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presence, walked into the kitchen.
    "Trouble in paradise?"
    "More like ripples in Shangri-La.
Be right back," I said quietly as I stood.
    I walked into the kitchen. Imogen was unpacking our
dinner, banging each individually packaged meal onto my quartz
island.
    "This one's the chicken
parmigiana," she said as she slammed it onto the
counter.
    Her face was taut with anger while she desperately
tried to soften her expression.
    "Cucina Italiano? Delicious!" I
said, trying to defuse this volatile situation before it
exploded.
    "Why is that bitch here?" she
asked, in a controlled angry whisper.
    Too late.
    "She just stopped by."
    "Well, if I'm being honest here
Max, I don't appreciate your ex-fiancée just popping
in."
    At this most unfortunate of
moments, Kitty called into the kitchen from the living room asking
if everything was OK. I called back to her that we were fine and
that I'd be out shortly. I told her to make herself comfortable and
to fix herself a drink if she so desired.
    "Now she's staying for a
drink?"
    "Let's discuss this later. For
now, let's just go out there and play nice."
    Imogen wiped up some of the tomato sauce that had
splattered out of the chicken parmigiana container and onto the
counter, tried to abate her anger, and put on a charming, gorgeous
facade. We both strolled out into the living room. Kitty now had a
drink in her hand. Judging by the lime in her glass, it looked like
she had made herself a gin and tonic.
    She was standing when she said,
"I'm sorry to bother you two. I don't want to interrupt your
dinner. I'll just head—"
    "Please, Kitty, enjoy your drink,"
I said, motioning for her to sit down on one of the
chairs.
    Imogen shot me a look that nearly took my head off.
Kitty, sipping on her drink, in the process of sitting, must have
witnessed the glare. She tried to force herself to rise, but
gravity took over and she descended into the seat.
    "Miss Whitehall, I don't mean to
intrude, but—"
    "No worries, luv," Imogen replied,
as fake and as charming as ever.
    "Before I leave, can I ask you two
something?"
    "Of course," I said.
    I made myself comfortable on the couch. Kitty was
sitting opposite me on a chair. The white shag rug separated us.
Imogen was somewhere between leaning and sitting on the armrest of
the couch.
    "What did you two make of the
email from Mike to Ted?"
    It was not worth noting to Kitty
that Imogen and I had discussed the email at some length. After
all, I was not sure where Kitty stood in this whole mess, and I
certainly wasn't going to let on to her that Imogen and I had been
mildly grilled by Detective Carrington about our role in this
sordid affair.
    "We weren't too sure what to make
of it," I said.
    "It sounded like a threat to me,"
Kitty said.
    I dismissed the threat comment,
wanting to learn more about the origins of the email itself. "How
did you get that email? It wasn't addressed to you."
    "I'm a snoop. I looked at Ted's
email on his laptop the other day. He had been acting weird all
week."
    "Did Ted mention anything odd
going on at the office?"
    "Ted never told me anything about
work. But I had the feeling that something big was afoot. He was
taking calls and doing work at all times of night, which, even for
him, was out of the ordinary. He usually disconnected for a little
bit before bed, but it was clear for the past few weeks that
something had been brewing."
    "Why didn't you share that
information with the police?"
    "They didn't ask."
    "Well, I'm sure they will shortly.
I shared the email with them."
    Kitty's expression changed from
feigned pleasantness to displeasured shock. She shifted in her seat
as she raised her voice in fury.
    "Dutch! That was for you. Not for
them!" Now she looked as if she was contemplating throwing her
drink at me.
    "We're all on the same side,
Kitty."
    As if she caught herself in
mid-tantrum, Kitty's demeanor changed back from fury to
congeniality.
    "Yes, of course we are, Dutch.
Well, I've taken up too much of your time