as she turned her brown eyes toward Declan.
“You can’t think that I had anything to do with it,” she protested, obviously feeling that was enough to terminate any further questions.
She was surprised then to hear Declan ask, “Did you?”
“No!” she exclaimed loudly. “We were finished and he finally got that through his thick skull. I didn’t have to kill him,” she declared flatly.
And then suddenly, just as the topic seemed to be closing, Melissa’s eyes widened and she looked at Charley, recognition setting in. “You’re his—his friend, aren’t you?” she asked. “Don’t deny it, I recognize you. There’s a picture of you in his house.”
“I have no intention of denying it,” Charley told her coolly. “We were friends—and I want to find out what happened to my friend.” There was just the slightest pause between the last two words, one she hoped Declan didn’t hear. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you did it.”
“Oh.” Caught off guard, Melissa smiled, almost magnanimously. “You don’t?”
“No, I don’t,” Charley replied. “Something like that takes a lot of planning. That’s not exactly your strong point.”
Brow furrowed again, Melissa looked at Declan. “Did she just insult me?”
“No,” he reassured her. “From where I’m standing, she was just stating a fact.”
“Oh,” Melissa murmured, her expression that of a woman who was clearly bewildered.
What in heaven’s name had her brother ever seen in this half-witted woman? Granted Melissa Merryweather’s body was a knockout, but Matt had standards. He had a brain and he required conversation, at least occasionally. From all indications, Melissa had the kind of brain where thoughts went to die, not flourish, Charley thought.
And then she shrugged inwardly. She supposed that everyone had their weak point, their waterloo. Matt’s reaction to Melissa didn’t have to make sense to her, it only had to make it to him, she decided.
Melissa looked rather subdued as she asked Declan, “Do I really need an alibi for last night?”
“It would help,” he told her.
Melissa sighed, as if she knew that what she was about to say took her out of any game that might be played out between her and the good-looking detective, at least for tonight.
“I was with Josh,” she reluctantly told him.
“Josh?” Declan repeated, waiting for more.
Melissa shrugged, annoyed to be put in this sort of a spot. “I don’t know his last name. He’s staying here at the hotel for a few days. Business,” she added importantly, then recited, “Room number 805. He stayed here until closing time last night and then we went up to his room.”
“Unbelievable,” Charley murmured under her breath.
She looked to Declan to wrap this preliminary—and hopefully the only—interview and do what they had to do to tie this up with a bow. She was anxious to begin actively investigating Matt’s murder. This was only a waste of time.
* * *
Melissa’s story checked out.
“Josh” in room 805 was Josh Walters and he confirmed that she had spent the night with him. The pharmaceutical sales rep was more than willing to volunteer a detailed account of their sleepless, active night together.
“That’s all right,” Charley said, cutting him short, “we just needed to have her alibi confirmed.”
“It’s confirmed all right,” Josh said with bright-eyed enthusiasm. “I had no idea the human body could bend that way,” he said with a laugh. And then he suddenly sobered. “Hey, she’s not in any trouble, is she?”
“None except with her conscience,” Charley said.
“’Cause I don’t even know the woman,” he continued as if nothing had been said in response.
“Other than the fact that she’s very flexible,” Declan interjected.
Josh had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Yeah, except for that.”
The sales rep looked from one detective to the other. “Am I free to go? ’Cause I have this meeting I’m supposed to be attending at three—”
“You’re as free as a bird,” Declan told him. The hotel door instantly closed on both of them, the sales rep gladly putting both of them—and most likely his friendly bartender—into his past.
With a sigh, Declan headed for the elevator. “Well, you were right.” Charley could see that it had taken a lot for him to admit that.
“About?” she asked quizzically.
Each word seemed to cost him. “That she didn’t do it.”
Charley nodded. She saw no reason to gloat. He was just doing what a good detective did and she was just going by her gut.
“Yeah, I know.” There was no joy in being right this time. “I kind of wish she had.”
Her response caught him off guard. “What? Why?”
“So we could stick her butt in jail. That would be fitting payback. That kind of woman just spreads grief and misery wherever she goes.”
“But flexibly,” Declan deadpanned, still able to see the humor in the situation.
“Huh,” Charley commented. “I wonder if that means you can tie her into a knot.”
“Might be interesting to find out,” Declan mused. He frowned just slightly, not remembering having parked this far from the hotel entrance.
Charley became serious as they approached his vehicle. She was still rather uneasy about her place in the investigation. This was his show and he actually had the right to keep her out of it—even if she had no intention of stepping aside.
So, in as respectful a voice as she could manage, she inquired, “Now what?”
Declan had to admit that he was surprised she was deferring to him. He would have bet money that, fired up, Charley would have tried to take over the investigation, forcing him to take a backseat to her even if she didn’t belong on this case at all.
Was she pretending to defer to him in order to stay on his good side? After all, technically, she didn’t really belong on this investigation to begin with.
Getting into the car, he waited until she was in on her side and buckled up.
“You know you can’t work this case with me indefinitely, right?”
Well, that didn’t take long. Charley felt as if he’d just prodded her with a hot poker.
“Why not?”
Did
