you went out?”

I flicked back the tail of my pony and buttoned up the coat. “I went to the supermarket yesterday before going home.”

She stared daggers at me. I had no idea what I had said wrong.

“No, Anne. When did you go out to have fun?”

I picked up my purse from the desk. “I don’t remember.” I tried racking my brain to no avail. If she wanted to taunt me, then she was succeeding. “Maybe some months ago.” I shrugged. “I really can’t remember.”

We walked side by side to the door. As I turned off the light in the office, she said, “I know of a place. Barrel & Bubbles. B&B for short. It’s cosy at this time of the night.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Maybe you should pass by. You can’t always lock yourself up. You need to go out, have fun... enjoy your life while you can.”