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teaches there because he loves art not because he’s looking for accolades.”
    Stacey spouted his phone number and address from memory. Jess added both to her notes. “This Mr. Ellis taught you that scenes like the one at your friend’s home represent art?”
    About ten seconds of squirming had the woman’s chair squeaking. “He teaches us that real life is true art. I guess I was in shock or something when I found my friends murdered.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “I was so upset. Maybe I went a little crazy. I haven’t slept all night. I don’t know what I’m doing even now.”
    How convenient . The shock may very well have caused her to behave erratically but snapping a pic of her murdered friends didn’t quite qualify, in Jess’s opinion. Particularly since she’d waited more than four hours to post the photo. “So, Alisha Burgess was your friend, too?”
    This morning Stacey had insisted she hardly knew Alisha.
    “I… mean…” Stacey shrugged, glanced nervously around the room for several more seconds. “I suppose she was. She was Lisa’s roommate so…”
    Now she was just outright lying. Stacey Jernigan had been in this room for better than an hour. There was absolutely nothing noteworthy in any of the department’s interview rooms. Certainly nothing warranting more than an initial look around. Yet, Stacey surveyed the space as if seeing it for the first time. Sterile white walls, plain metal table and stiff plastic chairs. Not one thing interesting or inspiring. The big clock with its second-hand ticking off every trauma-filled moment was intended to twist the tension a little tighter. As a general rule, it worked. Like now.
    “Were Lisa and Alisha lovers?” Jess had a feeling that was where the conflict existed between these three young women. Jealousy could turn violent very quickly.
    “No!” Stacey shook her head adamantly. “None of my friends are… like that. We like guys… men.”
    “I didn’t ask if either preferred women over men,” Jess clarified. “I asked if they were sexually intimate.”
    “I don’t think so.” Stacey shrugged. “I can’t say for sure.”
    Stacey Jernigan was an attractive young woman with long black hair, gold eyes and perfect skin. She dressed well, if a little provocatively. Her academic resume was admirable despite her current occupation at a sex toy shop. Jess would also lay odds that she was well informed in the ways of the world. She might not have been out with her murdered friends last night but she had been before. There were things Stacey believed based on her experience with the two victims. Things she obviously didn’t want to share.
    Jess’s continued silence did the trick.
    “Lisa liked trying out the toys,” Stacey murmured.
    The words were spoken so softly Jess barely heard them. “The sex toys? From the store where you work?” Like the neon pink object shoved down her throat. Not a pretty way to die .
    A nod this time. “There are bonuses for pushing certain items. Lisa didn’t believe in promoting anything she hadn’t tried.”
    Like any good businesswoman. “So she and her housemate may have tried out the toys together on more than one occasion.”
    “Guess so.”
    “I need you to think long and hard, Stacey, about anything you may have forgotten to tell me.” Jess slid a notepad and a pen across the table. “Then I want you to write it all down.”
    Stacey stared at the notepad. “I already told you everything.”
    Time to shake things up. Jess opened the plain manila folder on the table in front of her. “Do you understand how posting that photo of your dead friends makes you a person of interest in a double homicide?” She pushed the folder and the stack of crime scene photos it held across the table, and then fanned out the close-up images of the victims like a poker hand. “I’d hate to see you become an accessory to these murders.”
    “Oh, Jesus!” Stacey twisted in her chair and vomited on the