A Gift for Murder

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

I think my mouth hung open for a second or two. "What does that mean?"

"You've met Chloe. Do you really think she could have killed Tim?"

"We had this discussion earlier."

"I know. But I'll tell you the answer this time. Chloe wouldn't kill anyone. Or even try to harm anyone. She's almost too upstanding for her own good. I take that back. Chloe is too upstanding for her own good." He squeezed the drink bottle again. "I've known her for a long time."

I wanted so badly to ask what was between them, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be a good idea. "Why are you asking me to do this? I'm no detective. You need to hire a real one."

"Under ordinary circumstances, I would. But these aren't ordinary circumstances. Time's too pressing. It will take too long to bring someone in from outside and get them up to speed. Don't you get the feeling it's got to be someone here at the show?"

I did feel that way. But, still. "What makes me your best second choice?"

"I considered asking your boss, but she's a bit too tied to the bureaucracy. You're younger and more open. Plus, you know everyone. They talk to you. You have a way about you that puts people at ease."

I sighed as I considered what might happen if I did as he asked. "My boss wouldn't be happy about it. Neither would the cops."

"Do they have to know?"

"They'll find out. I'll have to ask questions people don't want me asking, and they'll complain about it. I'm great at listening and getting people to talk, but I'm not good at lying about it."

"You can tell them I asked you to get the information. That I thought it very important, in fact."

"They'd only buy it up to a point. Not far enough. I might lose my job."

His body language shifted suddenly, shoulders slumping, head dipping, eyes lowered. The salesman was about to adjust his approach.

The thing is, it sort of worked, even though I knew what he was doing. When he shook his head sadly, and said, "Chloe deserves better than this," I agreed with him.

"If the show breaks up without the real killer being found, her life will be ruined. They probably don't have enough to convict her of murder, but I could be wrong. What if they do?" He straightened up, bracing himself. "I guess I'd better hire that detective. Do you know anyone you can recommend?"

He was conning me with the not-quite-real dejection, and yet a very real desperation lay beneath it. He couldn't admit to the genuine emotion, so he had to use a faked one instead. Very bizarre. Was this a guy thing? It was okay to show fake emotion as long as people realized it was fake, but you had to hide the real thing?

I had no way to sort out that conundrum and it was irrelevant anyway. My own dilemma gave me enough to consider. I didn't think I'd exaggerated when I told him the risk to my job status. Janelle would give me a lot of leeway, but she had Carl Roper breathing down her neck. She was going to get a few complaints about me, anyway, especially if photo-woman followed through on her threats, but she could deal with those. However, if she started getting complaints about my asking too many prying questions, it would put her in a tough position.

"I don't know," I said at last, answering more than one of his questions. "I'll ask about a detective, and I'll think about asking a few questions myself. I can't promise anything." Anger stirred inside me. This was not anything I needed right now.

Powell reached inside his jacket and groped for a moment. Finally he held out a business card. "My cell phone number's here. I don't give it out to many people."