Free Death Stretch by Ashantay Peters Page A

champagne flutes?”
    I felt heat flush my cheeks. Sure, my love life sucked, which meant it couldn't get worse. See? Proof being I sat surrounded by men. Not by choice, but still.
    Maybe I’d been wrong not to call a lawyer or at least Ginger before leaving the house. The evidence, falsified though it was, piled up. Dirk didn’t think I was guilty, did he?
    Dirk didn't push the line of questioning surrounding my wine glasses. Instead, he shoved the evidence bag holding the papers at me. “Look familiar?”
    “Yes. You showed me those earlier. Where were those found?”
    “Same place.”
    “That's pretty cliché, don't you think? Do you really believe I'm that stupid?”
    Allen set two coffees on the desk and handed change to Dirk. “I can vouch for Katie. She almost flunked science more than once.”
    I fumbled the cup. “Thanks, I think.”
    Dirk relaxed into his chair and sipped coffee. “Really? And now she works an Auto-CAD for a construction company. That's right, isn't it, Ms. Sheridan?”
    I closed my eyes, knowing where his questions headed.
    “That type of work takes some mathematical ability, doesn't it?”
    “So I'm a late bloomer. Besides, math and science aren't the same thing.”
    “Really?”
    “Not to me. Look, ask me your questions so I can get to work, okay? I'm going to be late as it is. We've got a big job and I don't have time to waste.”
    Dirk leaned forward, slapping his palm against his desk. I grabbed my coffee cup. “You think a murder investigation is a waste of time?”
    “Questioning me is, because I don't know anything.” I leaned forward and we were nose to crooked nose. “And by the way, doesn't it take more time than a few days to get lab results? How did you know what to look for and why did you come to me?”
    “Preliminary results point to ricin.”
    Baloney and more baloney, but I knew I wouldn't get answers going head to head with Dirk. Someone with clout pushed the lab or Dirk had good friends there.
    “Someone planted that bag and papers at my house. I never saw that stuff before, and I bet you won't find my prints. So ask me your questions, I'll give you my answers, and we'll both be on our way. Unless you want to hand me a phone so I can call a lawyer.”
    “Fine.” Dirk lifted his index finger. “You were within proximity to the deceased before he died of poison found in your home.”
    He added his middle finger. “You attempted resuscitation, which could have been a cover to introduce the poison.”
    Another finger joined the rest. “Your best friend is being blackmailed after an affair with the victim.”
    The final finger rose. “We had a tip.” He lowered the accusatory digits. “Sounds like means, motive, and opportunity to me. Settle in. We're going to be here a while.”
    “A tip?” I'm not everyone's idea of a best friend, but who would accuse me? My brain tried to embrace the inconceivable idea. Only one answer remained possible.
    “I’m being framed.” My voice sounded weak even to me, and I knew I’d better call a lawyer, pronto. Not that I had money for an attorney. The situation sucked.
    “That's one possibility.” He sipped again.
    My heart pounded, and I couldn't sit still. Fidgeting probably looked bad, but I couldn't help myself. “I don't even know how the poison was administered, so how can I be the killer?”
    Dirk's lips turned up at the corners. “Look, I think you’re the last person to kill with poison or any other weapon. I don’t believe you’re a murderer, but my boss isn’t so sure.”
    I blinked. “Why would someone frame me?”
    “I'm hoping you can tell me.” He tossed his empty cup into the trash and grabbed a pen. “Let's go over Saturday's events. Maybe you've forgotten something important.”
    I covered my groan with a long sip of coffee. This day sucked already, and the clock hands weren’t anywhere close to noon. I capitulated and dredged my brain for answers. Not because Dirk’s eyes were so