“Maybe Madam Zoltar gave him a reading he didn’t like. Maybe she told him by the time he was forty he was going to look like Jabba the Hutt. In fact, maybe those tarot cards were for him.”
“I’m going to ignore your petty behavior and move right along. Forrest would no sooner kill someone than I would wear anything Michael Kors.”
“What do you have against Michael Kors?”
“I hated him on Project Runway. He was a total turd.”
“Absolutely a valid, sane reason to rule out your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Now quit interrupting. So, we still need to find a way to figure out if the police have MZ’s Senior Alert necklace in evidence, or if she didn’t wear it the day she was murdered, or if it even matters other than the fact that if she pressed the alert button, she knew she was in trouble. Also, we have that pen. The Montblanc. Why would MZ have an expensive pen like that? Did a customer drop it? Or did her killer? I think I should bring it to the police and demand they test it for fingerprints. The trouble is, how will I explain how I found it and they didn’t? What kind of horse-and-pony show are they running, anyway?”
“It could be a crucial piece of evidence or it could be nothing. Let’s set aside the pen for the moment,” Win suggested.
“Oh and BTW, I got a voice mail from the Ebenezer Falls Police today. I have to have my lawyer meet me at the station at three sharp for more questioning. It’s eight now. That gives us seven hours to grab coffee and question Dan and Liza. But I wouldn’t count on lasting even seven minutes, with me as the interviewer. Because—presumed guilty before I’ve even been arrested. Oh, and last but not least, now that everyone in town suspects I’m a murderer, even my tragic love affair, Tito, make a note that tacos are off the menu for lunch.”
“And Stevie has a date with Forrest tonight at seven, for dinner in town,” Belfry added, settling on the heated seat with a happy sigh.
I blanched. I wasn’t going to mention that. My personal life was mine. I think that was like rule number eighty-one in our handbook under the chapter What Stevie Will Do for Some Cash and What She Won’t.
“Do you then?” Win said in that brisk manner he had when something was troubling him.
“I do.” And that was all I was saying. Win didn’t appear to like Forrest much, and that was fine. I did.
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with our investigation, I hope you enjoy your meal. I’m sure Ebenezer Falls makes a delicious cheeseburger and fries.”
Well, okay then. Someone was still angry with me, and a food snob to boot. Fine. Cold shoulder or not, I was determined to make today as pleasant as possible.
Because—convertible! Ain’t nothin’ gonna bring me down.
I pulled up to the Strange Brew, ignoring the sly glances and nudges people were giving each other when I hopped out with my head held high and entered the coffee shop.
There was the hushed ripple of awareness I seemed to bring with me wherever I went before the people in line and the surrounding tables turned their backs on me, dismissing my existence with chilly rejection.
Which was just fine. I didn’t need Ebenezer Falls to love me, but boy would they be sorry when I caught the real murderer. I saw some apology casseroles in my future.
As I passed a table, the local newspaper was strewn across the surface with the headline: Local Medium Strangled—Killer Still At Large.
Closing my eyes, I took deep breaths before opening them and skimming the first paragraph of the story, which was all I needed to know. This was now officially a murder investigation—which meant that harmless questioning this afternoon was likely going to be more of an interrogation.
Squaring my shoulders, I went to the back of the line and squeezed in. I’d wait my turn for coffee and I’d do it with no guilt. I was not a murderer. Not, not, not.
“Well, if it ain’t Ebenezer Falls’s newest reason to gossip,” Chester Sherwood chirped when he sidled up to me and nudged my shoulder with a wink.
I wiggled a finger at him and gave him a playfully admonishing look. “You know you had a hand in that, mister. In fact, as I recall, you were the first one to call me a murderer. Something about elephants and fandangos, right?”
He shrugged his shoulders and gave me a sheepish grin. “Aw, I was just lookin’ out for my Tina. I overreacted. Lemme make it up to ya.”
Tilting my head, I gave him a narrow-eyed gaze of skepticism. “What brought this on? Yesterday you were all ‘Book ’em, Danno’ and today you’re singing ‘We Are The World’?”
“The boy. He told me I should mind my manners, and he’s right. Says he’s takin’ ya out tonight and he won’t have his gramps callin’ his date a killer. So whaddya want? It’s on me.”