Free Pink Balloons and Other Deadly Things (Mystery Series - Book One) by Nancy Tesler Page B

thought, for an employee-—to introduce him to a buyer. When I’d protested, Rich had put me off, saying Erica was a “touchy-feely” kind of person, that she did that with everyone. So on that snowy night in November, I asked Rich if he was taking touchy-feely Erica with him. When he didn’t answer, I knew. I threw myself at him, my fists pounding on his chest while tears of fury and despair gushed from my eyes. The next thing I knew I was in a snow-bank, with my head a quarter of an inch away from a lamp post.
    “Remember something?”
    My reverie was abruptly terminated by Brodsky’s quiet voice. “It’s not significant. He didn’t mean...it was—-brought on by unusual circumstances.”
    “So are most murders. Want to tell me about it?”
    Rich had accused me of murder. Why was I so reluctant to implicate him? “No,” I said. “I don’t.”
    “Okay.” He got to his feet. As he passed the computer desk, he paused, fingering a set of sensors hanging off one of the hooks. “What’re these for?”
    “They measure EDR-—electrodermal response. Level of stress. Kind of like a lie detector.”
    “Looks like we’re kind of in the same business.”
    “No. What I do reduces stress.”
    This time he did smile. “Think about what I said. You don’t owe this man a thing anymore.”
    I remained silent.
    “And for the record,” he added, “while I believe you wished Ms. Vogel drawn and quartered, I don't believe you did anything about it.”
    My own EDR went through the roof. “Why all of a sudden?”
    “Instinct. And the fact that it would have been very easy for you to have thrown suspicion on your husband just now. But you didn’t. Let me know if you hear from him.”
    “I will.”
    After he left, I started shaking again. But this time it was with relief.
    “DAVE’S CLEANERS WAS in the Cahill’s’ driveway. I told the police that. I told them about you being parked at the Millers’ too, Carrie. I had to. You can’t withhold information, you know. It would’ve made me an accessory. It’s not that I think you did it, you understand—-though, God knows, no one would blame you if you’d cut her head off.”
    I was sitting at my desk in my home office going through my mail. I held the phone away from my ear as Sue Tomkins went through her litany. Sue wasn't one of my favorite people. Over the years her efforts at friendship with me had increased in direct proportion to the success of Rich’s business. It didn’t surprise me that I hadn’t heard word one from her since he’d left.
    When she finally took a breath I jumped in. “Sue, I appreciate your—-uh-—interest, but what I really need you to do is go over in your mind what you saw on Saturday. See if you can remember anything else.”
    “Why do you care? I should think you'd be out partying.”
    I kept my voice solemn. “Having a killer running around loose isn’t my idea of a reason to celebrate.”
    I could tell from her silence that this was an angle she hadn’t contemplated.
    “I—-I assumed it was a crime of passion directed at Erica,” she murmured after a minute. “I hadn’t considered the possibility there’s some loony-tune out there.”
    “Well, just between you and me, that’s the feeling in the department,” I prevaricated conspiratorially. “I’m kind of working with the police, because I was there just a while before she was killed. They keep asking me if I saw anything unusual-—you know, a car or something that didn’t belong. You’re such an observant person,”-- when all else fails, try flattery-- “I thought you might have noticed something I missed.”
    “Dave’s Cleaners. That’s all I remember.” Then, with a note of suspicion in her voice. “How could you be working with the police? Aren't you...” She let it hang.
    “What?”
    “Well...a suspect?”
    I forced a laugh. “Come on, Sue, I may’ve hated Erica, but I'm no killer. The police know that.”
    “Really.”
    I held on to my