really had the night to themselves, then. Sajal changed into shorts and a Yosemite National Park T-shirt and went into the kitchen where his wife was stirring spaghetti sauce. She made it with sausage and lots of tomatoes, just the way they both loved it. Spaghetti was the first dinner they’d had together. He’d taken her to a local place, not a chain. And when she’d ordered spaghetti, he’d known he’d met his soul mate.
He leaned over her shoulder and kissed her behind her ear.
After she giggled softly, she asked, “What was strange about today?”
Sighing, still not wanting to talk about it but compelled to share with his wife, he answered, “I heard a conversation that disturbed me today.”
As her mouth opened to probe, he shushed her and held his finger up, pressing it to her lips. He saw her eyes register his concern.
“Sajal.” She swatted his hand away.
Now her brow lowered, and those lovely eyes admonished. She knew something was amiss. He almost smiled. Worry kept it at bay. He loved her so much. Strong, beautiful woman.
“My darling.” He kissed her cheek.
She pushed his chest. “You tell me now!”
He stepped back, adoring her, calmed by her. “I love you even when you’re mad.”
She poked him with her finger, not hard enough to hurt, just demanding.
“I heard Tristan talking tonight to a man I don’t know. It was about Kirby Clark’s murder.”
Her hand flattened on his chest. “You’re worried. What did they say? Tell me all.”
He didn’t want to.
“Sajal...”
He sighed again, this time with more reluctance. “Maeve. It is work.”
“Work? The CEO was murdered, Sajal. Now, you tell me what you heard.”
He contemplated refusing. Would he put her in danger if he did as she asked?
“Sajal...?”
He knew that tone. There was no getting around answering her. “I heard Tristan talking in his office tonight.” His wife turned the burner to simmer. The water for the noodles was just beginning to boil, and the smell of baking French bread began to fill the house. “A man came to see him. He called him Archer. They talked about Kirby Clark’s murder, about evidence Archer was concerned would come to light.”
“Evidence?” Maeve put noodles into the water.
“Fiber evidence. Archer must be a detective because he mentioned his chief.”
“And this Archer person is hiding evidence?” Maeve faced him, grave confusion and worry filling her eyes. “What does Tristan have to do with it? Why is he involved?”
“That I don’t know. He was supporting Archer, who seemed afraid he’d be caught.”
“Why? Does he know who killed Kirby?”
“Oh, I definitely think he does.”
“Do you think it was Tristan?”
The way Tristan had spoken made Sajal say no. He was supportive of Archer. But then, Tristan was known for his ruthless ways, his fearlessness. In business, he was successful. He’d probably worked his way up to the executive ranks.
“What were you doing outside his office?” she asked.
“I was in one of the supply closets. It was across the hall.”
“Did they see you?”
“Tristan did. He asked how long I’d been there. I pretended not to be aware that he and Archer had talked.”
His wife’s eyes searched his face. She was worried. He didn’t like seeing her that way. “Did he believe you?”
Sajal replayed the exchange in his mind and had to answer honestly. “I don’t know.”
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