“I never did ask. How…?” I shook my head, already mentally answering the question about how Luis Lipton had been asked to take care of me. “Never mind. Madam Zoltar handled that, too, right?”
“Right. I put many things in motion before she was killed, all gambling on the fact that you’d accept my offer. Every rich woman needs a solid attorney. There are all sorts of unsavory people in this world, looking for ways to steal your money. It was a just-in-case plan. Thank bloody God, too, or I’m not sure where that giraffe would have ended up.”
I made a face of outrage into the dimly lit entryway. “You bought me a giraffe?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I just wanted to gauge your emotional state.”
“My emotional state is freaked out.”
“Do not express any emotion one way or the other to these blokes. You are stone, Stevie Cartwright. Stone. In the meantime, what can I do to make you feel better as we pass the time?”
“Tell me how you died. No! Wait! Don’t say anything. Just nod yes or no. Scratch that. Sorry. You can’t nod. Just grunt if the answer is yes. I bet you died while you were hanging upside down in a dirty warehouse somewhere in like, Germany. You know, the kind with a lone light bulb swinging from the ceiling because of some unseen draft. I bet they were torturing you—you know, like maybe while upside down, your wrists cuffed, your fingers were hanging in a dirty puddle of water and they used jumper cables to shock you into telling them where the diamonds were. Am I close?”
“Jumper cables are so old-spy torture.”
But I’d lost my zeal for guessing how he’d died. As more of the officers centered in on the crumbling dining room, talking and pointing, I had to wonder what else might have been planted and by whom.
“What do you suppose they’re looking for? I mean, if the murder weapon was her scarf, what’s left?”
“I don’t know. Your diabolical plan drawn on paper, perhaps? Local law enforcement is below my pay grade. I’m used to espionage and intrigue. It’s bigger, more complex, messier than just plain old small-town murder.”
“Well, la-dee-da. You’re so fancy,” I said with an eye roll.
“I’m just stating the facts. When I’m in the height of a mission, I’m looking for codes for bombs and Russian submarine navigational longitudes and latitudes. But I’ll learn to simplify.”
Leaning back as another police officer took off up the stairs, I fought a tremble in my voice and said, “Do me a favor. Make sure Belfry calls this Luis Lipton to be sure he doesn’t miss our meeting at three. I have a feeling he’s more necessary than ever. You stay here. It’s too much with you in my ear when I need to concentrate, and if Luis is as good as you say he is, I won’t have to say much anyway. Plus, Bel’s never very good without me. He’s a smart aleck, but he’s a sensitive one. Also, tell Bel to stay put. No matter what, he doesn’t leave the house, okay? I want him safe, not locked up in some evidence locker. You’ll look after him, won’t you?”
“Of course, but Lipton’s, as you Americans say, a shark. He’ll have you out in no time. Belfry will hardly know you’re gone. I give you my word.”
Officer Nelson approached me, his tall frame dwarfing mine. “Miss Cartwright, please come with me.”
I smiled coyly at him. “Are we going for a ride in your shiny cruiser? Will you turn the lights and sirens on?”
“No.”
“Aw, you’re no fun. Sandwich…er, I mean, Officer Paddington offered to the last time I was needlessly taken to your place of business. You could learn a thing or two from him. He’s super easygoing. You, on the other hand? So tense, rigid even. Ease up there, Cowpoke. You’ll get wrinkles.”
Lifting his clean-shaven chin, Officer Nelson pointed toward my front door. “After you.”
Okay, obviously the good times weren’t rolling with Officer Nelson anymore. I had a glimmer of hope he considered me innocent back at the inn, but now he looked like he was pretty sure I was involved. Who wouldn’t think I was somehow involved when I had Madam Z’s necklace?
So I did as I was told. Even I knew when to shut up. Well, mostly. As I descended the stairs with the aid of Officer Detached, my stomach twisted and turned in anxious, empty turmoil.
“Stay tough, Stevie. I’m on it. And if they break out the jumper cables, remember to clench your teeth. It makes the pain easier to withstand. Don’t ever let ’em see you sweat!” Win called behind me.
Yeah, yeah. Easy for Spy Guy to say. He could jump rope with his arms.
I sat in the interrogation room of my hometown police station under the most heinous of glaring fluorescent lights beside my swanky lawyer, Luis Lipton, in his seven-hundred-dollar-an-hour pinstriped gray suit, and stared down the detective across from me.
Oddly, the players were a lot like they were on TV.