Antiques Disposal by Barbara Allan

shape. Mia had once been a good friend but we’d drifted apart.
    Exiting the unmarked car was Brian Lawson, interim chief since Tony Cassato had entered the Witness Protection Program. Brian had a leanly muscular athlete’s build and was (if it’s not bad taste to say so in this context) drop-dead handsome, with sandy hair and the kind of brown eyes a girl could get lost in.
    And, once upon a time, I had.
    Which is to say I had history with these officers, even before Mother and I had begun making a bad habit of turning up at crime scenes.
    Mother was the first to speak. “In there,” she said to Munson and Mia, who had reached us first.
    Munson hurried past us, but Mia paused long enough to give me a disparaging look, which I responded to with an elaborate shrug.
    Then, with mag-lights shining, the uniformed pair disappeared inside the unit.
    Mother faded back, leaving me to deal with Brian.
    â€œAre you all right?” he asked, concern tightening his boyish face.
    â€œI’m fine.” I cocked my head. “But I’m surprised to see you here. The chief himself?”
    He lifted an eyebrow. “I was just leaving the station when the call came in. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”
    â€œI’m fine. But Peggy Sue isn’t.” I gestured toward the Caddie. “She actually fainted when we found the body. I don’t think I ever saw anybody faint before, except in movies.”
    â€œDoes she need medical assistance? The paramedics are on the way.”
    â€œShe’s all right—just shook up,” I said. “Why paramedics? It’s not like Big Jim Bob needs them.”
    â€œIt’s procedure.” His concern, maybe because I was being so flip, switched over to curiosity. “How did you happen onto him, anyway? Guy owned the business here, right?”
    I nodded, then filled him in on everything that had happened since this morning. Had it really only been eight hours? On the other hand, I was wiped out enough for it to have been eight days.
    I was wrapping up my account when Mia’s sharply raised voice interrupted, echoing within the unit.
    â€œGet out! ” she shouted.
    â€œWhy, Officer!” Mother retorted, and hopped out, landing a little unsteadily. “I was merely trying to be useful.”
    â€œYou mean use less ,” Mia said. Like a teacher sending a very bad child to the principal’s office, she pointed a finger at Mother, then away from the unit. “This kind of nonsense landed you in jail not so long ago, Vivian. If you don’t want to go back there, stay out! ”
    As Mia withdrew into the crime scene, Mother came toward Brian and me, smoothing her jacket like a bed she was making.
    â€œ They don’t seem to value my insights,” she huffed, “but you do, don’t you, Interim Chief Lawson?”
    Brian’s jaw muscles flexed, ever so slightly. “That’s ‘Chief Lawson,’ Mrs. Borne.”
    â€œOh, please feel free to call me ‘Vivian.’ Any friend of Brandy’s is a friend of mine. So, you have been made permanent chief, then?”
    â€œNo, but I am acting chief.”
    Mother’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. “Oh my bad , as the children say. Not Interim Chief Lawson.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œI won’t make that mistake again, Acting Chief Lawson.”
    Brian’s jaw muscles flexed again, not so slightly, so I said, “Chief? I’d like get to Peggy Sue out of here. Could you take our statements tomorrow, either at home or at the station? Whatever’s convenient?”
    I only dared to suggest that the Borne girls might all leave the crime scene, knowing Brian stood between Mother and me—otherwise she would have kicked me in the shin. Or shins.
    â€œAll right,” he said. “Late morning? Station okay?”
    â€œFine,” I said, and gave him as warm a smile as I could under the circumstances.