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.“You were seen fighting with Mr.Fontanne around.” Urso consulted his notes again.“Eight forty-five P.M.”She’d had a second fight? Oh, my.What had prompted the confrontation? If only she’d stayed with Edsel.Quinn mumbled something.“Give me a yes or no, Miss Vance,” Urso said, his voice firm and coaxing.Quinn looked up at him through tear-soaked lashes.“Yes.”“What were you arguing about?”“I want a lawyer,” Freddy yelled.“For yourself or your daughter?” Urso said.“For Quinn.”“She’s not under arrest.” Urso eyed Quinn.“Do you want a lawyer? Do you want to go that route?”Quinn sat as tall as she could.“I don’t need one.”Urso looked triumphant.“Go on, then.The argument.”Quinn sighed.“He didn’t like me flirting with other guys.”It sounded like a continuation of the same argument that Harker and she had when they had run into the kitchen at the mansion.Were they, as Freddy said, always “at it”? Why would Quinn choose someone who treated her badly? Why did so many women do that? Me, included—up until Creep Chef left.For a couple of months after he ditched me, I went to a therapist to figure out why I was attracted to jerks.It turned out that I didn’t think I was worthy of better, something to do with being orphaned as a young girl.I’d vowed, then and there, to change my pattern.“Were you flirting, Miss Vance?” Urso asked, drawing me back into the conversation at hand.“Sort of.I mean, yes.Not to make him jealous, though.Just because.well, it’s what I do.My father does the same thing.He’s not interested in that Westerton lady.But he’s flirting with her.Right, Daddy?” Quinn twisted in her chair and gazed at Freddy, begging him to agree with her.“I mean, you’ve only known her a few days.It’s not like it’s serious or anything, is it, Daddy?”I wondered if Winona was outside listening at the door to get the scoop.Her ears had to be burning.“Daddy, answer me.”Freddy released the chair.“Oh, Daddy!” Quinn folded her arms on the table and collapsed on top of them in tears.Urso huffed, probably wondering how he’d allowed his interrogation to turn into a soap opera.I was wondering the same thing.But I was more curious why Freddy was keeping mute.What hold did Winona Westerton have over him?Urso patted the table.“Folks, please, can we stay on topic?”I turned to face him.“Do you have anything else except hearsay?”“We have an eyewitness who saw Miss Vance and the deceased arguing about a half hour before time of death.”“Who saw them?”“Tyanne Taylor.”Oh, my.Slightly damning.After last year’s fiasco, Tyanne had sworn off lying for life.I’d gotten the impression that she’d wanted to say something to me at The Cheese Shop.I wish she had.I wouldn’t have felt so blindsided now.“What did Tyanne say they argued about?” I asked.“She couldn’t be specific.”Good.That would give a lawyer something to work with.Did Quinn require one? I tried to decipher what was going on in her mind.She was massaging her left wrist, looking like a trapped animal that desperately needed to escape.Urso referred to his notes again.“Mrs.Taylor believes she heard Miss Vance say that she was going to kill Mr.Fontanne if he kept hounding her.”“That’s not—” Quinn gulped.Meredith and Freddy blanched.“I didn’t mean it like that.I—” Quinn folded her hands in front of her.“Hasn’t anybody here ever said that?”“I have,” I said.Urso gave me a baleful look.He knew I was fibbing.On our sole date back in high school, I’d told him a deep, dark secret.The day before my parents died in the car crash, my mother had taken my doll away from me.Even at the tender age of three, I’d learned enough from television to yell, “I’m going to kill you.” How was I supposed to know that she’d simply taken Dollie to wash the jam off of her face? When my mother pushed me from the blazing car, she said, “Don’t watch too much television.Promise.” All these years, I couldn’t help but feel her death was my fault.Why had the car skidded? Had I somehow altered the universe with my petty vow?“That’s not enough to go on, Chief Urso,” I said.“What else do you have?”“Plenty.”“Like what?” I could be tough when necessary.According to Grandmère, I had inherited the stubborn quality from my mother’s Irish side.“Hard physical evidence,” Urso said, equally obstinate.“What kind of evidence?”“A ring.”“Which ring?” I snapped.Twenty questions was not my favorite game.“A silver ring with a sapphire in it,” Urso answered.“Inside it reads: Mine, all mine.Mrs.Taylor saw Miss Vance throw it at Mr.Fontanne.I discovered it clenched in Mr.Fontanne’s hand.”I flashed on the moment when Dane was teasing Quinn at the fund-raiser.Her ring had gotten caught in the knitted loops of her multicolored scarf.Was it the ring in question?Quinn’s face twisted with pain.She pinched her lips together, but she wasn’t strong enough to keep from blurting, “It was my ring.His ring.The ring he gave me a month ago.We were making plans to get married.”“Married?” Freddy yelped.“We were in love.But then he got all bent out of shape, and I got angry, and, well, he started yelling, and I threw the ring at him.He didn’t catch it.He let it fall to the floor.” Quinn swallowed hard.“It wasn’t like it was special or anything.It was a hand-me-down.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and sucked in a sob.“I’m in real trouble, aren’t I?”Urso nodded.Meredith ran to me and clutched my hands.“Do something!”Urso gave a curt shake of his head, warning me off.But I had to do something.Meredith was like family.That made Quinn family, too.CHAPTER 12When Urso took Quinn into custody, I provided Meredith and Freddy with the number for Mr.Lincoln, the lawyer who had helped with Grandmère’s defense last year.Clueless as to what else I could do, I returned to the shop.I puttered through the regular closing chores—wrapping cheeses, wiping down the counters, packaging quiches and returning them to the large refrigerator in the kitchen at the rear of the store.And though I wasn’t hungry, I nibbled on a slice of day-old quiche.I needed to keep my brain fueled.Around six, Rebecca reminded me that it was Girls’ Night Out.I was reluctant to go, but Matthew said he’d take full charge of the twins for dinner, and Rebecca wouldn’t accept no for an answer.Bozz, who looked as pleased as punch because he had deftly handled the few stalwart newshounds who had lingered around until he’d arrived at three thirty, said he would close up shop.We met Delilah outside Timothy O’Shea’s Irish Pub at six thirty.Rebecca quickly filled her in on the day’s strange turn of events.She added that Meredith wouldn’t be joining us.Mr.Lincoln had granted Freddy and her a late-night appointment.“I’ll bet Urso isn’t happy about you wanting to help Quinn,” Delilah said as she pushed open the antique oak door that Tim had bought from some defunct Irish castle.“That’s an understatement.”I paused in the entry to let my eyes adjust to the greengelled lighting.Every day was St.Patrick’s Day to Tim [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]