Whoever killed Ronny also stuck an X-Acto knife in his back as a finishing touch." His frown deepened.
"I don't get it, though. The blade wasn't long enough to do any real damage. It's the tire iron we found nearby that will turn out to be the murder weapon."
Nina stared at Gretchen, waiting for her response. Whatever she decided, she knew Nina would back her up. But Gretchen didn't know for certain whether Steve had taken the knife from the workshop, and she suddenly felt uncharacteristically protective of her former boyfriend. Gretchen couldn't share her suspicions with anyone, especially not with Matt, a cop. At least, not yet. Gretchen met Nina's gaze silently.
"I better get back," Matt said.
He strode away.
11
Nina rammed through the Impala's gears. "I really don't know why you insist on getting involved in Daisy's life,"
she said. "She's perfectly happy where she is."
Gretchen didn't know how anyone could be content to roam the Phoenix streets without a place to sleep or a guaranteed meal.
"I'm not convinced of that," Gretchen said. "This is a good time to check on her, since we have a few extra hours. And maybe she knows something about Ronny that will be helpful. The street people seem to be connected to the city's pulse."
She gazed out the window. "Like Native American drum signals. I don't know how they do it."
Daisy, a homeless drama queen, and her alcoholic friend, Nacho, had entered Gretchen's life right after she'd arrived in Phoenix, and she felt a special fondness for them, even though their refusal to accept her offers of assistance frustrated her beyond words. Traffic on Central Avenue edged slowly forward, the perpetual gridlock an inescapable fact of life in Phoenix. For once, Gretchen didn't mind. It gave her an opportunity to think about Ronny's death and Steve's connection to her knife.
"Why didn't you tell Matt that you think the knife belongs to you?" Nina asked from the driver's seat of her red Impala.
"I don't know. I'd like to wait a little longer. I just have a bad feeling about the whole thing."
"That's my girl. Your inherited psychic gifts are finally kicking in."
"Because I have a bad feeling about a murder, and my repair tool was used as a weapon?"
"Exactly." Nina punched the horn and slammed on the brakes when the car ahead of her stopped abruptly. "My nerves are shot," she said. "I think it's a combination of the heat and Ronny's murder."
"You should have let me drive."
"You're always lost. I'll take care of the driving. You pay attention to where we're going and start orienting yourself to Phoenix's streets. I've never known anyone with such a poor sense of direction."
"I haven't gotten lost for a long time."
"Right. Sure."
"There she is." Gretchen pointed. "Pull over."
Nina edged to the curb and idled in a no parking zone.
"Make it quick," she said, adjusting the bows in her hair. "I don't want a ticket."
As soon as the car stopped, all three dogs began prancing in the backseat, running into each other and yipping. Gobs of canine goo streaked the back windows. Nimrod and Tutu recognized Daisy immediately, and their chorus resounded at a nerve-racking level.
Daisy sat alone on a wooden bench wearing a baggy purple dress and a red baseball cap, and weeping into a corner of the dress.
"What's wrong, Daisy?" Gretchen said, getting out of the car and sitting down beside her.
"Oh, hey." Daisy looked up and sniffed, trying to compose herself. "I'm okay."
"Your bedroom is still waiting for you, whenever you feel like stopping by."
"Thanks, Gretchen, but it's hard to get noticed by talent scouts way up there by the mountain. I need to be on the streets. Visible. Besides, I have everything I need right here with me."
She motioned to a shopping cart wedged between the bench and an electrical pole. It was packed with old clothes and other miscellaneous items Daisy had found in her wanderings.
"Any luck with the acting yet?" Gretchen slung her arms across the back of the
"I don't get it, though. The blade wasn't long enough to do any real damage. It's the tire iron we found nearby that will turn out to be the murder weapon."
Nina stared at Gretchen, waiting for her response. Whatever she decided, she knew Nina would back her up. But Gretchen didn't know for certain whether Steve had taken the knife from the workshop, and she suddenly felt uncharacteristically protective of her former boyfriend. Gretchen couldn't share her suspicions with anyone, especially not with Matt, a cop. At least, not yet. Gretchen met Nina's gaze silently.
"I better get back," Matt said.
He strode away.
11
Nina rammed through the Impala's gears. "I really don't know why you insist on getting involved in Daisy's life,"
she said. "She's perfectly happy where she is."
Gretchen didn't know how anyone could be content to roam the Phoenix streets without a place to sleep or a guaranteed meal.
"I'm not convinced of that," Gretchen said. "This is a good time to check on her, since we have a few extra hours. And maybe she knows something about Ronny that will be helpful. The street people seem to be connected to the city's pulse."
She gazed out the window. "Like Native American drum signals. I don't know how they do it."
Daisy, a homeless drama queen, and her alcoholic friend, Nacho, had entered Gretchen's life right after she'd arrived in Phoenix, and she felt a special fondness for them, even though their refusal to accept her offers of assistance frustrated her beyond words. Traffic on Central Avenue edged slowly forward, the perpetual gridlock an inescapable fact of life in Phoenix. For once, Gretchen didn't mind. It gave her an opportunity to think about Ronny's death and Steve's connection to her knife.
"Why didn't you tell Matt that you think the knife belongs to you?" Nina asked from the driver's seat of her red Impala.
"I don't know. I'd like to wait a little longer. I just have a bad feeling about the whole thing."
"That's my girl. Your inherited psychic gifts are finally kicking in."
"Because I have a bad feeling about a murder, and my repair tool was used as a weapon?"
"Exactly." Nina punched the horn and slammed on the brakes when the car ahead of her stopped abruptly. "My nerves are shot," she said. "I think it's a combination of the heat and Ronny's murder."
"You should have let me drive."
"You're always lost. I'll take care of the driving. You pay attention to where we're going and start orienting yourself to Phoenix's streets. I've never known anyone with such a poor sense of direction."
"I haven't gotten lost for a long time."
"Right. Sure."
"There she is." Gretchen pointed. "Pull over."
Nina edged to the curb and idled in a no parking zone.
"Make it quick," she said, adjusting the bows in her hair. "I don't want a ticket."
As soon as the car stopped, all three dogs began prancing in the backseat, running into each other and yipping. Gobs of canine goo streaked the back windows. Nimrod and Tutu recognized Daisy immediately, and their chorus resounded at a nerve-racking level.
Daisy sat alone on a wooden bench wearing a baggy purple dress and a red baseball cap, and weeping into a corner of the dress.
"What's wrong, Daisy?" Gretchen said, getting out of the car and sitting down beside her.
"Oh, hey." Daisy looked up and sniffed, trying to compose herself. "I'm okay."
"Your bedroom is still waiting for you, whenever you feel like stopping by."
"Thanks, Gretchen, but it's hard to get noticed by talent scouts way up there by the mountain. I need to be on the streets. Visible. Besides, I have everything I need right here with me."
She motioned to a shopping cart wedged between the bench and an electrical pole. It was packed with old clothes and other miscellaneous items Daisy had found in her wanderings.
"Any luck with the acting yet?" Gretchen slung her arms across the back of the
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