Murder Unleashed by Elaine Viets Page B

the chaise. Helen watched the glowing embers blow in the breeze like tiny fireflies.
    “Someone had to see you at Tammie’s house, and that someone will tell the cops. Make it easy on yourself. Call the police right now. I haven’t seen the story on the TV news yet. You’ve still got a chance. If you let them know before they find it out from somewhere else, it will look a lot better. Tell them you were afraid and you ran. They’ll give you a lecture and let you go.”
    “I don’t like talking to the police,” Helen said. What if her picture was on some yellowing “Be on the lookout for” bulletin at the station? She didn’t think she was important enough for a national search, but she didn’t know and she didn’t want to take the chance. Cops had sharp eyes and long memories.
    “Who does?” Margery said. “I don’t like talking to the cops, either.”
    Seventy-six-year-old women never said that in St. Louis, Helen thought.
    “Listen, I know a criminal lawyer—there’s a redundancy for you—named Colby Cox.” Margery took a lung-busting pull on her cigarette. “Colby’s a good old girl, and she owes me a favor. I’ll get her to go with you when you talk to the police.”
    Does your lawyer friend know anything about extradition to another state? Helen wanted to ask, but she didn’t have the courage. Margery didn’t know her whole story. No one did but her sister, Kathy. Even Helen’s mother didn’t know where she lived now. Helen couldn’t trust Dolores not to rat out her own daughter to Rob, her ex-husband.
    Margery knew Helen was avoiding her ex. Helen had given her the impression, without actually saying it, that Rob had beaten her and she’d run from him. She’d never mentioned the part about the court being after her. Helen didn’t know how much her landlady had figured out.
    “I’ll be fine, Margery,” Helen said. “I had a reason to be at Tammie’s house. I was delivering a dog, remember?”
    “How long were you there?” Margery asked.
    “I don’t know, maybe five or ten minutes,” Helen said. Margery’s questions made her uneasy. She took another sip of wine. This time it brought her no comfort, no welcome rush of warmth. She had a sick, sour feeling in her stomach.
    “It only takes a few seconds to stick scissors in Tammie’s chest,” Margery said. She was relentless. If her landlady interrogated her like this, what would the police be like? Helen knew she’d fold and confess everything.
    “Why would I kill her?” Helen said.
    “The cops will find a reason,” Margery said. “They’ll go after you for sure. If they catch you lying, they’ll be really pissed. They’ll throw you in jail for the hell of it. You need help. If you won’t use Colby, why don’t you call Phil? He’s a trained investigator.”
    Phil. The man next door had turned into Helen’s dream lover. She felt a warm rush when she thought of him, and it wasn’t from the wine. She’d seen Phil three nights ago. All night.
    “He’s in Washington,” Helen said.
    “Is he working undercover again?” Margery asked.
    Helen remembered what they’d done between his black silk sheets and blushed. She hoped Margery couldn’t see her face in the gathering dusk.
    “No,” Helen said. “It’s a business trip.”
    “Then you need to call him. He has the law-enforcement contacts. He can help you.”
    “I can help myself,” Helen said. She had her pride. She wasn’t going to run whining to Phil. “I’m not one of those weak women who has to ask a man for help.”
    “Strong women know their limitations,” Margery said. She stubbed out the cigarette, grinding it into the ashtray, but said nothing more. Her silence sounded like an accusation.
    Helen was glad when she heard a rustling near the bougainvillea. Another Coronado resident was walking toward them. It was Peggy, with Pete the parrot on her shoulder. Peggy was as slender and elegant as a wading bird, with a splendid beak of a nose and a