La Vida Vampire

I was so stunned by the revelation that Stony had an ironclad one, I followed March into an interview room in a fog. Until I saw the clear plastic cup of ice on the table, a good inch of water melted in the bottom. Then I got it. No wonder March asked me about having my attorney present. He’d known this was more than a trip to ID Stony. Saber had, too, the swine. Was this another interview or an interrogation? I wasn’t sure of the difference, but strongly considered calling a halt right then and there and phoning the emergency number I’d scribbled on Sandy’s card. I decided to go with the flow unless things took a bad turn.

Dumb move, right? A too-stupid-to-live move that Maggie and Sandy would have my head for if they found out about it. Thing is, I’d held my own so far, and I hated waiting until who knew when for a lawyer to show. Besides, I really wanted to get to my dance class at eight. That was my normal routine. That was control. The sooner we got down to business, the better. We took the same seats we had last time I was here. Was that just yesterday? After the routine of recording the date, time, and names of three of us present in the room, March followed procedure to the letter and asked if I ’d still talk with them without my attorney present.

My bravado faded, and I tried not to audibly gulp as I answered, “For now.”

“Very well,” he said. “The man you identified as threatening you and Yolette Fournier is Victor Gorman. You recognize the name, Ms. Marinelli?”

“I don’t,” I said, but my voice sounded a touch shaky. Shakier than I wanted it to. “He really has an alibi?”

March didn’t answer me. Instead, he opened a file folder on the table. “For the record, tell me again about your run-ins with Mr. Gorman.”

Ire and self-preservation flared. “Detective, let’s be clear that he created the run-ins.”

March gave me a rather condescending nod, and I went through the events of Monday and Tuesday again, including the confrontation at Scarlett’s.

“Tell me what you did on Wednesday night,” he said next.

“Played bridge until nine and went home.”

“Where?” March pressed.

“Where was bridge club? At Shelly Jergason’s house in Crescent Beach.”

“Where were the Fourniers staying?” Saber asked, arms still crossed on his chest. I angled my chair so I could more easily look at both March and Saber. “According to Gomer—I mean Holland Peters— they were staying in some fancy neighborhood, but he didn’t say where.”

March leaned marginally closer. “When did you have that information?”

I tapped my chin, even though I wanted to squirm. Didn’t take psychic senses to feel where this was headed.

“Holland told me on Tuesday night. He said the Fourniers told him. He also said Stony followed the Fourniers to their car on Tuesday night after the tour, and that he, Holland that is, followed Stony.”

“Where were the Fourniers parked?” Saber shot.

“I don’t know. They all headed toward the visitor’s center parking garage.”

“Must’ve been quite a parade,” March said. “Saber asked this once. I’m asking again. Where exactly were the Fourniers staying, Ms. Marinelli?”

I shook my head. “I don’t have a clue. If Holland knew, he didn’t tell me.”

“The fact is,” March said tersely, “the Fourniers were renting a house in your friend Shelly Jergason’s neighborhood.”

“They were?”

“And Ms. Jergason remembers mentioning these people at your bridge club.”

My jaw dropped. “The people that yelled at each other? That was the Fourniers?”

“Cut the act, Ms. Marinelli. How long have you known Holland Peters?” Saber fired at me.

“I don’t know him,” I said, panic warring with patience. “It’s more like know of him. Holland—who I still called Gomer then because I didn’t know his name—was on the Monday and Tuesday tours. When everyone else left Tuesday, I talked to the mystery writers who took the tour, then started walking home. He found me and asked to walk with me. We saw Maggie, my roommate, at the door to my building. When Holland leaned over to help her pick up the stuff she’d dropped, I saw the gun stuck in his waistband at the small of his back. That made me nervous, so I hustled Maggie inside, and that’s the last I saw of him.”

“He hasn’t called you?” March asked.

“Why would he?”

“Why would he walk you home?” Saber snapped.

I shrugged. “He said he wanted to be sure I got home all right. That Stony might come back or one of Stony’s buds might be watching me.”

Saber persisted. “So he told you he was protecting you?”

“Actually, he said something like his mother would have his hide if he let a lady who’d been threatened walk home alone.”

“Gallant of him,” Saber sneered. “Did you feel safer?”

“Not particularly, but I didn’t feel un safe until I saw his gun.”

“What kind was it?” March asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know modern guns.”

March arched a brow. “When did you last handle a firearm?”

Soon as he asked, the memory blossomed. Unworthy of me as it was, I leaned back in the uncomfortable chair to enjoy the moment.