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myself clear?”
    â€œAbsolutely,” said Evelyn, with a swift glance at me. “I think we’ve covered the territory.”
    This woman had more nerve than a cliff diver and possessed an annoying one-track mind. Claire lay dead—murdered—just inside the building, and Evelyn was worried about gold-sprayed foliage. Jeez!
    I turned my back to her, looked up and down the street, and then wished I hadn’t. The sidewalk across the way was lined with rubberneckers. The sirens were a calling card to a free show. Boldly, I met the gaping stares. I had nothing to hide, and yet their attention made me feel like a bug stuck on a pin under a microscope.
    As I swept the crowd, I saw a tall figure in the shadow of an old drugstore. The front was covered with scaffolding. The bricks, weathered and worn by time’s ruthless fingers, were scheduled for a fresh coat of paint. I scrunched up my eyes, trying to make out the man. Something about the way he held his head seemed familiar.
    Before I could decide if I knew him, he turned on his heel and disappeared up the alley. It was the ambling walk that cinched it.
    â€œBailey!” I shouted. “Bailey! Wait!”
    The man didn’t pause. He didn’t even turn his head. Was I mistaken? My heart had fluttered with hope, but now it fluttered with disappointment.
    Back in April I’d made the acquaintance of Bailey Monroe, a DEA agent. Bailey had jump-started my engine, making my heart race. A floral convention was the last place I thought I’d find romance. And while the only kiss Bailey and I’d shared had been fleeting, his smile, his eyes, and his irritating manner had left a lasting impression.
    When we parted ways, I was sure I’d hear from him, but it had been eight long weeks without a word. So I’d written him off as hopeless, and I was helpless to contact him since I didn’t have a phone number or an address.
    â€œOld fool,” I muttered.
    â€œCouldn’t have put it better myself,” said Sid, coming up behind me. “Who the hell were you yelling at? Let’s get your statement so you can scram. We have enough of a mob without you inciting a riot. Judas Priest. I should’ve known better than to leave you in plain sight on the sidewalk. You could stir up trouble in a funeral parlor.”
    Since that was exactly what had happened last fall, Sid’s face turned carnation red at the memory. He jerked his head at me. “Get going.”
    Evelyn and I were taken to separate patrol cars. It didn’t escape my notice that I drew Police Chief Kelley as my inquisitor, while Sid escorted Evelyn into his car for a private tête-à-tête.
    Chief Kelley settled herself in the backseat and pulled a notepad from her purse. “You know how to push all of Sid’s buttons, don’t you?”
    â€œIt’s usually not intentional,” I admitted, “but he can be the most infuriating man on earth.”
    Kelley studied me thoughtfully. “With so much emotion involved, some people would say there’s an attraction between you.”
    I stared at her in openmouthed wonder, then gave over to a good belly laugh. “You’re right. Hate is supposed to be close kin to love, but in this case the answer is no. I don’t hate Sid, and I might like him if he wasn’t so … so … Sid. I admire him. Sometimes, I even respect him. Carl classed him as a friend, but the idea of there being something more between us is as ludicrous as—uh—Claire getting up off the floor and walking out that door.”
    My words put a deep frown between the chief’s eyes. “There isn’t much chance of that happening.”
    â€œI know,” I said soberly. “She was hit over the head, dragged to the back room, and her mouth and nose were filled with that green mousse.”
    â€œYou’ve got it all figured out, huh?”
    â€œI checked to see if she was