you. At least now Lexi would still get her measly thirty minutes for what could evolve into a two-hour discussion.
Brodey turned to his sister, his posture stiff and unyielding. He held his uninjured arm out. “What do you want to do, then?”
“Hey,” Jenna shot, “don’t get snippy with me. You’re the one who booked a meeting without checking my schedule. If you want to meet with her on your own, go to it. All I’m saying is I can’t be there.”
“I’m not getting snippy.”
“Yes, you are.”
And now the two of them were going to argue. Terrific. Lexi held her hand up. “Can you two fight about this later?”
“We’re not fighting,” Brodey said.
Patience. Lexi squeezed her eyes shut, begging her beloved and departed grandmother to channel some of her legendary patience. Just a bit. Lexi had inherited her gram’s artistic ability, as evidenced by the stack of patchwork quilts she kept in her closet, but she’d be selfish now and ask for patience, too. Just a little. She breathed in and opened her eyes.
“For the record,” Brodey said, “if we were fighting, there’d be yelling.”
Jenna nodded. “And I might throw something.”
“That’s true. She gave me a black eye with a hockey puck once. And somehow, I got in trouble. Figure that one out.” He stepped over to her, lifted his arm, the one in the sling, and winced. “Ow. Forgot about the bum arm.”
“Ha!” Jenna said. “That’s what you get for thinking you’d give me a noogie.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Liar. I know you. And now that you’re injured, you’re a lame duck. Lame, I tell you.”
He and Jenna both laughed. And just that fast—boom—the tension flew from the room.
Being the only child of an artist and a musician, both of whom enjoyed their alone time, Lexi hadn’t experienced sibling rivalry. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, but this? This was different. This was about love and family and history. As much as she wanted to be irritated with these two, watching them snark at each other and then laugh about it tickled something down deep.
But she wouldn’t show them that. Instead, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, you’re not fighting. Glad we cleared that up. What are we doing about this meeting at four?”
“I’ll do it alone.” Brodey turned back to Jenna. “You sure you’re okay with that? It’s your case.”
“It’s fine. Just make sure she knows you’re only helping. I don’t want her upset when you disappear.”
“I will.” He faced Lexi and pulled a pocket notepad from his jacket. “I guess it’s you and me. Where am I meeting you?”
Brenda Williams’s two-story house butted up against the neighboring homes and looked like any other on the block. Weathered brick, a few steps leading to the small porch that barely spanned the front door, a single large window facing the street on the first floor, all of it as ordinary and indistinguishable as every other structure on the block.
Without a doubt, a long way from the pristine five-thousand-square-foot, multimillion-dollar greystone she’d shared with her husband. That house screamed vintage details on the outside but modern upgrades on the inside. To say the least, Brenda Williams had downsized. Apparently not by choice.
A wicked January wind whipped under Brodey’s open jacket to the blasted sling. Leave it to him to screw up his arm in the dead of winter. Despite the doc’s cautions, Brodey had been ditching the sling for an hour or two each day to give himself some freedom. That hour happened earlier when his shoulder cramped up. Now he was stuck in the sling for the remainder of the day. Unless he wanted his doctor to rail on him. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
He stepped to the side of the concrete walkway leading to the porch and waved Lexi forward. “Do the honors.”
She climbed the stairs, her long coat covering her amazing rear, and on any day he’d call that one of the great tragedies of his lifetime. And that was saying something for a Chicago PD homicide detective.
Twisted perhaps, but hey, the little things kept a guy like him sane.
Lexi rapped on the door, then turned back. “Did you say something?”
Could be. While working a case he talked to himself. A lot. “Probably.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry?”
“I talk to myself. I work crime scenes by talking my way through them, trying to figure out what happened. Half the time I don’t know I’m doing it.” Like now. “What did I say?”
Because given his lack of focus on anything but her delectable rear, he could easily be accused of lascivious thoughts. Thoughts he’d never deny when it came to a woman who looked like Lexi Vanderbilt.
“You were mumbling something about tragedies.”
Phew. Easy one. “Ah. I was thinking about this house versus the one we left. The whole situation is tragic.”
“That it is.”
The front door eased open and a petite brunette wearing jeans, boots and a long gray sweater greeted them. She wore her shoulder-length hair tucked behind her ears, and minimal eye makeup accented her brown eyes. Beautiful eyes. Big and round and probably at one time alluring to any man. All he saw now was sadness.
“Hi, Lexi.”
“Hi, Brenda. We’re a little early. I hope that’s all right.”
“It’s fine. But I just got home, so I’ll need a minute. Come in.”
Brodey followed Lexi into the foyer, where a blast of warm air thawed him. Directly in front of them a staircase with an oak rail and cool twisted spindles led to the second floor. To his left, through a set of glossy white French doors, was the living room.
Children’s voices carried from the end of the hallway. Kitchen probably. Most of these row houses were built with the same basic layout. Living room, small dining room, kitchen on the first floor. Three bedrooms upstairs. He’d lay money on it.
Lexi spun back to him. “Brodey Hayward, this is Brenda Williams.”
“Hello, ma’am. I’d shake your hand, but...” He pointed to his bad arm.
“That must be horrible in this cold. Aren’t you freezing?”
“It’s not bad.”
No sense in complaining about it. In the grand scheme, he could count his problems in three seconds or less, and that alone was enough to be thankful for.
Brenda
