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horrible.” She did smile then. “But Shawna had the last laugh; she got the house, the car, and most of the bank account.”
    “What did he get?”
    Trish flashed a brighter smile. “Free.”

Chapter 8
    “Nice house.” They pulled up before a stone-veneer split level with an oversized two-car garage on a cul-de-sac in a neighborhood announcing its status with an imposing brick entrance.
    “Must have been a pretty lousy marriage for him to be happy just getting out.” Bates looked over the house. An unobtrusive sign in the velvety lawn advertised the name of the lawn care service.
    “I guess freedom is worth different things to different people.”
    Bates merely grunted as they stepped onto the flagstone porch. Scott rang the doorbell. He lifted his hand to ring the bell again when the door opened. A tall brunette yawned as she opened the door as far as the chain would allow.
    “Scott Aylward, PD.” Scott held out his badge, and Bates did the same. “Are you Shawna Turner?” She nodded. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about Delia Enfield.”
    She rubbed a hand over her face as if to wake up. “Sure.” She closed the door to remove the chain, then swung it wide for them to enter. The flagstone of the porch repeated itself in the large foyer. Shawna closed the door behind them, then slipped around them. Her shapely legs showed under the short, silken robe she wore as she led the way down into a family room. A flat-screen TV at least four feet across dominated the wall nearest the street. Tiny, but high-dollar, speakers sat in all corners of the room. Shawna crossed the room to settle herself on a sectional sofa of tan suede. She motioned to the matching sofa on the other wall for Scott and Bates. She drew her legs under her and waited.
    Scott glanced at Bates, who looked down at his ever-present notebook. “We understand that you and Delia sometimes went out together.”
    Shawna nodded. “We were all single, about the same age, and none of us wanted to go out alone.” She shivered. “I guess what happened to Delia proves it isn’t safe to go out alone.”
    Bates nodded. “It always pays to be careful.” Bates watched Shawna, though his head appeared bent over the notebook. “Can you think of anyone she might have met with alone?” He looked up. “Or anyone who might have wanted to meet with her, that she didn’t want to see?”
    Shawna met Bates’ gaze. “She met a few guys for dates, never let them pick her up, always met them at a restaurant or club, being careful.” She glanced at Scott. “There were never any she wanted to meet for a second date.”
    Scott nodded. “Any of them take the rejection hard?”
    Shawna shrugged. “From what she said, and from the few of them we saw her with, they really didn’t seem too into her, either.”
    “Trish mentioned that she stopped going out with you for a while.”
    She nodded. “Couple of months ago, she quit going out for three or four weeks.” She looked down at her hands. “She said she just didn’t feel like going out, but…”
    “You didn’t believe her?” Bates’ voice was gentle, sympathetic.
    She looked up at him. “Well, there were rumors…”
    “Rumors about what?” Bates still sounded like a best friend, rather than an interrogator. Scott could see how he had made Chief of Detectives.
    “Rumors that she was seeing—” She glanced from Bates to Scott and back. “Look, I have to work there, you know.” She looked down at her hands. “Now that Delia’s gone, I’ll have to make the damned bank deposits.”
    “I understand you’re in a tough spot.” He waited.
    “Mr. Moran and his wife have…” She paused, looked at the ceiling, and heaved a ragged sigh. “An arrangement.” She shivered slightly. “Neither one cares what the other one does, as long as the public face stays clean and happy.” She clasped her hands. “As long as both of them are smiling and act lovey dovey at business affairs, they