Chapter Three: The Dead Woman in the Ring

“I’m reminding a partner who has no instinct for self-preservation.” At the registration table, Howard slid a ring onto Evelyn’s finger with a flawless smile. Mira noticed a tiny wound on Evelyn’s little finger, much like the puncture on Celeste’s hand. A waiter passed with champagne. Mira turned deliberately, allowing a glass to brush Howard’s white lisianthus boutonniere. She reached to steady it. Darkness swallowed her. Evelyn lay in a bathtub, a pregnancy report floating beside her. Howard stood beyond the door, speaking into a phone. “She signed the will. Clean it up.” Across the mirror, someone had written four numbers in lipstick: 0716. The vision vanished. Mira dropped her glass.