Free Shoots to Kill by Kate Collins Page B

Sunshine.”
    Between running the bar and working on his PI cases, Marco was tied up for the rest of the week, so I made it a practice to drop by the bar after I closed the shop, so we could at least have a beer together. Without fail, however, Libby would show up soon afterward to discuss the latest developments in her case, which made it nearly impossible to block out my animosity for her. Still, I tried, even when other shop owners kept stopping me to say how much Libby and I looked like sisters, and what a great kid she was, and wasn’t I glad she had returned to town? In each case I managed to smile and nod—and quickly move on.
    To demonstrate even further to Marco that I was willing to let bygones be bygones, I made up a big floral arrangement for Libby’s grand-opening celebration on Friday and walked it down there myself just before closing time on Thursday. Oliver had just flipped the sign in the door to CLOSED, but when he saw me through the glass pane, he let me in, saluting as I passed.
    I stared around at the balloons and streamers hanging from the ceiling, and the big, colorful splash of roses, orchids, spider mums, gerbera daisies, and more that were artfully positioned in designer vases all around the shop. Obviously, Delphi had gone somewhere else for her flowers. At least I could claim one arrangement, even if I had brought it down myself.
    “The place looks great,” I told him. I glanced around and saw three of my potted bamboo plants on display in an Oriental art exhibit. “What happened to the fourth bamboo plant, Oliver?”
    “It wasn’t requisitioned, ma’am.”
    Hearing Delphi’s angry voice and some unpleasant cockney screeching coming from the back room, I said, “Should I come back later?”
    He took a seat on a stool behind the counter. “You’ll miss the show, ma’am.”
    I set the flower arrangement on the counter just as Delphi cried, “You’re a thief! A crude, lying, sticky-fingered thief! Don’t you dare deny that you took money from the cash drawer, you wart-covered cockney toad. Give it back.”
    “ ’Oo d’yer think you are, talkin’ ter me that way!” Tilly fired back.
    “The woman who’s going to have you deported, that’s who!” Delphi shouted.
    Tilly burst through the curtain and headed straight for the counter with Delphi in hot pursuit and Libby trailing after, looking anxious and unhappy.
    Oh. That show.
    “Out o’me way, you barmy swine,” Tilly bellowed, nearly shoving Oliver off the stool as she reached beneath the counter for her purse. She swung to face her accuser. “Just try an’ ’ave me deported,” she sneered. “You’ll be sorry you ever crossed Tilly Gladwell, you will.”
    “Oliver,” Delphi commanded, “call the police!”
    I glanced over at him and found him entranced in the whole spectacle as though it were live theater. I tapped on the counter. “You’d better call 911.”
    As Oliver reached for the phone, Tilly headed for the door muttering swearwords.
    “Don’t you walk out of here!” Delphi shouted, her pixie face red with rage. But Tilly charged straight out the door with Delphi fast on her heels yelling threats.
    “Mummy, don’t!” Libby cried, racing behind. “You might get hurt!”
    Through the window I watched as Delphi caught up with Tilly and tried to wrestle the purse away, while Libby stood off to the side wringing her hands. Being larger, Tilly gave Delphi a shove that sent her sprawling, then quickly loped up the block and around the corner, moving surprisingly fast for a woman her size.
    Hearing the wail of a police siren, I decided a quick exit was in order. I couldn’t afford to be caught in the middle of another fracas.
    “Ma’am?” Oliver called as I darted for the door. “You didn’t leave a bill for the flowers.”
    “They’re a gift,” I called back. “Happy grand opening.”
    Too late. A squad car pulled up and two officers got out—one of them Reilly.
    At once Delphi marched up to them