A Job to Kill For by Janice Kaplan Read Free Book Online Page A

trying to be?”
    “I’m not trying to be anybody except Lacy Fields,” I said, taken aback. “I have enough roles, thank you. Wife, mother, interior decorator. I don’t need to be a detective to grow orchids.”
    “Well, I am a detective, ma’am. Detective Brian Wilson.” He glared at me, as if daring me to make a joke. When I didn’t say a word, he added, “Yup, same name as the lead singer of the Beach Boys.”
    He’d probably spent his whole life being teased. Everything about Detective Wilson suggested beach ball, not Beach Boy. He was short and stout, with a ruddy face and an almost completely bald head. Give him a little kick and he’d probably roll smoothly across the floor.
    “I believe you wanted to give me an update, Officer McSweeney?” I said courteously, turning away from her rude partner.
    She exchanged a look with Detective Wilson. The department had let her stay on the case, partnered with a detective. Probably a big break for her.
    “A few things about the Cassie Crawford case,” McSweeney said, her voice as gentle as his was gruff. “We confirmed that she died from arsenic in the bottled tea. Without your tip, it might have taken us a long time to get to that conclusion. So thank you. Very perceptive.”
    “A little too perceptive,” said Detective Wilson, moving closer and planting himself a few inches in front of me. “Even Nero friggin’ Wolfe would have taken a while to figure that one out. So I’m guessing you knew about the tea before you saw Cassie drink it. Which makes me wonder how you knew. And why you tipped us off.”
    Since we were almost eyeball to eyeball, I took a step back, trying to get him out of my personal space.
    “I appreciate your updates,” I said pleasantly. “But if you have questions, I’d like to have my lawyer present.”
    “Oh, that’s not necessary,” said McSweeney.
    “Nah, not necessary,” echoed Detective Beach Ball. “Why lawyer up? We don’t think you did it.”
    One entry for the good news column.
    “I never knew about that Kirin tea until I saw it in the refrigerator,” I said. “After Cassie got sick and, um, died, I just put two and two together. And got to four.”
    “Yeah, the obvious answer,” said Detective Wilson. He picked at the cuticle on his thumbnail. “The other obvious answer is your friend Molly. She likes this rich guy Roger, but she doesn’t like that he’s married. You give her access to the penthouse, she brings in the tea.”
    “We’re not saying you knew her plan,” said Officer McSweeney quickly.
    “But once you realize what happened, you feel guilty,” continued Wilson. “Death’s never as simple as it seems, right? You don’t want to be charged as an accessory. So you help us along by mentioning the bottles in the refrigerator.”
    I stood frozen for a moment. At least I knew the police theory now. Molly brought in the Kirin to kill Cassie. I knew about it, or at least had guessed. Now I could either turn in Molly or face charges of my own.
    “Interesting speculation, but I decorate on my own. Molly never came with me to the penthouse.”
    Detective Wilson seemed to be waiting for that. “So you wouldn’t know anything about the fingerprints,” he said.
    “No, I wouldn’t.”
    “Remember all that powder being shaken around the penthouse? Wasn’t to take care of babies’ bottoms. CSI identified three sets of fingerprints on the refrigerator: Cassie’s, yours, and Molly’s. We know you were there. We know Cassie was there. But Molly? She didn’t say a word about an earlier visit. Makes you suspicious, doesn’t it? Even of your own friend?”
    I ambled over to the door of the greenhouse.
    “Officer McSweeney, would you like to see my flowers?” I asked.
    She looked surprised. “We should finish talking first.”
    “We’re finished,” I said calmly. “As for the flowers, I’m told there are at least twenty-five thousand species of orchids. I have a very beautiful Phalaenopsis with