A Fatal Twist of Lemon Read Free Page A

dear friend, who was here because she helped me get the tearoom ready to open. She doesn’t know Sylvia Carruthers. Didn’t,” I corrected, exasperated with myself.
    This was all so awkward! I wondered fleetingly if Miss Manners had any advice for proper conduct of murder investigations.
    Detective Aragón kept taking notes. After a minute he looked up at me expectantly.
    â€œI’m fairly well acquainted with Katie Hutchins,” I said. “She’s a neighbor, she runs the Territorial B&B across the street. Vince Margolan is another neighbor. He’s in the process of setting up a gallery next to the B&B. I’ve only met him once or twice, though.”
    Aware that I was babbling, I stopped and watched the detective writing in his notepad. It felt surreal to be discussing the murder in such ordinary terms. A part of me felt like screaming.
    â€œWhat about … Claudia Pearson?” he said, glancing up from my seating chart.
    I cleared my throat. “I’ve met her several times before today. She works with the Santa Fe Preservation Trust, of which Sylvia was president.”
    â€œAnd Manny Salazar?”
    â€œHe’s one of my suppliers and a friend of my aunt’s.”
    He referred to the chart. “That leaves Thomas Ingraham and Donna Carruthers.”
    â€œI met them both for the first time today. Mr. Ingraham is a food critic for the New Mexican , also a friend of my aunt’s. Ms. Carruthers is Sylvia’s daughter.”
    He nodded. “I’m going to need everyone’s phone numbers.”
    â€œMrs. Pearson is downstairs, waiting to talk to you.”
    â€œYeah. How about the rest?”
    I turned on my computer and read him the numbers from my organizer. I was beginning to feel impatient, but I certainly wasn’t about to let Detective Aragón know it.
    â€œWhat about the other customers? Do you have any names or numbers for them?”
    â€œI wouldn’t count on it. They were walk-ins.”
    Rudeness is a handy tool for the investigator, I suppose. Being subjected to a flat stare would make anyone restless and uncomfortable, anxious to fill the silence by talking. Perhaps it was stubborn of me, and perhaps unwise, but I was determined not to respond to such tactics. I waited, returning his gaze.
    At last he spoke. “So, you have no idea why anyone would want to kill her?”
    â€œI’m afraid not. She was a little abrasive, perhaps, but that’s hardly enough to provoke a murder. I certainly wish whoever killed her hadn’t chosen to do it here.”
    His eyebrows twitched into a slight frown, as if he’d been struck by a new thought. “Who else knew she was going to be here?”
    I shrugged. “The people at the Trust, I suppose. I don’t know who else. I believe her husband is deceased.”
    â€œUh-huh.” His eyelids drooped again. “So—did you kill her?”
    I was stunned, then angry. I raised my chin, a subtlety that was no doubt lost on him.
    â€œNo, I did not! I have every reason to be grateful to her, and I’m horrified that someone—”
    I stopped, aware that I was raising my voice. I took a slow breath before speaking again.
    â€œObviously, I’m upset that this happened. Will there be anything else, Detective Aragón?”
    The corner of his mouth turned upward, though his eyes remained hard. “Nah. No offense, I hope. Gotta ask.”
    â€œOf course you do.”
    I turned off my computer and collected my paperwork, tucking it out of the way into a drawer as I sought to regain my composure. I then stood, and to his credit Detective Aragón got to his feet at once. His mother must have taught him the basics of civility, even if his manners were rusty from disuse.
    I stepped out from behind my desk, indicating with a gesture that he was welcome to use it. “My chef has made coffee. Shall I send some up for you?”
    â€œNot gonna offer