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“Really?” I say, eager for the opportunity to change the subject. “It seems to me like you always have everything together.”

“I don’t know.” She exhales shakily. “My mind’s been all over the place lately. Between my classes and everything else, it’s getting hard to focus.”

“I understand,” I say, looking around the restaurant. I wonder, why exactly has Victoria’s head been all over the place? That doesn’t sound like her. She’s usually the most regimented of our bunch. “Anything been going on?”

“Just life,” she says, but I notice her face closes like a book. She fiddles with the straw inside her glass, refuses to meet my eyes. “My love life, rather.”

As with the others, Victoria doesn’t talk much about her personal life, but in mentioning it, she’s gifted me with a string I can pull.

“Are you dating someone new?” I ask.

“Was,” she says, sourly. “It didn’t work out.”

“What happened?”

“Things were going great. At least, I thought they were. We’d been seeing each other for a couple months, and I thought, with the holidays approaching, it might become official. That was, until I found out he was married.”

“You’re kidding.”

“That’s the problem with meeting guys online, I guess. They put out there whatever image of themselves they think is desirable, whether it’s true or not.”

“How did you find out?”

She exhales, as though she’s unsure she wants to share, but continues talking regardless. “His wife contacted me, as humiliating as that is.”

My cheeks burn at the thought of it. “What did she say?”

“I guess she had her suspicions and decided to go through his phone. She found his online dating profile, which led to me and all the messages we’d exchanged. Let’s just say, she wasn’t very kind in letting me know my boyfriend was already taken.”

“It’s not your fault,” I tell her, placing my hand over hers. “If he lied about being married, how could you know?”

“I still feel so guilty. And used. Here I was thinking our relationship might go somewhere, and all the while, I was his dirty little secret.”

“He’s the scumbag, not you.”

“Becca, food is up!” Nikki calls from the back.

“Give me just a second,” I tell her, wishing I didn’t have to leave the table at such an emotional moment.

I certainly empathize with Victoria. Like with April, I don’t feel equipped to give the best relationship advice because I have such little experience of my own.

However, I can imagine the feelings of betrayal and shame she must have felt when she realized her new boyfriend had been lying to her.

It’s the type of reaction I’d expected to see when I confronted Crystal, instead of the callous indifference she displayed.

Could this love triangle be enough to send Victoria over the edge?

This is more emotional turmoil than she has ever admitted to dealing with before.

A breakup always provides ample motive when it comes to crime fiction, but in reality?

Even with a broken heart, I’m not sure Victoria is capable of harming others.

When I return to the table with our food, I can tell Victoria’s been crying. She dabs at the corners of her eyes with the paper napkin.

“I’m such a mess,” she says. “You’re looking forward to a break from work, and all I’ve done is talk about my problems.”

“That’s what friends do,” I tell her. “You don’t have to apologize for letting me know what’s going on with you.”

“Maybe we should share more often. Talk about more than just writing,” she says. “I think that’s why the breakup is hitting me so hard. I’ve kept everything in instead of expressing how I really feel.”

“Pour it into your books,” I tell her.

“There’s an idea,” she says, laughing. “My next victim can be a cheating scoundrel.”

“Whatever works,” I joke back, then, with a shudder, I remember that, for at least one person in our group, “next victim” might not be a fictional remark at all. My heartbeat accelerates when I recognize how much is at stake.

“Thanks for letting me vent,” she says. “And please, don’t mention it to the others. I don’t want them judging me.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I say. “I take it they didn’t know about your boyfriend?”

“I’d mentioned him in passing,” she says.

“But they don’t know about the breakup, and I’d like to keep the details quiet.

Of course, Marley doesn’t know anything about it.

I’ve made an exception by letting her join the Mystery Maidens, but she’s still my student, and I have to keep that boundary clear. ”

I’m so excited she brought up Marley, I have to control my expression.

“She’s really talented, isn’t she?” I say, thinking about the first, and only, story she shared with the group. Rosebud. “Are your other students as talented?”

“Gosh, no. I mean, they all have potential. It takes some longer than others to get where they need to be, and I trust many of them will develop into talented writers, if they stick with it. Every now and then, you get a student with raw talent. That’s how Marley is, and it’s why I asked her to join us. ”

I try to ignore the pang of jealousy I feel inside. I wonder, which category does Victoria believe I belong in? Am I still developing my potential, or am I one of the few that’s naturally gifted? Shaking the questions off, I try to re-center the conversation onto Marley.

“Have you had her in class before?”

“No, which is surprising. She’s not even a writing major, if you can believe it,” she says. “I think she’s one of those students that doesn’t realize her true gifts until later, but I’m hoping she’ll reconsider. It would be such a talent to waste.”

Maybe Marley’s gift isn’t just writing but taking the stories of others and putting them into practice. After my separate conversations with each of the women, I’m even more convinced Marley, the one I know the least about, is the one behind this.

“I’m surprised you haven’t met before,” she continues. “Seeing as she lives so close.”

“Really?”

Victoria points out the window. “Her apartment is just a block away from here. You know that cute little row of buildings across from The Coffee Shop?”

“I had no idea,” I say. “That is close.”

Too close. If Marley is behind the most recent string of black hearts, it would be easy for her to watch my every move.

“Much nicer than the places we had to live in when we were in college, right?”

My old college apartment appears in my mind. I try to avoid it at all costs, but Victoria knows where it is. I told her about it once, and she informed me it’s currently under renovation. Being torn down and built into something shiny and new.

If it were up to me, they’d never rebuild.

“I need to get back to campus for my office hours,” she says, pushing her plate away. Her sandwich is only half eaten, and I assume her lack of appetite is linked to the recent heartache. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Please. You’ve given me an excuse not to work,” I say. “It’s been nice talking.”

“It has.”

She doesn’t have to remind me to keep our conversation private. In fact, all the women have confided in me this week, which makes me feel valued, and only slightly guilty for snooping into each of their lives.

Victoria leaves a hefty tip before she leaves, even though I tell her she doesn’t have to. I hurry through my side work and duck out of the restaurant before Nikki can corner me. I’ll be punished for anything I haven’t completed later. Right now, I have somewhere more important to be.

I hurry down the block and find an outdoor table at The Coffee Shop. Sure enough, there’s a trendy row of apartments right across the street. I can almost guess which one belongs to Marley. Tie-dye tapestries and incense pots litter one of the balconies. I’d bet this afternoon’s wages that’s hers.

She’s not home, and there’s no telling when she will be.

That’s fine. I have nothing but time to kill.