She certainly had no time to actually think about Wezley Butterfield’s visit, or everything she’d learned about Eddie’s death. Which seemed to be nothing. When she’d investigated Rex March’s murder, she’d felt as if she’d moved from clue to clue, but this seemed to be a big pile of unrelated incidents. Or maybe it was a pile of puzzle pieces and she simply needed to put the pieces together. Despite Nikki’s busy day, she hoped to make it back to Roxbury in time to catch Rocko, and allow a few minutes to dress, do her hair, and put on makeup for the evening. Nikki walked in the front door to find Victoria discussing, with Amondo, the kind of glassware she wanted at the bar that evening. She had a beautiful, expensive collection of colored Depression glassware that she used only on special occasions. Or when the mood struck her. Tonight, apparently, it did. “I don’t know that we need to serve martinis,” she was saying. “Do we know if the Pinkett Smiths even drink martinis?”
