side.”
“You have a license?”
“Well, no. Not actually.”
His brow furrowed in concern.
“You can’t be a P.I. without a license.” Now I was nervous.
“It’s all very informal,” I stammered. “I mean, it’s not a real business. I just help people out.”
“It better not be a business,” he said, adjusting the already perfect lineup of his stapler, pencil sharpener and pencil mug. “That’s a violation of Code 286297B.”
“I promise,” I said, sweat beginning to form on my brow, “it’s not a real business.”
“Well, all right,” he said grudgingly. “Now let’s get down to the matter at hand.”
“Do you mind if I ask you something first, Lieutenant?”
“What is it?” There was more than a hint of im-patience in his voice.
“I was just wondering. If you haven’t heard 106
Laura Levine
about me, why did you want to see me before the others?”
“Because your last name begins with A . And I always conduct my interviews alphabetically.” Wow. The guy probably color coded his socks.
“ Now can we get started?” He took out a tape recorder from his desk and clicked it on. “Be sure to speak loudly and clearly.”
I felt like I was back in sixth grade, in Ms. Martin’s Public Speaking class.
Then he took out a steno pad and reached for one of his pencils.
“You’re going to tape me and take notes, too?” He nodded crisply. “Better safe than sorry.” Quick. Somebody send this guy to Fussbudgets Anonymous.
“So,” he asked, sharpening his already sharp pencil. “How well did you know the deceased?”
“Not well at all. I just met her two weeks ago, when I joined the club.”
“Were you fond of her?”
“To be perfectly honest, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because she was an egotistical, cloying jerk.” I didn’t actually put it like that. I figured I’d be a bit more discreet. What I said was, “She seemed a bit self-centered and insensitive.” He nodded, taking notes as I talked. I bet he dotted every damn one of his i’s.
“I don’t think anybody in the club really liked Marybeth,” I said. “Except for Rochelle. Until she found out about Marybeth’s affair with her husband. Then, of course, she got angry. But really, Lieutenant, I can’t believe Rochelle is capable of murder.”
Clemmons looked up from his notes.
THE PMS MURDERS
107
“Why don’t you let us be the judge of that, Ms.
Austen?” he said, plunging his pencil into his sharpener. For crying out loud, he’d been writing for all of thirty seconds; it couldn’t possibly have needed sharpening.
“Can you think of anyone else in the club who might have had a motive to kill Marybeth?” I hesitated to get Colin in trouble with the police, but I felt like I had no alternative. I told him how angry Colin had been at Marybeth for passing him over for a promotion.
“He said he wanted to kill her. It’s hard to believe he really meant it. But he was at Rochelle’s house a full half-hour before the rest of us got there. I can’t help wondering if he had time to sneak down to the kitchen when Rochelle wasn’t around and add the peanut oil to the guacamole.” Once again, Clemmons looked up sharply from his notes.
“How did you know about the peanut oil?”
“I saw one of the police officers show you the bottle. And I figured it out.” Clemmons scowled. He clearly didn’t like me figuring things out.
“What about the others? Did you see anyone go into the kitchen alone that night?”
“No, we were all wandering around, looking at Rochelle’s new bathroom. It was hard to keep track of who went where. I suppose any of them could have slipped into the kitchen. Except Pam Kenton, of course. She and I were together the whole evening.”
Clemmons smiled a smile that oozed cynicism.
“Oh? How convenient for both of you.” Damn. Pam was right. He thought we were covering for each other.
108
Laura Levine
“I can assure you, Lieutenant, neither of us went anywhere near
“You have a license?”
“Well, no. Not actually.”
His brow furrowed in concern.
“You can’t be a P.I. without a license.” Now I was nervous.
“It’s all very informal,” I stammered. “I mean, it’s not a real business. I just help people out.”
“It better not be a business,” he said, adjusting the already perfect lineup of his stapler, pencil sharpener and pencil mug. “That’s a violation of Code 286297B.”
“I promise,” I said, sweat beginning to form on my brow, “it’s not a real business.”
“Well, all right,” he said grudgingly. “Now let’s get down to the matter at hand.”
“Do you mind if I ask you something first, Lieutenant?”
“What is it?” There was more than a hint of im-patience in his voice.
“I was just wondering. If you haven’t heard 106
Laura Levine
about me, why did you want to see me before the others?”
“Because your last name begins with A . And I always conduct my interviews alphabetically.” Wow. The guy probably color coded his socks.
“ Now can we get started?” He took out a tape recorder from his desk and clicked it on. “Be sure to speak loudly and clearly.”
I felt like I was back in sixth grade, in Ms. Martin’s Public Speaking class.
Then he took out a steno pad and reached for one of his pencils.
“You’re going to tape me and take notes, too?” He nodded crisply. “Better safe than sorry.” Quick. Somebody send this guy to Fussbudgets Anonymous.
“So,” he asked, sharpening his already sharp pencil. “How well did you know the deceased?”
“Not well at all. I just met her two weeks ago, when I joined the club.”
“Were you fond of her?”
“To be perfectly honest, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because she was an egotistical, cloying jerk.” I didn’t actually put it like that. I figured I’d be a bit more discreet. What I said was, “She seemed a bit self-centered and insensitive.” He nodded, taking notes as I talked. I bet he dotted every damn one of his i’s.
“I don’t think anybody in the club really liked Marybeth,” I said. “Except for Rochelle. Until she found out about Marybeth’s affair with her husband. Then, of course, she got angry. But really, Lieutenant, I can’t believe Rochelle is capable of murder.”
Clemmons looked up from his notes.
THE PMS MURDERS
107
“Why don’t you let us be the judge of that, Ms.
Austen?” he said, plunging his pencil into his sharpener. For crying out loud, he’d been writing for all of thirty seconds; it couldn’t possibly have needed sharpening.
“Can you think of anyone else in the club who might have had a motive to kill Marybeth?” I hesitated to get Colin in trouble with the police, but I felt like I had no alternative. I told him how angry Colin had been at Marybeth for passing him over for a promotion.
“He said he wanted to kill her. It’s hard to believe he really meant it. But he was at Rochelle’s house a full half-hour before the rest of us got there. I can’t help wondering if he had time to sneak down to the kitchen when Rochelle wasn’t around and add the peanut oil to the guacamole.” Once again, Clemmons looked up sharply from his notes.
“How did you know about the peanut oil?”
“I saw one of the police officers show you the bottle. And I figured it out.” Clemmons scowled. He clearly didn’t like me figuring things out.
“What about the others? Did you see anyone go into the kitchen alone that night?”
“No, we were all wandering around, looking at Rochelle’s new bathroom. It was hard to keep track of who went where. I suppose any of them could have slipped into the kitchen. Except Pam Kenton, of course. She and I were together the whole evening.”
Clemmons smiled a smile that oozed cynicism.
“Oh? How convenient for both of you.” Damn. Pam was right. He thought we were covering for each other.
108
Laura Levine
“I can assure you, Lieutenant, neither of us went anywhere near
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