Page 66 of All You Want
“I didn’t. Who are you? I didn’t do anything.” Her struggles are of no avail.
“You. Killed. Her.” I bite the words to remind her of Mooma’s death. It’ll do to keep her guilty, even though he has new information and a new plan.
It’s a big, beautiful plan for her big, beautiful butt.
He has no need for vengeance now that his heart is turning toward love and happily ever after, especially with all the beautiful new information. If he can get her to suspect the sheriff, even better, but for that to work, he has to make her think she’s the guilty one. Then she’ll point the finger to protect herself.
Same way she did when Mooma was poisoned. Blamed everyone except her precious little blobbybutt self.
“You’ll keep quiet, if you don’t want to be next.” He shoves her hard. He doesn’t want her injured, so he directs her path toward an appropriate landing pad.
The dead librarian absorbs her fall.
Her screams accelerate, her blue eyes popping like exploding bubble gum and blood streaks smearing her corn silk hair.
“You did it,” he spits the words and fades into the basement walls.
Twenty-Four
~ Todd ~
The powerful siren on the Chevy Tahoe PPV has its intended effect. By the time I pull up to the parking circle, the windows of the hotel rooms are lit, and floodlights are turned on around the perimeter. I kill the siren, leaving the lights flashing.
“Donnelly,” I bark into my cell phone. “Where are you? I thought I told you to meet me at the Bee Sting.”
“I’m on my way,” he says. “Just got home.”
“Anyone with you?” I ask.
“Why would there be?” I can hear the smirk in his voice. It also means he has no alibi.
“I need you to secure the premises. Call in as many deputies as you can. I’ve already called the medical examiner.” I snap off the call and rush to the loading dock.
Lights are shining bright, and Tami is sitting on a foldup chair, surrounded by various hotel guests.
She’s disheveled and covered with blood, and her mother is dabbing at her face with a wet towel. Her expression is stricken, like she’s not quite sure where she is, and tears stream down her face as her shoulders shudder and she makes choking noises.
The body is covered by a black sheet, but the pool of blood is visible, as well as a barrage of bloody footsteps crisscrossing the concrete loading dock.
I make a megaphone with my hands. “Everyone stay back from the body and stop taking pictures.”
A few whack jobs point their camera phone at me, so I advance on them. “Turn it off, or you’re under arrest. This is a crime scene.”
“Are you sure?” A guest with the slicked-back hair and solemn bearing of an undertaker steps forward. “Do we even know what’s under that sheet? Or is this another pool of paint with a hysterical Madam Goldilocks looking for a trending hashtag?”
“Step back.” I pull a growl from my arsenal of police voices and whip the black shroud aside. It’s a body all right. The flesh is still soft, and I easily close the gaping eyelids. Rigor mortis doesn’t set in until two hours, which means the time of death is recent.
Tami could have walked in while the killer was around.
I slowly and dramatically look up while replacing the sheet over the victim’s face. “All of you are now suspects. I suggest you cooperate with the authorities to the fullest.”
“I’m not speaking without a lawyer,” the flaccid-looking man with the doughy undertaker demeanor says.
“Then you’ll be here all night.” I stare him down, and he backs into a pregnant woman who I believe is one of Tami’s university friends. The other one, a belly dancer who is now wearing a down coat, shivers behind her, looking frightened.
“Clifton, is it really a body? But I thought…” The pregnant woman gapes at Tami and then back at me. “I thought this was a stunt. Clifton was with me all night. He woke me when he heard the commotion and told me to come down here.”
“Shut up, Bonnie. Don’t say another word.” Clifton grabs Bonnie by the elbow and starts for the service door.
