sand. I got up, grabbed a bottle of Coke from the fridge, and took a long gulp.
“You don’t waste any time,” I told Nick, sitting back down and pretending like his sudden interest in my motives—and the fact that he was tapped into the Showdown gossip grapevine—didn’t bother me.
His shrug was almost casual enough to make me believe he really didn’t care. “I talked to some people. That’s all. While you were talking to the cops.”
“And those people . . .”
“Said Roberto stopped by the Palace earlier today. They said the two of you had an argument. Things got physical.”
I choked on the sip of soda I was about to swallow. “I bonked him with the chili costume,” I said, because really, “got physical” was just a stupid cop way of saying the same thing.
“Then you admit it?”
“That I whacked Roberto on the head with the Chili Chick? Heck, yes. He deserved it.”
“Because he . . .”
Honestly, did my love life (or lack of it) have to be the topic of every conversation at the Showdown?
I thought not, and thinking it, I glared at Nick. “Because I didn’t give a crap about him.”
“In my experience, people don’t fight unless they care very much about the other person. That doesn’t mean that caring is about liking the person. Or loving them. Sometimes, they care enough to hate.”
“And we’re getting philosophical now . . . why?”
“It’s my job.”
“Funny, I thought your job was to keep the turnstile jumpers and the shoplifters away from the Showdown.”
Oh yes, that stung. Just like I knew it would. It was precisely why I bothered to mention it. See, from the moment I met him, I knew Nick had a bug up his butt about not being on the job anymore. It was exactly why I thought I’d remind him that acting like a tough cop was going to get him nowhere. Not with me, anyway.
I sat back and kept my mouth shut.
He dropped into the seat across from mine.
“You were angry at Roberto?”
“So what? You think I killed him?”
I spit out a laugh that died in the air between us when Nick said, “Did you?”
I finished drinking the Coke and tossed the bottle in the nearby container Sylvia insisted we keep for recycling. Suddenly, it was all too clear what was going on here. The comforting touch of Nick’s hand . . . the way he’d defended me against Phil’s lecherous advances . . .
I narrowed my eyes and shot him a look. “You didn’t come in here while I was getting undressed so you could make sure Phil the perv didn’t molest me. You came in here so you could find out what was going on before the local cops did. All you wanted was to ask questions.”
“So far, you haven’t answered any of them.”
“So far, you haven’t said anything that makes any sense.”
Nick scraped a hand through his hair. “Look, if I heard the story about you and Roberto going at each other, the local cops are bound to hear it, too.”
“Then I’ll tell them exactly what I’m telling you. I barely knew Roberto. And it didn’t take me long to figure out that barely was as close as I wanted to get. This morning when he came by, he said some things that pissed me off. That’s why I walloped him with the chili. Listen, it’s not like I’ve never hated anyone enough to want to kill them. Sylvia tops the list. And then there’s Edik. Since you apparently know all about me, I’m sure you’ve heard that story. But when it comes to people I’d like to see removed from the face of the Earth, Roberto wasn’t on my radar screen.”
“But you two did have history.”
I threw my hands in the air. It was better than wishing I had the bottle of Coke back so I could throw that at Nick. “History? I went out with the guy once. Does that make it history?”
“It means you had a connection.”
“Not a very interesting one.”
“Maybe Roberto thought that, too. Maybe if he said he didn’t want to see you again—”
“Are you kidding me?” I was on my feet before I knew it, my
“You don’t waste any time,” I told Nick, sitting back down and pretending like his sudden interest in my motives—and the fact that he was tapped into the Showdown gossip grapevine—didn’t bother me.
His shrug was almost casual enough to make me believe he really didn’t care. “I talked to some people. That’s all. While you were talking to the cops.”
“And those people . . .”
“Said Roberto stopped by the Palace earlier today. They said the two of you had an argument. Things got physical.”
I choked on the sip of soda I was about to swallow. “I bonked him with the chili costume,” I said, because really, “got physical” was just a stupid cop way of saying the same thing.
“Then you admit it?”
“That I whacked Roberto on the head with the Chili Chick? Heck, yes. He deserved it.”
“Because he . . .”
Honestly, did my love life (or lack of it) have to be the topic of every conversation at the Showdown?
I thought not, and thinking it, I glared at Nick. “Because I didn’t give a crap about him.”
“In my experience, people don’t fight unless they care very much about the other person. That doesn’t mean that caring is about liking the person. Or loving them. Sometimes, they care enough to hate.”
“And we’re getting philosophical now . . . why?”
“It’s my job.”
“Funny, I thought your job was to keep the turnstile jumpers and the shoplifters away from the Showdown.”
Oh yes, that stung. Just like I knew it would. It was precisely why I bothered to mention it. See, from the moment I met him, I knew Nick had a bug up his butt about not being on the job anymore. It was exactly why I thought I’d remind him that acting like a tough cop was going to get him nowhere. Not with me, anyway.
I sat back and kept my mouth shut.
He dropped into the seat across from mine.
“You were angry at Roberto?”
“So what? You think I killed him?”
I spit out a laugh that died in the air between us when Nick said, “Did you?”
I finished drinking the Coke and tossed the bottle in the nearby container Sylvia insisted we keep for recycling. Suddenly, it was all too clear what was going on here. The comforting touch of Nick’s hand . . . the way he’d defended me against Phil’s lecherous advances . . .
I narrowed my eyes and shot him a look. “You didn’t come in here while I was getting undressed so you could make sure Phil the perv didn’t molest me. You came in here so you could find out what was going on before the local cops did. All you wanted was to ask questions.”
“So far, you haven’t answered any of them.”
“So far, you haven’t said anything that makes any sense.”
Nick scraped a hand through his hair. “Look, if I heard the story about you and Roberto going at each other, the local cops are bound to hear it, too.”
“Then I’ll tell them exactly what I’m telling you. I barely knew Roberto. And it didn’t take me long to figure out that barely was as close as I wanted to get. This morning when he came by, he said some things that pissed me off. That’s why I walloped him with the chili. Listen, it’s not like I’ve never hated anyone enough to want to kill them. Sylvia tops the list. And then there’s Edik. Since you apparently know all about me, I’m sure you’ve heard that story. But when it comes to people I’d like to see removed from the face of the Earth, Roberto wasn’t on my radar screen.”
“But you two did have history.”
I threw my hands in the air. It was better than wishing I had the bottle of Coke back so I could throw that at Nick. “History? I went out with the guy once. Does that make it history?”
“It means you had a connection.”
“Not a very interesting one.”
“Maybe Roberto thought that, too. Maybe if he said he didn’t want to see you again—”
“Are you kidding me?” I was on my feet before I knew it, my
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