fists on my hips. “Do you think I’m that hard up?”
Nick got to his feet, too. Slowly. Casually. Like we weren’t here debating how crazy and desperate I would have to be to actually kill a guy who didn’t want to date me again.
A more level-headed woman would have given him time to at least try to explain himself. “While you’re deciding that I killed ol’ Roberto, think about this. I saw Roberto this morning, and it’s now . . .” The clock on the microwave hadn’t worked in years, but automatically I looked that way. “It’s afternoon sometime,” I said. “That means hours have passed since I last saw Roberto. So while you’re using that Sherlock Holmes brain of yours, think about this: A whole lot can happen to a guy in a couple hours. And believe me, whatever that whole lot was, it had nothing to do with me.”
Since I was fuming, it didn’t seem right that Nick looked so completely blasé about the whole thing. He walked to the door. “I’m just telling you that the cops are going to want to talk to you about all this,” he said. “I thought you’d want to take some time and think about what you’re going to tell them. I was just concerned, that’s all. You know, as a friend.”
“Friend.” Since I was standing near the recycling bin, it seemed a waste not to grab the plastic Coke bottle I’d just deposited there. I winged it at Nick and missed by a mile, which is just as well since at that moment the door opened.
“Oh.” Sylvia stood at the bottom of the two steps that led into the RV, her lips parted and her eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“I was just leaving,” Nick said, and without another word, he was gone.
“Friend.” The bottle had hit the wall and bounced into the passenger seat, and I retrieved it and shoved it back in the recycling bin. “I don’t need friends like that. Can you believe it?” I stomped back over to the table. “That idiot actually thinks I had a reason to kill Roberto.”
In spite of the fact that there was sun streaming through the side window of the RV, Sylvia’s face was pale.
I collapsed in the nearest chair. “What are you looking so gloomy about?” I asked her. “You were just there minding your own business, and nobody’s going to be asking you any question. At least nobody thinks you had a reason to kill Roberto.”
Sylvia didn’t answer. In fact, all she did was hurry into her bedroom and close the door behind her.
I should have listened. After all, she didn’t say anything.
And there’s a lot you can hear in silence.
CHAPTER 5
There’s an upside to everything. Even getting flattened by a dead guy.
Like the fact that the next day, the cops still had my costume as evidence.
As far as I was concerned, this was the equivalent of an engraved invitation. No costume meant no work. At least in my universe.
Something told me Sylvia did not agree. Not that I stuck around long enough to hear it from her. It was the morning of the first day of the Showdown, and when I zipped past the Palace where Sylvia was setting out jars of spices, she made a face at me.
Old habits die hard. Seeing those sky-blue eyes of hers all squinched up and those petal-pink lips puckered, I called out the taunt we’d used on each other so many times for so many summers. “Your face is going to freeze that way. Then you’ll be sorry!”
I don’t know if she yelled the standard comeback, “Oh yeah, well at least my face isn’t as ugly as yours.” I didn’t wait around to find out.
I had a few hours before the crowds descended, and I intended to make the most of them. First stop, Tumbleweed’s office.
“You’re up bright and early.” Look who was talking! Ruth Ann, Tumbleweed’s wife, was already at her desk inside the trailer that served as the Showdown’s office. Ruth Ann was younger than Tumbleweed by a dozen years or so, a woman with teased, bleached hair, stick-thin arms, and a paunch I knew came courtesy of the six
Nick got to his feet, too. Slowly. Casually. Like we weren’t here debating how crazy and desperate I would have to be to actually kill a guy who didn’t want to date me again.
A more level-headed woman would have given him time to at least try to explain himself. “While you’re deciding that I killed ol’ Roberto, think about this. I saw Roberto this morning, and it’s now . . .” The clock on the microwave hadn’t worked in years, but automatically I looked that way. “It’s afternoon sometime,” I said. “That means hours have passed since I last saw Roberto. So while you’re using that Sherlock Holmes brain of yours, think about this: A whole lot can happen to a guy in a couple hours. And believe me, whatever that whole lot was, it had nothing to do with me.”
Since I was fuming, it didn’t seem right that Nick looked so completely blasé about the whole thing. He walked to the door. “I’m just telling you that the cops are going to want to talk to you about all this,” he said. “I thought you’d want to take some time and think about what you’re going to tell them. I was just concerned, that’s all. You know, as a friend.”
“Friend.” Since I was standing near the recycling bin, it seemed a waste not to grab the plastic Coke bottle I’d just deposited there. I winged it at Nick and missed by a mile, which is just as well since at that moment the door opened.
“Oh.” Sylvia stood at the bottom of the two steps that led into the RV, her lips parted and her eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“I was just leaving,” Nick said, and without another word, he was gone.
“Friend.” The bottle had hit the wall and bounced into the passenger seat, and I retrieved it and shoved it back in the recycling bin. “I don’t need friends like that. Can you believe it?” I stomped back over to the table. “That idiot actually thinks I had a reason to kill Roberto.”
In spite of the fact that there was sun streaming through the side window of the RV, Sylvia’s face was pale.
I collapsed in the nearest chair. “What are you looking so gloomy about?” I asked her. “You were just there minding your own business, and nobody’s going to be asking you any question. At least nobody thinks you had a reason to kill Roberto.”
Sylvia didn’t answer. In fact, all she did was hurry into her bedroom and close the door behind her.
I should have listened. After all, she didn’t say anything.
And there’s a lot you can hear in silence.
CHAPTER 5
There’s an upside to everything. Even getting flattened by a dead guy.
Like the fact that the next day, the cops still had my costume as evidence.
As far as I was concerned, this was the equivalent of an engraved invitation. No costume meant no work. At least in my universe.
Something told me Sylvia did not agree. Not that I stuck around long enough to hear it from her. It was the morning of the first day of the Showdown, and when I zipped past the Palace where Sylvia was setting out jars of spices, she made a face at me.
Old habits die hard. Seeing those sky-blue eyes of hers all squinched up and those petal-pink lips puckered, I called out the taunt we’d used on each other so many times for so many summers. “Your face is going to freeze that way. Then you’ll be sorry!”
I don’t know if she yelled the standard comeback, “Oh yeah, well at least my face isn’t as ugly as yours.” I didn’t wait around to find out.
I had a few hours before the crowds descended, and I intended to make the most of them. First stop, Tumbleweed’s office.
“You’re up bright and early.” Look who was talking! Ruth Ann, Tumbleweed’s wife, was already at her desk inside the trailer that served as the Showdown’s office. Ruth Ann was younger than Tumbleweed by a dozen years or so, a woman with teased, bleached hair, stick-thin arms, and a paunch I knew came courtesy of the six
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