Alex Harris 00 - Armed

mugs.
    Sam took her mug to the living room and put her tea on the coffee table. “This should be a tea table. We never drink coffee.”
    I placed a plate of shortbread cookies beside the cups and sat at the other end of the sofa. I didn’t bother having dessert at the restaurant because Peter seemed to be getting the wrong idea about the evening. When the hand that had been scrounging around in his ear reached across the table to take mine, I knew I wanted to leave.
    “So?” Sam asked impatiently. “Tell me all.”
    I bit into a cookie. “Well, first I went to the police station. I don’t know if I convinced Detective Van der Burg or not. But at least I tried.”
    “He’s pretty cute, by the way. I wouldn’t mind having a few interrogation sessions with him myself.” She raised her eyebrows several times.
    “ Then I went over to Poupée,” I said, ignoring my happily married sister who would never dream of straying from her husband. “You know,” I took another bite of my cookie, “I think something funny is going on over there.”
    “How so?”
    “I’m not sure. You know Mrs. Scott could be difficult at times.”
    “Tell me about it. She almost bit my head off over that one invoice a few months ago.”
    “Well, I think she rubbed a few people the wrong way at work, too. Now does that mean she made them mad enough to kill her? I haven’t figured that out yet but I think there are people who, once I get them started, might spill out a lot of information.” I reached for a jar of M&M’s on the end table and took a handful.
    “So what about Mr. Poupée and Mrs. Scott? Did you get up the nerve to ask if they had been rolling around together behind the copy machine?”
    “Samantha.” I rolled my eyes, hypocrite that I was because the thought had crossed my mind once or twice. “I did talk to him about it, though in a much more tactful way. All very innocent. He said that after her husband died, he sometimes went over to help out with stuff.”
    Sam took a sip of tea and then looked up. “You believe him?”
    I shrugged. “Hard to tell. I usually believe everyone, but I’ve been telling myself all day no one is going to jump up and admit to killing her. They’ll all have their stories ready. I’m going to have to sort through all the rubbish. Which brings me to this.” I turned to better face my sister. “I know we need to be out there at work, trying to bring in more business but I’ve got to figure this thing out and not just because of the shovel. I’m sure the police will realize before long I didn’t kill her, but…”
    “But what?”
    “I’m ashamed to admit this and I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone, but I’m nosy. I never realized it before, but I am. I want to find out who killed her for the sheer pleasure of finding out. I’m a horrible person.”
    Sam put her cup down. “No, you’re not. You’re human. And you do have a vested interest. You found Mrs. Scott and the police do consider you a suspect.” My sister leaned back and smiled.
    “Why are you smiling?”
    “Because you may have not realized how nosy you are but the rest of us figured it out a long time ago.”
    I put a pout on my face. “Well, it’s not all about being nosy. I don’t think prison orange is my color, and I’m pretty certain the warden doesn’t hand out paper toilet seat covers. And that toilet is just there ! Right out in front of everyone. Another thing,” I said indignantly, “I don’t like sharing a room.”
    Sam gave me a small smile. “I don’t think you have to worry about prison. The only thing I ask is you go with me to the meeting with Mr. Brandon. If we can get his business, it’ll be a big help. I’m working on a few other leads I think might pan out, so don’t worry. Things are going to pick up. Oh, and there is one other thing,” she said as she took another cookie. “Grandpa. We need to go see him before Christmas.”
    “Isn’t he going to spend Christmas day with us?”
    “Nope. He loves his new home at Mills Pond and that’s where he wants to stay. Now,” Sam took my hand, “what happened with Peter?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

    I turned my Honda right at the corner and expertly wound my way through quiet streets where families still slept. The mannequin from hell had visited again and I needed to get out of my house. Only one person I knew would be up at this early hour. And I do mean early. A light snow once again sprinkled my windshield. I turned on the