Free Larkspur by Sheila Simonson Page A

still gets real homesick for San Francisco."
    Then why doesn't she go back? I left the question unasked. "Go in to her. They'll want to
take Denise's statement, but they don't want to trigger off a bout of hysteria."
    He flushed. "She's not hysterical."
    I sighed. "I'm sorry, Dennis. I'm a little hysterical myself. I keep thinking I'm calm, and I
keep saying dumb things."
    He rubbed his forehead. He was wearing his forest service shirt and twill pants, and he
looked as wholesome as a Boy Scout. "Yes, well, she's sensitive, you know, and she has strong
feelings. It comes from being an artist. Sometimes people don't know how to take her."
    My mother is an artist. I had time to be glad she didn't stage-manage her emotions at
Denise's high pitch. "Go in to her. Lydia gave her a Valium, and she slept a little, but she's awake
now. Jay's going to want to take her statement."
    "Why? What can she tell him? He was there."
    "He was on the scene. So was I, but neither of us saw the murderer lace Llewellyn's
Campari. Maybe Denise can fill in some of the blanks."
    He didn't look convinced, but he knocked on the door and went in when Kevin Carey
opened it for him. I finished loading the car.
    I reached town about eleven thirty, unloaded our belongings, and showered in the hope
of waking up. When I had changed into something clerk-like I drove to the bookstore.
    Ginger and Annie hung on my every word. Fortunately no customer showed up while I
was telling them what had happened. Ginger was ready to rush to Dennis's side. I thought that
was a bit excessive.
    "Yeah, but murder," she said, big-eyed. "Whodunit?" She had lately begun to read
mysteries instead of romances.
    "It's not a game, Ginger. The old man died." A human being full of wit and fire was now
a cold decaying sack of chemicals. I thought of Llewellyn's frail shoulders shuddering with the
force of the poison, and I wanted to throw up. I did start crying.
    "Oh, hey, I didn't mean...oh, gee, Lark."
    I fumbled a Kleenex from my purse. "It wasn't what you said." I blew my nose. "I guess
it just hit me. Last night I was breathing for him." I mopped at my eyes and groped for another
tissue. "And now he's d-dead."
    Ginger was patting my shoulders. The door bonged. "Annie!" There was a note of panic
in her voice. She hustled me into the back room and sat me down in the new padded office chair
with the adjustable back.
    I could hear Annie making nervous conversation with somebody. I blew and swabbed
and got myself under control, but I felt miserable. I hoped Jay didn't feel as rotten as I did. I
thought of the nightmare. He probably felt worse. He probably felt responsible.
    Annie left at one, just before we had a rush of customers. For about fifteen minutes, I
was so innocent I thought all those strangers were in town for the holiday and just happened to
want a good book to read.
    We sold out our paperback mysteries and the five copies of Llewellyn's Collected
Poems before six, plus assorted maps, half the science fiction, and all the Stephen Kings.
Ginger and I barely had time to go to the restroom. Customers kept asking if this was the store
with the murder. I kept saying there had been no murder on the premises. Some thought that was
funny. Some didn't. Some were very strange folks.
    Around two thirty the TV car from Channel Three showed up. The reporter had herself
taped making hard-hitting comments by the door while the cameraperson panned over the sign. Larkspur Books . Step right up, name your poison. I refused to give them an interview. I
also said no comment to the Chronicle stringer who drove his camper into the lot and
was obviously set to lay siege.
    "Tomorrow I close the store," I said grimly.
    "We're making money hand over fist." We were both at the checkout counter. Ginger
was enjoying herself.
    "That is the point."
    "Oh. Exploitation." Ginger is not dumb. She rang up the paperback edition of a
     low-cholesterol diet book for a teenaged girl who tittered when I looked her in