A Fatal Twist of Lemon by Patrice Greenwood Page A

“then I’ll file a complaint for harassment and illegal search!”
    â€œYou forget the warrant.”
    â€œYou didn’t have it when you went through my desk last night!”
    He didn’t have an answer for that, so he just glared at me, nostrils flaring with each angry breath. He looked rather magnificent actually, though I wasn’t in an admiring mood.
    â€œI have been very patient, Detective,” I said with what calm I could muster, “but I do have a business to run.”
    A corner of his mouth curled up in a sneer. “Yeah, you look real busy giving press conferences. That’ll give your sales a boost.”
    I was stung, partly because of Gina’s pushing me to do the interviews for just that reason. I took a careful breath before answering.
    â€œContrary to your obvious belief, I am not talking to the press because I want to. I’m talking to them because they won’t leave me alone. When they ask for details I refer them to the police.”
    â€œOh, thank you very much, your highness.”
    â€œI beg your pardon!”
    He stepped toward me, thrusting out his jaw. “It’s all a game to you, isn’t it? You come in here and fill this place with Victorian crap—”
    â€œIt’s a Victorian house!”
    That just made him madder. “You people don’t give a shit about Santa Fe, you just think it’s fun to move in here and play tea parties! Play gallery owner or antique dealer—”
    â€œI was born in Santa Fe!”
    â€œYeah, but was your grandmother?” he said nastily.
    â€œYes, as a matter of fact!”
    He stopped short, blinking in surprise, then scowled. His jaw worked for a moment and I thought he was about to say something else, but instead he brushed past me and stormed out the front door.
    I watched him go, stunned by the strange turn the argument had taken. A moment later the roar of a motorcycle engine sounded, swiftly fading into the muted noise of traffic and rain.
    A smattering of applause made me turn around. Julio, Mick, Dee, Vi, and Nat stood gathered in the hall near the kitchen. Kris was on the stairs just below the landing, one hand on the banister, peering down at me.
    â€œWell,” she said, sounding highly amused, “you gave him what-for, didn’t you?” She showed a Cleopatra smile, then went back upstairs.
    Nat hurried toward me. “Brava, darling. That man’s had a chip on his shoulder ever since he walked in here.”
    â€œWell, I didn’t set out to knock it off,” I said, trying for a laugh. “I’m just glad there weren’t any customers here.”
    In fact, I was shaken, and when Nat pulled me into the main parlor I didn’t resist. She led me to Rose and nudged me toward one of the wing chairs by the fire.
    â€œYou sit down and relax for a minute. You’ve been on your feet most of the day.”
    â€œThere’s one more TV crew coming—”
    â€œThey can wait. You haven’t eaten anything, have you?”
    â€œA couple of scones, and I did have breakfast.”
    â€œThat was hours ago. I’ll go fetch you something.” She bustled off, leaving me to frown at the raindrops running down the window.
    I hadn’t intended to argue with Detective Aragón, and I had a feeling I was going to regret it. I knew he considered me a suspect for Sylvia’s murder. Would he carry out his threat and charge me with obstructing the investigation?
    Nat returned almost at once with a tray bearing a steaming bowl of soup and half a grilled cheese sandwich. I thanked her and set about devouring them while she went out to watch for the news crew.
    Julio had done something wonderful and subtle with the soup, some combination of herbs that made me think of French cuisine and New Mexican food at the same time. I felt better almost at once, and when the last news crew arrived I was able to face them with a good grace and