I drained my wineglass, because if I was going to have to talk to Minka, I needed fortification. On the way across the room I gave myself a pep talk to remind myself that if Minka could shed the slimmest ray of light on recent events, we—I mean, the police—might be able to track down the killer.
I straightened my shoulders and gritted my teeth. I could do this. I approached the buffet table. Karalee saw me first and her eyes lit up. I grabbed hold of her arm in a show of fondness, sure, but really I just wanted to keep her from running away. It wasn’t easy. She was ready to escape Minka, but I was even more determined to keep her here. I needed a shield.
“Hey, Minka,” I said jovially, like a complete fraud. “How’s your head feeling?”
She whipped around and her mouth gaped. Not a pretty sight. I would never eat guacamole again.
Her upper lip twisted in a snarl. “You’re joking, right? Am I supposed to believe you care?”
Today, in honor of the dearly departed, she wore her favorite clothing mash-up: pleather, spandex, and animal prints. Her pants were black and brown cougar spots and her short shiny jacket was a bold zebra print. But the most disturbing part of her outfit was what it didn’t cover up. Two wide inches of pale belly fat were exposed between the jacket and the pants.
“Of course I care,” I said, swallowing my distaste. “I saved your life, remember?”
“No, you didn’t. You’re so full of shit.”
What could I say? She was right. “But I just hate the idea that anyone might be attacked here at BABA. And then poor Layla was killed two days later. I mean, don’t you think that’s scary? That could’ve been you.”
“Whatever.” She glanced at Karalee and rolled her eyes.
“I’ve got to go,” Karalee said quickly, and tried to break away.
“No,” I said, jerking her back to my side. I exhaled from the exertion. “So, Minka, here’s what I was wondering about the other night. Do you remember hearing anything right before you were hit? Like heavy footsteps, maybe. Or somebody humming or whistling. Were there any sounds coming from any of the offices?”
Did I sound as big an idiot as I felt? Probably.
She wrinkled her nose. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I didn’t hear anything besides the usual crap-ass chamber music coming from Layla’s office.”
Crap-ass? Layla had played pretty classical music. Figures Minka would hate that.
“What about odors?” I persisted. “Do you remember smelling anything unusual? You know, like perfume? Men’s cologne? Minty fresh breath? Sweat, maybe? Garlic?”
“God, you’re so bizarre.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” I said.
“That’s a go-fuck-yourself.”
“Minka, that’s rude,” Karalee said.
“Yeah, well, fuck you, too.”
I gave up on the niceties. “What the hell were you doing in the hall, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be teaching a class?”
“Screw you,” she said with a sneer. “I’ve had it with the third degree. I might owe you my life, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with your crap.”
“Look, I just—”
She flipped me the finger and stomped off.
So, maybe it was a little bizarre, asking her about sounds and odors. After all, she probably couldn’t get past her own overwhelming sulfur scent. Or was that brimstone? Whatever it was, she reeked like the spawn of Beelzebub that she was.
“Hey, I remember smelling something that night,” Karalee said, her forehead creased in thought. “It was like, I don’t know, incense or something. Huh. I didn’t think about it until you asked that question. Huh.”
She was starting to sound like Ned with the huh and the huh. She shrugged and walked away.
“That seemed to go well,” Derek said, approaching me on my blind side. He handed me another glass of red wine.
“Thanks,” I said and took a big sip. The perfect remedy for a Minka-induced headache. “I didn’t realize you were watching. I’m so glad I had a witness.”
“I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you walk over and talk to her.”
“Were you hoping to break up a catfight?”
“I only dreamed,” he said sardonically.
I shook my head and took another sip of wine. “She’s so stupid. What was I thinking?”
His eyes narrowed in on me. “Yes, what were you thinking?”
“I don’t like that look you’re giving me,” I said, and tried to stare him down. But his gaze was unyielding. He was, after all, a professional. “Okay, fine. I thought she might have some clue about the night she was attacked.”
“Have we not had this conversation before?”
My shoulders slumped, but I snapped back to attention. “Look, I just want to make sure that BABA is safe. You can’t blame me. First Minka, then Layla. And then Gabriel over the weekend, not that he had anything to do with the attacks here. But it just makes me worry that I’m—oh, I don’t know—something like a murder magnet.”
There, I’d said it.
He shook his head. “Darling Brooklyn, you can’t tell a lie to save your life. But I must hand it to you. You never give up trying.”
My jaw dropped. “You think I’m lying?”
“Yes, I think you’re lying,” he said easily, and sipped his wine. “Because you are.”