"Anything else I can do to help, Detective Albright?" She was obviously even more affected by the cologne than Gretchen. Shelley batted goo-enhanced eyelashes.
"Thanks, Shelley. That pretty much wraps it up. You've been a big help."
"I'll be right here if you need me."
Matt stepped away from the doll table, and Gretchen followed.
"Let's go outside," he said. "I can't breathe in here."
"Don't you want to hear my alibi?" she said when they found a slice of shade under a palm tree.
"Do you feel you need one?"
"I think I do, since you've been asking everyone else about it."
"Shoot."
"Shoot?"
"Tell me where you were when Ronny Beam was
killed."
Gretchen told him about Bonnie's offer to watch her table and about the Boston group discussing Blunderboos.
"Milt remembered that I was there, and your mother can tell you that she wanted me to see the club's Kewpies."
"I still see a gap in time where you aren't accounted for," Matt said. "But I don't think it matters. I think we have our man."
"Steve? You don't still think he did it?"
"He argued with the deceased shortly before the murder. His fingerprints are on the knife, and several witnesses saw him out in the parking lot before Ronny was killed. How much more evidence would you like?"
"But what about the real murder weapon?"
"The tire iron didn't have any prints on it."
"Steve isn't capable of murder."
"Everyone has the potential."
Brett, Percy O'Connor, and Ronny Beam were connected through a trail of Kewpie dolls. So was she, for that matter. The messages inside the Kewpies made her fear she was involved more deeply than she wanted to be. Should she tell him everything she knew?
If she told him about the deliveries, he might think she was making a clumsy effort to shift suspicion away from Steve. Would he look more closely at her?
Matt Albright was too full of himself to see the truth. Arrogant, selfabsorbed, stubborn… She searched for more adjectives to describe him. Why did she even think for one moment that she could confide in him?
The detective standing in front of her with the ridiculous smirk would probably scoff at her concerns and dismiss them out of hand as sheer fantasy.
"Has Steve requested legal representation yet?" Gretchen asked instead.
"I offered, he refuses. Says he's waiting for you. That's one of the reasons I circled your name in big bold red pen. Any idea what he's talking about?"
"None," Gretchen said. Was Steve trying to protect her?
How chivalrous of him to come through for her. Finally. But too late. "Can I see him?"
"No. He's still in a holding cell. Until he's charged, he can't have any visitors."
"How long can you hold him without charging him?"
"Not much longer."
His eyes locked onto hers. Gretchen squirmed under his gaze. What was it about this man? He induced too many conflicting emotions.
"I wouldn't have pegged him as your type," Matt said.
"I thought you'd go for someone… I don't know… more sensitive, more artistic."
"Really?"
"Anyway, I'm sorry it happened to you. Your boyfriend's in a heap of trouble."
"I don't know how many times I have to say this…"
Gretchen didn't finish the sentence. Why bother?
She stomped back to her table, plopped into her chair, and selected a five-piece toddler doll from the repair pile. Before Gretchen could immerse herself in repair work and temporarily forget all the peripheral intrigue going on, Nina, canines in tow, walked the few steps from April's table. "I kept an eye on your table, but nobody wanted to buy anything. The place is starting to clear out. What's wrong? You're so pale."
"Steve's still in jail. I guess witnesses saw him in the parking lot." She leaned back in the chair. "Matt must think I know what happened or that I'm an accomplice of some sort."
"Your knife and Steve's fingerprints? It doesn't look good." Nina bent down to stroke the three dogs on the floor around her feet. Tutu put her jealous little muzzle under Nina's hand every time Nina gave Nimrod or Sophie attention. "I bet that's exactly what he thinks."
Nina straightened, and her face turned the color of Elmer's glue. At first Gretchen thought it was because of what she'd just said, but Nina was staring at Gretchen's arm. "Don't move," Nina said, jerking her hand out in front of her like a cop stopping traffic. "I don't want to panic you, but sit very, very still."
April, coming up behind her, looked at Gretchen and screamed.
"Quiet," Nina commanded.
Gretchen did what Nina asked. "What?" she said, barely breathing.
April had her hand at her mouth.
Nina grabbed a Barbie doll. "An insect crawled out of Nimrod's purse. It's on your arm. Maybe I can flick it off."
"That's not an insect," April squealed. "It's a scorpion."
"Oh, no." Gretchen stopped breathing. She felt something on her bare left shoulder. Nina rounded on the poisonous insect. It was apparent that she planned to attack from the back.
Ready to faint, Gretchen reviewed the symptoms of a scorpion sting: excruciating pain, severe swelling. She could live through pain and swelling. Don't panic, she warned herself. Also possible: frothing at the mouth, difficulty breathing, convulsions. Though death from a scorpion sting was rare, she wasn't fond of the convulsion thing. Or of gasping desperately for air. She knew all the trivial details associated with the insect world because the most terrifying thing that could ever cross her path was any sort of bug. Centipedes, ticks, spiders, crickets, the list was infinite. "I hate bugs," she whispered without moving her lips, working to stay in control.
"Get it off."
"Hold still," Nina warned. "They have sense organs on their undersides. Once it senses you, you're a goner."
"That must make her feel real good," April said, talking through the fingers spread across her mouth. "I can't watch." She turned away. "Let me know when it's over."
Gretchen felt it crawl down her arm, and she risked a peek, which didn't help her mental state.
The yellowish insect stared at her through its buggy, blinkless eyes. Lobster-type pinchers and a hooked tail curled across the top of its inch-long body. It was so close she could see the venomous stinger on the tip of its raised tail.
"Help," she croaked.
"As long as the tail is curved on its back like that, you're okay," Nina said from behind her.
"What are you waiting for?" April said. "Get it off her."
"I… I…"
"You can't do it, can you?" April turned to the main aisle and screamed, "Someone help!"
Gretchen felt dangerously light-headed.
"Detective Albright," she heard Nina say. "Quick. Shoot it with your gun."
Gretchen felt a gentle breeze across her arm. She blinked, and the insect was gone.
She saw a sandaled, male foot descend on the invader. The foot zoomed in, the floor rose, and she felt herself falling sideways.
The world went blissfully black.
20
"What a hunk," April exclaimed, wrapping her dimpled arms across her chest. "I'd plant a scorpion on myself if I thought Detective Albright would save me."
"It was a nightmare," Gretchen said from her chair, her voice still shaky. "I can't believe I fainted."
Thanks to April's screams, the Phoenix Dollers show drew to a dramatic close, the grand finale taking place at Gretchen's table with most of the remaining shoppers and dealers looking on.
For the first time in two days, Nina and her traveling dog circus hadn't held center stage.
Gretchen would have gladly given back that dubious honor.
"You would have clunked your head on the floor if Matt's reflexes hadn't been sharp," Nina said.