Alex Harris 00 - Armed

up the South American market for us, but Richard, or maybe even I, will have to go down. I think it’s a bit big for her anyway.” Mr. Poupée stood and looked at John. “I just can’t believe all this is happening. Not just the diamonds, but that Emmanuelle killed Elvira because she found out. And how did she find out? Why did she ask for the printout, why for that time period, why pin it on Emmanuelle in the first place? All these questions and no answers!” Mr. Poupée fumed. “It’s just too much. If you don’t mind, Detective, I’d like to go home.”
    “I think that’s a good idea. We could all use some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

    The next night I backed my car out of my garage at six-thirty. Stars filled the night sky where only hours before it had been brilliantly lit by the sun. The air was as crisp as an apple plucked off a tree. I should know. I’ve plucked my share of apples off of other people’s trees, surprisingly only getting caught once.
    I headed for the turnpike anxious to meet my best friend, Mary-Beth Ramsey. Twenty minutes later I snagged a prime parking space just vacated by a woman with a minivan packed to capacity with packages and children.
    I stood in front of the Herbal Garden Restaurant and looked out over the flow of last-minute Christmas shoppers.
    “See anything interesting?”
    I turned and hugged Mary-Beth. Almost five months had passed since we last saw each other. We had a lot of catching up to do. A young hostess arrived at our table with a basket of freshly baked bread and a cup of soft butter laced with honey. I grabbed a slice still warm from the oven and heaped a large dollop of the softened butter on top.
    “You look like hell. What’s going on?” Mary-Beth never minced words.
    “A lot’s been happening. I’ll fill you in over dinner.”
    A cheery waitress recited the evening’s specials and we decided on the Cheddar Chicken. Then I told Mary-Beth all.
    She reached across the table and patted my hand. “Well, no wonder you look so bad. Diamond smuggling and murder in Indian Cove. Wow.”
    Our steaming entrees arrived: grilled chicken with a mustard sauce atop a bed of buttered noodles covered with bubbling cheddar cheese. How it managed to be on a health food menu I hadn’t a clue.
    “In all this, I did manage to make a few new friends.”
    Mary-Beth took a bite of her chicken. “Besides the detective, and I want up-to-the-minute bulletins on your progress with him, who else have you met?”
    “Mrs. Haddock.”
    “The woman who saw someone in front of Mrs. Scott’s?”
    “Yes.”
    “Alex, you look funny. What’s wrong?” Mary-Beth asked.
    I put my fork down and wiped my chin. “I never thought about it until now, but Mrs. Haddock saw the person in front of the house a long time ago.”
    “So?”
    “If what Mr. Absher said is correct, and if Sandy only heard Mrs. Scott and Emmanuelle arguing a few days before Mrs. Scott’s death, then why would Emmanuelle have been out in front of Mrs. Scott’s house over six months ago?”
    “Maybe the old woman got it wrong. Maybe she meant six weeks, not months,” Mary-Beth offered.
    “Even six weeks doesn’t fit.”
    “How about this, Mrs. Scott didn’t suspect Emmanuelle until recently, but Emmanuelle suspected that Mrs. Scott suspected her much sooner?”
    I replayed that confusing sentence in my head and pondered this new scenario for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    Mary-Beth pointed her fork at me. “Why would she single Mrs. Scott out and stalk her?”
    “Hey, Mary-Beth! It was your idea.”
    Mary-Beth put the fork down and leaned on the table. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”
    “I don’t think it was Emmanuelle out in front of Mrs. Scott’s.”
    “Then who?” Mary-Beth asked.
    “I don’t know. But you know what? I’m tired of talking about murder. I want gossip! Tell me who you’ve seen and what they’re up to.”
    Mary-Beth Ramsey’s family had moved into my neighborhood when we were ten and we instantly hit it off. For nine years, our telephone rang every night with the words I loved to hear—Guess what I heard?
    Shorter and rounder than me, she wore her dark hair in an updated Dorothy Hamill look. She still had a handful of freckles sprinkled around her nose and perfectly round doe eyes with thick lashes. The gold balls at her ears where the same earrings she had been wearing forever.
    “Well? Give! What do you