Free Forgotten Place by LS Sygnet Page B

Shelly
grinned. 
    Crevan's voice floated into the
kitchen.  "So like I said, Devlin and Helen were just telling
us about the interview with Journey and that they think this thing
might not be related to the Southerby thing after all."
    Before I could brace myself for the mother
of all lectures on my health from Tony Briscoe, the responding
voice hit my ears, low, deep and definitely not one I wanted to
hear. 
    "Do we know for a fact that Linder isn't
tied to Danny Datello?  Has anyone thought to check this guy
out completely, Crevan?  Everybody's got an insurance
guy.  If Journey knew something, or learned something during
the time she dated Linder and Datello found out about it, he
could've pressured Linder to shut her up for good."
    My stomach pitched in revolt.  I shoved
the plate away from me and jumped up from the table.
    "Helen, what's wrong?" Shelly asked.
    "I think I'm gonna be sick."  I darted
away from the table toward the butler's pantry and into the
bathroom for the first floor guest room.  It was situated on
the opposite side of the house that I typically inhabited.  I
slammed the door and struggled to catch my breath after the scant
contents of dinner reappeared in the toilet.
    Orion was in the
house.  Oh God.  I can't do
this.  I can't –
    A soft knock sounded at the bathroom
door.  Either that or my heart was outside seeking entry so it
could jump back in my chest where it belonged.  I turned on
the water at the sink and pretended not to hear.
    Tapping resumed.  "Helen?"
    I splashed my face and
cupped water in one hand to rinse the nasty taste out of my
mouth.  Don't talk and they'll all go
away.  It's the Prozac giving a new twist on horrible
nightmares.  Shelly Finkelstein did not follow me out of my
kitchen.  She is not checking on me.  None of this is
real .
    Rationality vied for
dominance over my pitching emotions.  Knock it off, Helen.  Do you really want to give this
kind of importance to Orion in front of your…well, friends for lack
of a better word?  This is a case.  Plain and
simple.  It happens to matter to Orion because he wants
Datello behind bars.  Pull up your big girl panties and deal
with it.  You can convince them that the pickles didn't agree
with your stomach.  God knows, it's not far from the
truth.
    "I'm all right, Shelly.  I think I ate
too many pickles before everyone arrived," I called through the
door.  "Give me a minute and I'll be right out."
    "Are you sure?"
    "Ask Crevan.  He warned me to slow
down."
    Footsteps receded.  I
braced myself against the sink and sucked in a slow, shuddering
breath.  See?  Nothing to
this.  Are you gonna let these people believe that you had
nerves of steel when Mark Seleeby was hunting you like Salem's most
elusive witch, but you can't stand the sight of a guy who claims
to…
    Couldn't even let reason finish that
thought.  I patted my face dry and stiffened my spine.  I
could do this.  I would do this.
    Crevan lurked in the hallway when I stepped
out the door.
    "Helen?"
    "You warned me about the pickles."
    "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have insisted
that you eat so much.  You're not used to it are you?"
    "Tea and toast might've been wiser
choices.  Not to worry.  I've got the tea, and I'll
settle for a dinner roll to help quell the churning abyss now that
I'm empty again."
    "Are you sure that's all this is?" 
Crevan's eyes darted toward the kitchen door.  His voice
dropped to a low whisper.  "He's only here because of the
case, Helen."
    "It's fine."  Great
big whopping fat black lie.  My palms started sweating
profusely with every step toward the door.  I'm not sure what
I expected when I stepped through.  Pointed fingers and shouts
of Jezebel ? 
Cuffs and Miranda rights?  Maybe another lecture on my
self-neglect, or Orion hanging around for another round of let's see if Helen changed her
mind .
    I braced for the worst, part of my mind
aware that such a thing was impossible, and stepped into