Love Can Be Murder

Penny!"
    From the darkened entryway, she could see his office door on the second floor, just beyond the landing. The door was slightly ajar, spilling light into the hallway. The muffled noise of the television sounded. She could picture him reared back in his chair, his feet on his desk while he talked on the phone with one eye on a ball game.
    She worked her mouth back and forth in sudden inspiration—if she was careful, she could get to the attic and remove her lovebirds ornament before he even realized she was in the house.
    She slipped off her sandals and carried them as she crept up the wood stairs in semidarkness. Because she knew where all the creaky spots were, she was able to make her way up silently, although the floor felt gritty beneath her bare feet. Her heart rattled against her breastbone, but she conceded a thrill of excitement to be doing something so illicit.
    When she reached the second floor, she held her breath as she stole by Deke's office door, sure that any second he was going to emerge and blast her for snooping around. But she made it past the door undetected. Next was the master bedroom. She couldn't resist a glance inside, but she grimaced at the unmade bed and piles of clothes on the floor. Their framed wedding picture on the dresser had been replaced with a picture of Sheena and Deke.
    "He could have at least bought a new frame," she muttered. On impulse she walked in and picked up the picture, hurt and anger bubbling in her chest anew. The picture had been taken on a carriage ride—in New Orleans, no doubt.
    Deke had never taken her on a carriage ride.
    In the photo, Sheena looked pouty, and Deke looked...pained, as if his balls were in a bind.
    Feeling malevolent, she placed the picture frame on the floor, then slipped her foot into her sandal and ground her heel against the glass until it cracked, sending a splinter across their faces. Then she positioned the photo facedown so that it appeared as if it might have been knocked off by a flying tube top.
    With her ears piqued, she stepped back out into the hallway. Hearing nothing but the television, she turned toward the narrow stairway leading to the attic. A pull chain to a bare lightbulb provided just enough light to climb to the top. Penny jiggled the glass knob to the attic door and pushed it open, wincing when it groaned loudly. She waited a few seconds, but when she didn't hear Deke pounding her way, she stepped into the attic.
    Every woman should have an attic, a place to put things that were special and not for public display. Unfortunately, she hadn't had the family keepsakes and heirlooms that would have filled up the large space beautifully. Instead she'd had an old calico chair losing its stuffing that she'd never gotten around to reupholstering, a large framed mirror that was cracked in the corner but had been too nice to put in the Dumpster, and a chest of drawers painted pale blue that had never seemed to fit anywhere in the house.
    She stepped onto the linoleum she'd laid down, thinking her feet would be black by the time she left. She'd have to take a shower before B.J. showed up... but then if he had bedded Sheena, he probably didn't mind dirty feet.
    The top drawer of the chest held mostly linens she'd bought at estate sales. She rummaged until her hand closed around the tissue paper holding the lovebirds ornament. For old times' sake, she unwrapped the pewter ornament and ran her finger over the white enameled birds holding a ribbon in their beaks that said Deke and Penny, forever.
    Biting her lip at their naïveté, she conceded that they'd been happier then... before they'd had grown-up problems. With a sigh, she rewrapped the ornament and put it in her purse, then retraced her steps to the darkened hallway, where she tiptoed past Deke's office door to the top of the stairs. Then she stepped back into her sandals.
    "Deke!" she yelled, stomping as if she were only now coming up the stairs. "It's Penny! I got your messages and thought I'd just stop by. Deke?" She walked to his office door and rapped loudly. "Deke?" She pushed open the door. "Deke, it's P—" Her voice died as her brain tried to process the scene before her. The television was on, airing a cheesy beer commercial. The phone on the desk was off the hook, ergo the busy signal.
    And Deke... Deke was on the floor on his back, arms and legs askew. He still wore the European-cut suit and the trendy silk tie, but his white shirt was now red... from the