chartreuse ski jacket on the coat rack next to the door and collapsed on the breakfast nook bench. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. "I'm exhausted, but I know I won't be able to sleep until I tell you about what's going on."
Amy held up her finger. "Let me get the tea. Then we can settle down and chat."
She retrieved the pot of peppermint tea that was steeping on the kitchen island. Warm, comforting, and caffeine free. With her other hand, she grabbed a couple mugs. Coffee was unequivocally their favorite beverage, but Carla needed to get some sleep after the dinner and chat session. So did she. Caffeine didn't need to fuel the sleep-stealing worries and problems. She set the teapot on a crocheted hot pad that looked like a daisy sitting on the breakfast nook table. Carla stared at the green leaves floating in the infusing tube of the clear glass pot. "I'm the chief suspect in Chet's murder."
Amy bobbled the ceramic mugs. They banged onto the table. Ceramic shards shot across the wood tabletop and clinked onto the floor at her feet. "What? How could you be? You weren't even there for the showdown."
"That's the problem. I went straight home after I left the expo to do laundry and have a nap. There are no witnesses that I know of who can prove I was in my condo instead of creeping around the theater killing Chet." She shook her head. "A lot of people saw me arguing with him. The detective in charge of the case is going the easy route and figuring I took the spat to a lethal level."
"This isn't a video game. Lethal level should never be reached in real life." Poor Carla looked like she was ready to cry, a seldom seen emotional reaction in the world of her steel-nerved friend. Apparently the new detective was gnawing on the unpleasant encounter with Chet, like on a bone. "I'm sure you and Shepler can quickly come up with a way to prove you're innocent."
She frowned and resumed staring at the teapot while Amy picked up the bits of broken coffee mug from around it. As Amy emptied the handful of debris into the intact mug, Carla said, "Bruce told you Detective Pitts just transferred into the department. I guess he's hell-bent on taking the fast track to the top even if he has to play dirty to get there. Bruce voluntarily removed himself from the case when you told him about my connection to Chet. When he tried to give Pitts some advice, suggested a few people to interview since he is new to the area, Pitts turned him into the chief for interfering with the investigation."
"Pitts sounds about as appealing as Britton, complete with the bad attitude and inflated ego." Amy quickly grabbed new mugs and the garbage can from under the sink. She poured a cup of tea for Carla and then used a damp dish rag to push the broken mess into the can. "The murder is bad enough. I can't believe we have to deal with him too."
Carla wrapped her hands around the mug and sighed. "I just came from an hour-long interview with him at the police station. You didn't tell him Chet and I were lovers?"
"No. He didn't even ask me about the sniper snark attack Britton launched on us. All Pitts wanted to know about was what happened backstage before I opened unlucky freezer door number two. Oh, and he also wondered how bad I wanted to win…like I would kill to donate money to the library and earn $500 for myself." Amy sat back down and poured herself a mug of the steaming, fragrant tea. She took a sip and choked on it when something she hadn't thought about before decided to tap dance across her conscience. "Are you mad that I told Shepler about you and Chet?"
"No. This would've been an even bigger mess if he had continued investigating last night and then found out about my stupidity this morning." She flitted her hand like she was shooing away a fruit fly. "He and I have both had some pretty messed-up affairs over the years. It sucks that a meaningless fling from my past is complicating the only serious relationship I have ever cared about."
A
Amy held up her finger. "Let me get the tea. Then we can settle down and chat."
She retrieved the pot of peppermint tea that was steeping on the kitchen island. Warm, comforting, and caffeine free. With her other hand, she grabbed a couple mugs. Coffee was unequivocally their favorite beverage, but Carla needed to get some sleep after the dinner and chat session. So did she. Caffeine didn't need to fuel the sleep-stealing worries and problems. She set the teapot on a crocheted hot pad that looked like a daisy sitting on the breakfast nook table. Carla stared at the green leaves floating in the infusing tube of the clear glass pot. "I'm the chief suspect in Chet's murder."
Amy bobbled the ceramic mugs. They banged onto the table. Ceramic shards shot across the wood tabletop and clinked onto the floor at her feet. "What? How could you be? You weren't even there for the showdown."
"That's the problem. I went straight home after I left the expo to do laundry and have a nap. There are no witnesses that I know of who can prove I was in my condo instead of creeping around the theater killing Chet." She shook her head. "A lot of people saw me arguing with him. The detective in charge of the case is going the easy route and figuring I took the spat to a lethal level."
"This isn't a video game. Lethal level should never be reached in real life." Poor Carla looked like she was ready to cry, a seldom seen emotional reaction in the world of her steel-nerved friend. Apparently the new detective was gnawing on the unpleasant encounter with Chet, like on a bone. "I'm sure you and Shepler can quickly come up with a way to prove you're innocent."
She frowned and resumed staring at the teapot while Amy picked up the bits of broken coffee mug from around it. As Amy emptied the handful of debris into the intact mug, Carla said, "Bruce told you Detective Pitts just transferred into the department. I guess he's hell-bent on taking the fast track to the top even if he has to play dirty to get there. Bruce voluntarily removed himself from the case when you told him about my connection to Chet. When he tried to give Pitts some advice, suggested a few people to interview since he is new to the area, Pitts turned him into the chief for interfering with the investigation."
"Pitts sounds about as appealing as Britton, complete with the bad attitude and inflated ego." Amy quickly grabbed new mugs and the garbage can from under the sink. She poured a cup of tea for Carla and then used a damp dish rag to push the broken mess into the can. "The murder is bad enough. I can't believe we have to deal with him too."
Carla wrapped her hands around the mug and sighed. "I just came from an hour-long interview with him at the police station. You didn't tell him Chet and I were lovers?"
"No. He didn't even ask me about the sniper snark attack Britton launched on us. All Pitts wanted to know about was what happened backstage before I opened unlucky freezer door number two. Oh, and he also wondered how bad I wanted to win…like I would kill to donate money to the library and earn $500 for myself." Amy sat back down and poured herself a mug of the steaming, fragrant tea. She took a sip and choked on it when something she hadn't thought about before decided to tap dance across her conscience. "Are you mad that I told Shepler about you and Chet?"
"No. This would've been an even bigger mess if he had continued investigating last night and then found out about my stupidity this morning." She flitted her hand like she was shooing away a fruit fly. "He and I have both had some pretty messed-up affairs over the years. It sucks that a meaningless fling from my past is complicating the only serious relationship I have ever cared about."
A
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