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her.”
    I leaned back in my chair huffing and puffing until it was time for round two. “And besides, do I look like I could strangle someone?”
    The piano keys disappeared. “Your aunt was eighty-six. Almost eighty-seven. You could do it.”
    I stood up. “This interview is over. Don’t let the door slam too hard behind you.”
    He still towered over me. “This isn’t an interview, ma’am. It’s an investigation. I can have you brought down to the station if you like.”
    I didn’t. I had never been to a police station, or wherever it is investigators hang out. Not even that time Buford landed in the hoosegow for goosing a housewife he thought was a stripper. I let his good-old-boy buddies bail him out. What else are his friends for?
    Perhaps I’m a product of too much television, too many grade-B movies on late-night TV. Somewhere along the line I got the impression that women who visit police stations out of uniform are manhandled by monolithic matrons with flashlights in their hands. Need I say more?
    â€œI’ll sing like a canary,” I said. “You just name the tune.”
    The blue eyes danced while the piano keys played.
    â€œI just want the truth, ma’am. Your full cooperation.”
    â€œAsk away.”
    â€œWere you her next of kin?”
    â€œOnly blood kin she had that I know of. Me and my kids. Except for my brother, but he doesn’t count.”
    â€œWhy doesn’t he count?”
    I sighed. It seemed futile to pick open that scab again.
    â€œToy lives in California. But even if he were here, you could cross him off your list. Toy is about as energetic as a turtle on tranquilizers.”
    He nodded. “Laid-back, they call it out there. You have a key to her house?”
    I scratched my head while I tried to wiggle out of that one. “Well, sort of. I mean, not exactly.”
    Both the eyes and the piano did a little ragtime. “I’ve heard high school boys in dresses come up with better explanations than you.”
    I felt myself blush, although it could have been a mild hot flash. Inspector Washburn had succeeded in thoroughly confusing my hormones. One minute they were happily on their way to an early retirement and the next they were doing the hundred-yard dash.
    â€œIt’s like this. Aunt Eulonia gave me a key—” I paused and glanced at the front door. It was stupid of me not to have left a straight aisle between it and the register. With his long arms he could probably stop me before I got around the counter anyway. In that case, it didn’t make a difference that the storeroom was cluttered as well.
    â€œYes? May I see the key?”
    â€œI don’t have it, sir.”
    â€œYou don’t?”
    â€œNo, sir. My aunt and I had this little disagreement—you know, like all families do—and I think she took the key back.”
    Who would have thought that blue could be a mocking color? “You think ?”
    â€œI have been known to, yes.”
    The full, perfect lips parted unevenly. I took it as a snarl.
    â€œWell, it’s hard to say,” I said quickly. “I mean, I had it on my key ring, and then one day I looked, and it was gone.”
    â€œWhere do you usually keep this key ring? During working hours, that is.”
    â€œHere, on this hook beneath the counter. Nobody can see it, and that way it’s easy to grab when I need to unlock display cabinets for customers. I tried wearing it on my belt like some dealers do, but the jingling about drove me crazy.”
    â€œI see.”
    I hoped he did. I was trying my best to be cooperative, I really was. I offered to answer any other questions he had, no matter how silly or embarrassing. He took me up on my offer and asked me a billion more questions, but I seemed to disappoint him each time. I might even have confessed to something—maybe a traffic violation or two—just to get those eyes