Free Waiting for Armando (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) by Judith K. Ivie

a stone. That’s you. This is me. Deal with it. I felt better than I had since entering the room. Donovan, a well-proportioned, but hefty, 250 pounds, shifted his weight onto the other foot and scratched his head once but otherwise confined himself to his role as note-taker. I sympathized with him wordlessly. Flunkies of the world, unite.
    Finally, Diaz spoke. “I understand that your full name is Sarah Kathryn Lawrence. Why do you go by Kate?”
    It’s a question I’ve answered a thousand times in my life so far. “If your last name was Lawrence, would you go by Sarah? It makes me sound like an Ivy League institution,” I said crossly. Then, “ Leilani ?”
    She had the grace to squirm. “My parents honeymooned in Hawaii.”
    I didn’t laugh. At last we had a bond. Diaz hastened to change the subject. “So as I understand it, you got fed up with trying to sell investors on putting their money into a losing proposition and decided to find work that would be less … demanding,” she summed up after a pause that I found insulting. I narrowed my eyes.
    “That’s one way of putting it. I prefer to think of it as choosing not to make how I pay my bills the focal point of my life.”
    “I hear that,” Donovan piped up unexpectedly, causing Diaz to throw him a quelling glance. He blushed to the roots of his hair and concentrated on his notepad.
    I smiled at the unfortunate Sergeant, relieved that I had acquitted my job change in someone’s eyes, at least, and could get on with recapping the morning’s events and my part in them. But Diaz continued her perplexing line of questioning.
    “So how is it going here?” she probed. “Have you adjusted successfully to your new situation?”
    Does this woman have time to kill or something? What does she care about my adjustment or my situation, past or present? “It is an adjustment, naturally, but that’s only to be expected. It was mostly the workspace thing that threw me a little bit, not having an office and all. But as far as I’m concerned, work is work. Pay me fairly, treat me with respect, and I’ll market small-cap stocks or type memos. It makes absolutely no difference to me.”
    For the first time Diaz permitted herself a small smile, knowing she had hit a nerve. “For someone who lies so badly, you are lying to yourself pretty good there.” She shot straight from the shoulder, igniting my temper. I didn’t know what this woman’s agenda was, but it was time to get control of this interview.
    I put both feet flat on the floor, composed my hands in my lap and said icily, “I appreciate your insights, Detective, as I would from anyone who has known me for less than ten minutes. However, I know your time is limited, and I’m sure you’d prefer to spend it moving this investigation forward instead of speculating on the progress of my adjustment. Perhaps we should get back to the events of this morning.” I sat back and gave her plenty of time to assess my reaction to her prying. The only break in the silence was Donovan sighing. No notes worth taking here, I presumed. I continued to wait.
    At length Diaz smiled and rose from her seat beside me, circling the desk to reposition herself less congenially in the chair behind it. “Sit, why don’t you ?” she murmured to Donovan in passing, waving at the chair she had just vacated. Donovan squeezed his gym-honed bulk past my knees and sat, gratefully wiggling the ankles that had borne his full weight for too long.
    So you entered the building at a few minutes past 7:00 a.m.,” Diaz recapped. “Then what? Just as it happened from your perspective, please.”
    Good , I thought. Message received. I launched accommodatingly into a precise review of my movements from the time I had arrived on the thirty-seventh floor, which okay, had been about five minutes earlier than I was saying here, until the time that nice   young patrolman and his partner had responded to Ingrid’s 911 call at a few minutes past