Love Can Be Murder

table. "Face it, Mr. Mason. You have nothing but circumstantial evidence, or you wouldn't have arrested both of us. You need an eyewitness, which you don't have. But you and I know that if you put us both on trial, it'll be easy to generate doubt among the jurors. If that's not enough, we'll throw in the fact that I'm being stalked by a man who threatened to hurt people around me, and who, by the way, is still unaccounted for. If you think we're lying, then give us a lie detector test, but don't try to bribe us into making up something to incriminate the other just so you can dangle someone in front of the press and the public."
    He lifted an eyebrow. "Maybe you should have been a lawyer, Ms. Beadleman." Then his smile vanished. "But the way we see it, you two could have been in cahoots to get rid of the man. We found these lists that the two of you made where Dr. Seger seems to be the target of some kind of sexual fantasy."
    She set her jaw. "Those were harmless ramblings of youth."
    "We were smoking dope," Angora offered.
    Roxann closed her eyes, and Dee said, "See, see, I told you—Roxann is a bad influence."
    "Maybe," Mason said, "the two of you went over to his house for a threesome, and things got out of hand. The medical examiner's report said that the alcohol level in Dr. Seger's blood was near the legal limit. And he was already unconscious when he was strangled."
    "He had passed out?"
    "No—hit from behind with a blunt object on the base of the skull."
    Roxann digested this new bit of information. "But if we had hit him, then strangled him, why would we incriminate ourselves by leaving behind a very identifiable scarf?"
    Mason shrugged. "Some killers get a kick out of leaving a souvenir. It's not my job to look into your psyche, Ms. Beadleman. It's my job to prove that you have motive, means, and opportunity." He looked back and forth between them. "The offer is on the table for two more minutes, then you both can take your chances."
    "What about the other murder charge?" Mr. Brown asked and looked at his notes. "A student named Tammy Paulen?"
    Mason looked at his assistant, who offered Brown a flat smile. "We're willing to drop those charges if your client cooperates."
    Roxann's eyes bugged. If she cooperates? They might as well have said if she hands them Roxann’s head on a platter. "Why?" she pressed. "Why would you drop the charges if you have evidence of a crime?"
    The lady DA fidgeted, then said, "Some of the files from the Paulen case seem to be missing. So... we'll be dropping those charges, regardless."
    Mason tapped his watch. "One minute, ladies."
    Angora looked at her from across the room, and Roxann saw thirty years of hurt, jealousy, and disappointment in her eyes. Angora's lips parted and she started to say something, then stopped. She shifted in her wheelchair, and tears glistened in her eyes. Dee was pumping her hand.
    Angora could do it all in one fell swoop, Roxann realized—pin the blame on the cousin she saw as competition, and exonerate herself in the eyes of the parents she so wanted to please. Roxann swallowed. And if Angora was guilty, then she had even more incentive to fabricate a story. And when it suited her, Angora could lie like a Persian rug.
    She maintained eye contact as the seconds ticked away and the tension mounted. The faint odor of the throw-up had found its way out from under the trash can. A fly buzzed lazily on the light fixture above the table. The assistant DA clicked the end of her pen in slow, steady succession.
    Dee whispered furiously in Angora's ear. When her cousin looked away, Roxann began to nurse a bad, bad feeling. Angora suddenly shoved at her mother and cleared her throat.
    "Mr. Mason... if you had an eyewitness to the crime, what would the charge be?"
    Oh, God.
    Mason bounced the tips of his fingers together. "Since Dr. Seger was already unconscious when he was strangled, it clearly was not accidental, nor a crime of passion, nor of self-defense. We'd be charging first-degree murder."
    "And the sentence?" Angora asked.
    "Life in prison."
    Roxann knew Angora well enough to know when she was terrified—the question was, was she terrified that Roxann had seen something through the window? If so, was she contemplating turning on Roxann first?
    "Angora—" she began, but Mason stopped her.
    "No conferring, Ms. Beadleman, unless it's with your attorney. My watch says fifteen seconds."
    She wet her lips and willed Angora to look at her, but she