Love Can Be Murder

it out without a mob scene."
    She shrugged into her coat and slid past him into the showroom. Marie looked up and gave a little wave, and Penny gave her a reassuring smile. Thankfully, they made it through both rooms and to the parking lot with no incident. Dusk was falling—the street lights were already flickering. Guy unlocked and opened the door of the Lexus for her, and she slid in, sinking into the luxurious, squeaky leather.
    "This is nice," she said when he climbed in.
    "Thanks."
    She inhaled. "It still smells new."
    "Well, it's only a few months old."
    She nudged him playfully. "By the way, how do you afford a car like this on what I pay you?"
    He laughed. "I'm very frugal."
    "I'll say." She glanced around while he backed out of the parking lot, making silent comparisons to the dumpy green sedan B.J. drove. The man truly was a slob. Then her gaze caught on something in the back floorboard sticking out from under the driver seat, and her jaw loosened. "Guy—is that a gun?"
    He blanched, then he gave a nervous laugh. "It's not mine—I borrowed it from a friend." He sighed. "Okay, I guess the whole thing with Deke has got me spooked. I thought it wouldn't hurt to have some protection."
    "I thought you believed that Sheena murdered Deke."
    "I do," he said, his voice wavering.
    "So what—you think she's a serial killer?"
    He laughed. "That would make a great movie, wouldn't it?"
    Penny frowned. "Are you really scared?"
    "Aren't you?" He waved to the bustling throngs of people spilling over the sidewalks. "This kind of festival brings out the psychos, Penny. Speaking of which, who is this P.I. you're working with?"
    "I don't think B.J. is a psycho."
    "Really? How did you get hooked up with him?"
    She bristled. "He was at Caskey's. It was...a chance meeting."
    He pulled into the side street leading to her apartment and slowed. "Hm. Kind of coincidental, don't you think?"
    A warning bell sounded in the corners of her mind. "What do you mean?"
    Guy wet his thin lips. "Just be careful—something evil is in the air."
    A finger of fear tickled her neck as the car filled with a cloying tension. In the dim light, Guy looked al most... sinister. Her breath caught in her throat. Then he lunged for her, and she cried out. He reached across her to tug the door handle. Her door clicked open, then he pulled back and frowned. "Are you okay?"
    She put her hand to her throat. "You just startled me. I guess it was all that talk about... danger."
    He gave her a sad little smile. "Try to get some rest."
    She nodded. "Thanks for the ride. See you Monday."
    "Want to ride with me to the funeral?"
    "Okay." She stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk, trying to shake the creepy feeling that had come over her. She watched Guy's car disappear, slowly obscured by pedestrians who seemed determined to crowd cars off the streets. She gazed out over the square, where the crowd was even larger, the scene even more uncontrolled than it had been last night.
    The people seemed to be caught up in a tangible, convulsive energy. The drummers in the batri were relentless, their pounding and beating an almost continuous noise. The costumed dancers were impossibly vigorous, some of them draped with live snakes. The purple smoke from the peristil fire seemed to hang it self on everything. The scent of eucalyptus—perhaps an attempt to cleanse the air of the stench of perspiration and animal flesh—burned her nose.
    But when she walked around the corner, the sickly sweet odor of beignets cut through everything else. She sighed and fished for her key.
    A squatty, sweaty man appeared out of nowhere, in vading her personal space. "An interview for the Post, Ms. Francisco?"
    "No," she snapped, opening the door. "Leave or I'll call the police."
    "Call the police—or put the voodoo on me?"
    Penny glared at him. "Don't tempt me." She stepped into the tiny entryway and let the door slam behind her, reducing the blare of the festival noise to a muf fled hum.
    If possible, the dim overhead light seemed even more faint as her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. She felt for the light switch and flipped it, praying that her landlord had replaced the bulb.
    Nothing. She groaned in frustration—Elton was going to hear about this.
    She started climbing the steps, silently cursing Guy for leaving her so spooked. Borrowing a gun—what was he thinking? And all his talk about evil in the air. He was making her imagine things. She reached the landing. Things