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after a few hours’ sleep. Hair of the dog and all that. But Elise wasn’t drunk; I wouldn’t have made the appointment with her if she had been. And she didn’t have the usual girl pack hanging around outside to see if she’d really go through with it. No, Elise was different. I think she really was going to surprise Matthew. Instead, the tables got turned somehow, and Chip was the one who was surprised.
    “What if she’s dead?” Joel asked too loudly, interrupting my thoughts.
    I put a finger to my lips. “Sssh,” I whispered.
    He leaned toward me, folding his arms across his chest. “So what if she’s dead?” he repeated in a stage whisper.
    “The cop yesterday told me she wasn’t.”
    “How does he know?”
    How did he know? She could be dead, or she could be in Los Angeles or Hawaii or New York now.
    Another thought made me pause.
    “She could be married to Matthew by now,” I said.
    “What?”
    “Maybe after she left here, she and Matthew got married.”
    “But you said she wanted the tat for her wedding night.”
    “Maybe she couldn’t wait. Maybe she found out Chip had found her here, and she and Matthew took off.”
    It was all speculation. And if Chip’s driver Matt was Kelly’s Matthew, it seemed unlikely, since Matt was with Chip. I had no clue what happened to Elise. I just hoped that wherever she was, she was alive and happy. She obviously had her reasons to leave Chip at the altar, and it wasn’t for me to make judgments about that.
    Voices echoed from the front of the shop, and Joel and I instinctively both reached for the door at the same time. Bitsy pushed it open and peered around it, blinking a couple of times before focusing on me.
    “Brett? You might want to come out here.”
    I’d had enough disruptions for one day and it was still early. But it might be Tim.
    Bitsy’s face was animated. Not in a good way.
    “Who is it?” I asked as I took a step.
    She didn’t answer, just let me go past her.
    A light blinded me, and the lens of a TV camera was shoved in front of my face.

Chapter 8
    Someone had alerted the media.
    Someone “Miss Kavanaugh, can you tell us about Elise Lyon’s state of mind when she was here the other day?” She wasn’t as tall as I was, blond, with that fake, stiff smile worn by every TV reporter.
    “How do you—”
    “She has no comment.” Tim had arrived simultaneously, coming in behind them, holding his hand up in front of the camera lens.
    “Detective—”
    “No one has any comment,” Tim said firmly, now attempting to steer them backward and out the door.
    “But, Detective, Elise Lyon was last seen here, at your sister’s shop.” The reporter wouldn’t give up. I recognized her now as Leigh Holmes, Channel Six. “We’d like to get her impression of the missing woman.” For the noon news, no doubt.
    “And I said, no one has any comment.” Tim’s voice echoed through the shop.
    Joel and Bitsy stood staring, their mouths half-open.
    With one more push, Tim got the camera guy out the door, and he held it for Leigh Holmes as she walked through, tossing him a dirty look.
    They had a one-night stand a while back. She sings opera during her orgasms. I called Joel in desperation during an aria from Tosca because I couldn’t take it anymore, and he was kind enough to let me sleep on his couch. I’m not sure she knows we live together, because I hadn’t been home when she arrived or when she left.
    Tim was asking Bitsy if they could talk in the staff room for more privacy. As they walked by me, he said, “You’re next.”
    “What? Didn’t I answer all your questions?”
    “I need to get an official statement from you. I need to get all the information I can.” He lowered his voice and leaned toward me. “As you can tell by the media, the fact that this is Bruce Manning’s future daughter-in-law is putting a lot of pressure on the department to find the girl. And there’s a lot of pressure on me, because you’re my sister, and