Free Death Stretch by Ashantay Peters

throat all closed up, so I nodded. Dirk's cold, formal demeanor scared me. A lot.
    “What do you know about botanical poisons?”
    “Nothing. Well, except that Allen told me you're here looking for castor beans.”
    Dirk's look sent Allen scurrying from the room.
    “We suspect ricin, or some form of botanical poison killed Morgan Anderson last Saturday. Care to revise your story?”
    “I don't have a story. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have castor beans.” And the final don't. “I don't have a reason to change anything I've told you. I'm innocent.”
    Good thing I wasn’t a criminal because his disbelieving look had me wanting to throw myself on the mercy of the court. Sheesh. He excelled at his job.
    One of the officers called Dirk into the kitchen and I sat alone pondering my fate. Castor beans are poisonous? Who knew? All I did know for sure was that I didn't possess the seeds or beans or whatever they were. I didn't even have lettuce in my refrigerator.
    Dirk walked in so quietly he stood next to me before I realized he was there. He held up an evidence bag holding another plastic bag with a half inch of powder in the bottom. “Is this yours?”
    Still unable to speak, I shook my head no.
    Then he showed me another evidence bag holding several typewritten pages. “What about these papers?”
    Again, a head shake answer.
    “Ms. Sheridan, we are taking you in for questioning regarding the murder of Morgan Anderson. If you feel you need a lawyer, you may call one from the station.” He held out a hand. “Come with me, please?”
    “What, you’re not reading me my rights?”
    “You’re not under arrest.” The unstated “yet” hovered like an armed bomb. I stood. My stomach dropped with gravity. My legs wobbled me toward the door. Dirk walked on one side and another officer flanked me. As if Jell-O legs could take off running.
    Half my neighbors pretended to pick up newspapers that hadn't arrived yet and the others looked out their windows. I ducked into the backseat of the cruiser before anyone could do that embarrassing hand-on-top-of-the-head thing to me.
    At the station, Allen opened my door and we entered together. He set me up at Dirk's desk with a cup of the worst coffee I'd ever tasted.
    Dirk sat and watched me grimace my way through another sip of synthetic java. “That's from the night crew. If you wait a few minutes, someone will make a new pot.”
    “Will the new batch be any better?”
    “Not really.”
    I pushed the paper cup to the side. “Why did you pull me in? No, wait, why did you stage a search so early in the morning?”
    He considered me for a moment then answered. “I figured you're not much of a morning person. Sometimes we get lucky when we roust at dawn.”
    “Lucky? I can think of better ways to get lucky in the morning.” I heard snorts of laughter in the squad room and realized what I said. “I mean, I don't think your waking me up at dawn is lucky.”
    The laughter increased, and Dirk raised one eyebrow.
    “I don't mean lucky, lucky, I just mean...crap. Never mind.”
    “I see I was right about your inability to function before coffee.” He turned and called Allen over. “Get us a couple to go from Dora’s.” He handed Allen a few dollars, stopped and added a fiver. “Better make hers an extra large.”
    “Gee, big spender.”
    “Count yourself lucky that you're getting any at all.”
    Nice. The squad room laughter wasn't at my expense this time.
    The teasing light left Dirk's eyes. “Look, let's get to it. I've got a case to crack.”
    He tossed the evidence bag on the desk. “We found this powder in your home. Any idea how the bag got there?”
    I didn't touch the evidence, didn't even prod it with a pencil. “I've never seen it before.” I looked at him. “Where was it found?”
    He hesitated. “In the kitchen. Cabinet above the fridge.”
    “Heck, that's so hard to get at, I use it to store stuff I never use.”
    “Like crystal