Love Can Be Murder

wouldn't. Don't do it, she pleaded silently.
    "I—" Angora said, and all eyes went to her.
    "Yes?" Mason prompted.
    She looked at Roxann, desperation on her face. "I...don't have anything to add to my story."
    Roxann exhaled slowly.
    Mason's mouth went flat and he closed the folder, smacking it back on top of the pile. "All right, then, we're finished here. By the way, we're going to try you ladies at the same time." He stood and gathered his things, then strode from the room with his assistant on his heels.
    Roxann's attorney had fallen asleep during the commotion. The woman obviously shut down in the face of stress. Roxann scribbled "You're fired" on a sheet of paper, stuck it on Troy's briefcase, then wheeled her out in the hall in the rolling chair.
    When she came back in the room, she looked at Angora. "Can I talk to you—alone?"
    "Stay away from her," Dee said to Roxann. "Angora should have turned you in when she had the chance."
    But Roxann was still looking at Angora, who nodded. "Wait for me in the hall," she said to her parents, and to her attorney. When the door closed, Roxann eased into a chair in front of her cousin. "How are you feeling?"
    "Not great," she said. "I feel like I've been turned inside out, and those crabby nurses aren't giving me as many painkillers as before."
    Roxann smiled. "They must not realize they have a celebrity on their hands—Miss Northwestern Baton Rouge."
    Angora smiled back, then her eyes filled with tears. "The police won't give me back my crown."
    "Isn't that a coincidence—you lost a crown and I have a spare one lying around somewhere."
    She lit up. "You mean it?"
    Roxann sighed. "Angora, you know better than anyone that I didn't deserve that Distinguished Alumni award. So cheer me up a little by taking that thing off my hands."
    She looked back, bit into her lip, and smiled. "Okay." Then she teared up again. "Roxann, I'm sorry I said those terrible things about your mother."
    She squeezed Angora's hand. "It's okay. I'm grateful to you for telling me—now I realize what my dad was going through." She smiled. "And now I understand why you were so lenient on him."
    Angora nodded. "Your dad's great."
    "Yeah. It was nice of your parents to come up."
    "I suppose. Is your dad coming?"
    "No, I asked him not to. I hope I convinced him that this is one big misunderstanding that will unravel in a few days."
    "Is it?" Angora asked. "Is it one big misunderstanding?"
    Roxann inhaled and looked into Angora's eyes. "Angora, I'm going to ask you a question, and you have to be honest with me. I swear, whatever the answer is, I'll help you get through it, okay?"
    Angora nodded.
    "Did you do any of those things to Carl that the DA said happened—did you hit him, or strangle him with my scarf?"
    Her lower lip began to tremble. "I didn't hit him, but..."
    Roxann's stomach pitched. "But?"
    "But I keep having these terrible visions of him lying on the floor with that green scarf around his neck. And I don't know if they're real, or if it's something that's gotten in my head. I do that sometimes—think about something so hard that I can't remember if I made it up, or if it really happened."
    "Did you find my scarf somewhere?"
    "No. I'm sure about that part."
    Roxann smiled. "Well, then, don't you see? If you didn't find my scarf, then you couldn't have done it."
    Angora hiccupped. "Unless Carl found your scarf. We were at the same restaurant that night."
    Roxann stared. "Utopia?"
    "Yes. I didn't see you, but the police told me you and Nell were there."
    "We were."
    "Is that where you lost your scarf?"
    "It's possible," she murmured, trying to think back. "I remember going to the ladies' room, and... and I made some calls at the pay phone."
    Angora's eyes widened. "Carl made a call, too."
    Roxann grinned. "Angora, you're a genius."
    "I am?"
    "Yes—I'll bet that's what happened. I assumed that the killer found my scarf and used it, but maybe Carl found it and was keeping it to give back to me later. Maybe it was just there, and the killer used it."
    "Wow, I am a genius."
    She laughed. "And now that one mystery is solved, we can start looking for other clues."
    "But what about my... visions?"
    Roxann angled her head. "Angora, in these visions, what does Carl look like?"
    "He's lying on the floor, looking straight up at me, with his eyes wide open, staring through his glasses."
    "That's definitely not how Carl looked in the crime-scene photos—and he wasn't even wearing his glasses."
    Angora