Love Can Be Murder

kitchen behind it. She exhaled to relieve her pent-up tension and walked a few feet to her left, hitting another light switch to reveal the living room, which led into a bathroom straight ahead and into the bedroom around the corner. All five rooms could have fit into the master bedroom suite in the Victorian on Charm Street. The upside was that they'd been easy to furnish—one delivery from Furniture Galaxy and she'd been set: miniature dining table and chairs, two bar stools, sage green leather couch and butter yellow leather chair, side table, lamp number one, hooked area rug, television cabinet, television, queen-size bed, chest of drawers, and lamp number two.
    She tried not to think about the luscious antiques that had stayed with the house, all of which she had handpicked, refurbishing many herself. On her way out the door, she had stolen a plant, a ficus tree sitting in the foyer that had thrived under her care. She couldn't imagine Deke missing it; in hindsight, he hadn't been particularly attached to anything in the house that was living.
    The one thing that she most regretted leaving was a lovebirds tree ornament that Deke had given her the first Christmas they were together in college at Louisiana State University. He hadn't been able to understand why she'd cried, and she'd been too embarrassed to confess that as a child she'd always longed for a twinkling Christmas tree with lots of ornaments. That kind of admission would have led to questions about her family that she hadn't wanted to address. As far as Deke knew, she was an only child and both of her parents had died.
    Which was partly true.
    When she'd been gathering her clothes and personal effects, she had forgotten about the ornament, which she had kept wrapped in tissue paper in a chest in the attic. On some level she wanted the ornament as a reminder that she hadn't imagined Deke's love for her, but a stronger motivation was envisioning Sheena running across the ornament and having a belly laugh at Penny's sentimentality. The thought of that woman—or Deke—tossing the ornament as if it meant nothing kept Penny awake at nights. Someday she would figure out a way to get it back without either one of them knowing. She was too ashamed to let anyone know the ornament still meant something to her.
    Penny glanced around her little apartment, conceding it wasn't without its own charm: tall plaster ceilings, waist-high white bead board that ran throughout, worn wood floors that were always pleasingly warm because of the heat generated beneath her in the doughnut shop. And the windows—the windows were magnificent. Two in the living room, two in the bedroom, nearly floor to ceiling. The pair in the bedroom opened onto a Juliet balcony, encased by an intricate cast-iron railing.
    If only she had a Romeo to gaze down upon, instead of a giant revolving square doughnut.
    Penny shrugged out of her coat and dropped it onto the quilted coverlet on her bed. For a few seconds, she stared at the coat with envy—she'd had a long, disturbing day, and she'd rather have curled up on her bed and listen to the crowd through an open window than attend this party that Marie had planned. She stretched high on her toes and exhaled noisily. She couldn't back out now—it was nice of Marie to have planned it. And maybe the party would help her put some closure on her relationship with Deke.
    First things first. She phoned her landlord and left another message about the lightbulbs. The plain yogurt and dried bananas she'd eaten for lunch were long gone, and Caskey's would have few to no healthy choices on the menu, so she made a quick spinach and tofu salad and washed it down with mineral water and lemon. A long, hot shower would have felt great, but her water heater was on the fritz more often than not, so she settled for a long, lukewarm shower. Afterward, she took special care to smooth on scented lotion, dab almond oil on her pulse points, and make an attempt to tame her auburn curls with a round brush.
    Frowning into the mirror, she studied her reflection, something she'd been doing more of lately, she acknowledged. She wasn't about to accept blame for Deke's sleeping around, but after being tossed aside as carelessly as she had been, she did have her moments of self-doubt.
    Okay, make that hours of self-doubt. At thirty-two, her features were beginning to sharpen as youthful lipids left her skin. Sometimes when she looked in the mirror, she felt old; at other times,