Harley Rushes In (Book 2 of the Blue Suede Mysteries) by Virginia Brown Page A

let’s run this down again, Harley. You said you were doing something for your aunt—what?”
    “Uh . . . I have her camera.” She held it up when he looked at her. “I was taking pictures for her. Of furniture. Stuff like that.”
    “Right. I’ll just keep it for a while, if you don’t mind. Give it to that officer over there. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you’re here after hours? Why she didn’t do it herself?”
    “She, uh, had a meeting.” No way was she going to tell them Aunt Darcy had been here.
    “A meeting. Why is taking pictures of merchandise so important she’d send you to do it? You’ve never gotten along that well with her. Why so buddy-buddy all of a sudden?”
    The bad thing about Bobby was that he remembered too much, and knew too much about her family. It could be damned inconvenient.
    Not wanting to lie to Bobby, but knowing the truth would only be worse without proof, she said, “Well, we’re not exactly buddies, but I was, uh, looking at some of the new stuff that just came in. You know. Unique stuff for my apartment.”
    Bobby just looked at her. He had a way of ferreting out the truth that was quite annoying, but she held firm. He didn’t believe her, she could see that, so he just waited for her to blurt out everything she knew. This time, it wasn’t going to work. Darcy was family, and blood was thicker than water. Even thicker than friendship, although she felt queasy about it all.
    “At wholesale,” she added when he kept staring at her.
    “Wholesale?” he finally said in a frankly disbelieving tone. “Your Aunt Darcy ? Has she had a recent brain transplant? She’s never given wholesale to anyone, not even her own mother.”
    That was true, dammit. She’d gone too far. Why had she added the last? Bobby knew that Darcy Fontaine believed in profit even at the expense of her own family. She’d just remodeled Grandmother Eaton’s kitchen and only gave her a five percent discount. Hardly wholesale.
    Fortunately, a female shriek distracted Bobby, so she was saved from having to give a plausible explanation. That could wait until she’d actually talked to Aunt Darcy to find out why she’d been here and if she’d seen her partner impaled on an elk horn.
    “Harry! Oh God no, not Harry! Please, you’ve got to let me see him . . . noooo!”
    The shrieks rose in volume until Harley’s eyes throbbed and she winced. Two uniformed policemen were trying to contain the plainly hysterical woman struggling to get through their barrier to the warehouse.
    “Do you know her?” Bobby asked Harley, and she shook her head.
    “Never seen her before in my life, but I don’t think I’ll forget that voice. It grates like fingernails on a chalkboard.”
    Bobby’s faint smile told her he agreed with her assessment, but he only said, “Come to the precinct in the morning to give an official statement.”
    “So,” Morgan said while Bobby walked toward the crime scene in the warehouse, “why were you here again?”
    “I already told you—”
    “Yeah, and I don’t quite believe you.”
    Indignant again, she said, “I have never lied to you!”
    “Maybe not, but you have an annoying habit of not telling me the entire truth. So technically, it’s the same thing.”
    “Not quite.” She really hated it when he got technical. He was so often right.
    “Oh yeah. Quite . You went to Catholic school. Isn’t there a sin of omission as well as a sin of commission?”
    “How should I know? I slept through catechism classes, and I’ve forgotten everything I had to learn anyway. Look, thanks for coming to my rescue. I feel better now. Think I can go?”
    “Better ask Baroni about that. He’s the primary on this one.”
    “Chicken.”
    “Oh no, I’m not about to lay the egg. Let Baroni handle you. I’ve done my rescue bit for tonight.”
    Her brow arched. “That mean we won’t be having a late dinner in bed?”
    “Hey, I said I’m not into any more rescue, but I’m