Page 40 of Sweet Sin

“I can’t give her a narcotic.”

“It says they’re for Mr. Shaw, anyway.”

“We’ll just have to wait.” I place a cool cloth on Mrs. Shaw’s forehead, smoothing back her gray hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Then the sirens.

And God, the cops.

Again.

Again I’ll have to tell a story to the cops.

“They’re coming,” Falcon says. “What do you want me to do with your gun?”

“I don’t know. Give it to them, I guess. It’s clearly the murder weapon.” I rise and pace around the Shaws’ kitchen. “This is so fucked up! I’m an officer of the court, Falcon. A parole officer. I’m supposed to be one of the good guys.”

Falcon wraps his arms around me. “You are, Vannah. You are. But being a good guy doesn’t mean you don’t sometimes get mixed up with bad guys. I should fucking know.”

A few moments later, Falcon open the door and lets the EMTs in.

They gather around Mrs. Shaw.

“You know how old she is?” one of them asks me.

“I don’t. I’d guess mid-sixties.”

“Has she taken anything?”

“Not that I know of. She says it hurts though.”

“I’m sure it does.” He touches Mrs. Shaw’s neck. “We’ve got you, ma’am.”

Once Mrs. Shaw is on the stretcher and out the door, the police arrive.

“What happened here?” one officer asks.

Thankfully, the officers aren’t the same ones who were at Falcon’s.

I breathe in, try to get my pulse under control. “I live in the other side of the duplex. I rent it from the Shaws. I came home about a half hour ago to find my place trashed. When we knocked on the Shaws’ door, there was no answer. The door was unlocked so we came in.”

“And you found Mrs. Shaw in the kitchen.”

“Yeah. It looked like she’d been punched in the face several times. Probably in the stomach too. She was lying here, and her face was bloody, but her pulse was strong. I cleaned her face up.”

“And her husband?”

I gulp. “I haven’t seen him, but Falcon says he was shot. His body’s in the tub.”

“Officer Denny is talking to your friend now about Mr. Shaw.”

“I should tell you. I think it may be my gun that was used.”

The officer’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t even here. I’ve been at Falcon’s all day. God, this day!” I rub my forehead against the jackhammer inside.

“Is there any reason why anyone would want to frame you?”

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