Diva Runs Out Of Thyme

Skewered

After what seemed an eternity, a man with skin drawn tightly over the contours of his face flashed a badge at me and said he was Detective Kenner. I told him the whole story.

When I finished, he said, “You know the store has cameras. We’ll be able to verify what you’ve said.”

Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “So you’ll be able to see who killed that guy and put him in the Dumpster.”

“How do you know he was murdered?”

“Most people don’t bleed spontaneously from the chest.”

His cold eyes narrowed. “You’re in a lot of trouble, Mrs. Winston. Being a wiseacre isn’t going to help any.”

Was he trying to scare me? “I didn’t do anything. The store videos will back that up.”

“Then how do you explain the blood on your sweater?”