Free Death Stretch by Ashantay Peters Page B

sexy—a retainer would drain my bank account and max out my credit cards.
    But the thought I may need an attorney stayed front and center in my consciousness.

Chapter Eight
    Allen gave me a ride home in his car, not in a Granville Falls cruiser. I sat looking at my house, too tired to move. My sweet bungalow didn't seem like a refuge anymore. Especially because my internal alarm system sounded loud and clear.
    “You guys locked up when you hauled me in to jail, right?”
    “When we invited you for questioning, but yeah, we locked everything.”
    The door wasn’t wide open, but didn’t look shut tight, either. “So Allen, why is my front door not closed all the way?”
    He squinted at my door then phoned for back up. We sat tight until a cruiser showed up followed by Dirk in his unmarked. I stayed in the car while they searched my house for intruders. The all clear sounded and I walked through every room, looking for anything out of place while the patrol guys checked with my neighbors. They were likely all playing Bingo at St. Bartholomew, but I kept my mouth shut. Ya never know.
    Dirk leaned against the door, watching me check for missing items. He knew better than me that I should look for stuff added, not taken. My house existed in remodel mode. Anything could have been tucked anywhere. That thought gave me pause, but nobody would chase me from my bungalow.
    He pushed away from the wall. “You okay?”
    “The Sphinx speaks.”
    Looking every inch Cop Sexy, he sauntered toward me. “I guess I deserve that, huh?” His hands slid into his back pockets. Lucky hands. “Look, I have a job to do. I really had no choice but to bring you in.”
    “I get that. I know it looks bad, but I didn't kill Morgan.”
    “Everyone in the room heard you say you needed to go to the bathroom. If you were trying to be furtive, your ploy didn't work.”
    Was that a little smile I saw on his lips? Nope, guess not. I got an idea. “My exit from the room gave someone opportunity to kill Morgan if her mat lay close to his. Then she could blame me. I wish I knew who started the rumor that I spoke with Morgan before I left.”
    “So do I. Morgan had already been dosed when you passed him.”
    I shivered. “How do you know?”
    “We've got the time of death. The ME worked her way backwards. Given the probable poison type, she extrapolated the dose size and gave us a closer time line.”
    “So you knew I wasn’t the killer.”
    “No, I didn't. Still don't. The timeline doesn't rule you out, because he was poisoned at the start of or during class.”
    His blunt words shocked me into speechlessness.
    Dirk moved closer and smoothed his palm over my hair. His hand was the only warm spot on my body. “We’ve got an open investigation. Everyone is a suspect.”
    I wished he wouldn't keep reminding me. My feet moved me away from his soothing touch. Cooperating with the enemy was off my agenda.
    “My cop sense says you didn't kill Anderson. I need facts that'll help me find the real killer. You're sure Morgan didn't look sick during class?”
    I remained in the suspect pool and jumpsuit orange didn’t complement my complexion. Helping him find the killer looked the only way to avoid unflattering photos in the newspapers.
    “He might have been a little unsteady at the end, but I wouldn't know. Saturday was my first class.”
    “Unsteady, how?”
    “I don't know exactly. It's a feeling.” Ginger would kill me, but she always noticed more than me. “You should ask Ginger. She mentioned his goofy balance the other day.”
    “Trying to get rid of me?”
    “No, I just want to clear my name and get on with my life.”
    He slid closer and twisted a strand of my hair around his finger. “Does that include bringing your wine glasses out of retirement?”
    Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall. “Detective Johnson? You here?”
    Dirk dropped my hair and stepped away from me. “Living room.”
    Allen entered holding a note in an evidence bag.