Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

"No. It didn't come up. He and that hot state detective asked about business and what happened the day she died."

I bit my lip. "Did you tell them about the argument Missy and I had in the salon?"

Kelly shook her head. "Girl, if I mentioned every person Missy pissed off on a daily basis, I would still be talking to them. Trust me, your little tiff was hardly a blip on her radar."

I let out a breath. "Okay. Not that it's a secret, but the chief already has me in the crosshairs since I found her."

"Consider my silence part of payment for leaving the stupid sign in the street. I can't say the same for the rest of the salon patrons, but the cops won't hear about it from me," Kelly promised.

"Thanks." I swung my leg over the bike seat. When I tentatively put some pressure on my hurt ankle, a dull pain shot up my leg. Not great, but I could work with it, if I hurried. Still, there was one more thing I needed to know. One more thing that might help exonerate me even further. "What time did Missy leave the salon?"

"Oh. She and Jodie left about an hour after you and your mom. Didn't even tell me she was leaving. Typical," Kelly said.

I frowned. So much for that. I'd hoped Missy had either put in a full day at the salon or left immediately after us so my alibi would be a bit tighter. Not that "home with my mom" was a great alibi. Lots of moms would lie to protect their children, mine included.

"Great job on the rebrand, Kelly. I love the new name," I said as I maneuvered the bike back into the bike lane.

"Thanks. And stop by anytime for that free haircut," Kelly called after me.

A few long minutes later, I limped as gracefully as possible into the firehouse office. Linc looked up from the computer behind the desk. Noticing me, he looked pointedly at the clock hanging on the wall behind him.

"Hey sleepyhead. I expected you like an—" He stopped midsentence when he saw me limp. He squinted his eyes and gave me a once over. "What the heck happened to you? Fight another sign?"

"Ha ha. But actually, yes." I held up a hand to ward off his questions. "Don't want to talk about it. Can you put your EMT hat on and take a look at my ankle? I think it's sprained."

He walked around the desk and draped my arm over his shoulder to help support me as I hobbled to the row of chairs against the wall. Fang came in from the door between the office and the engine bay. He danced around our feet as Linc lowered me into the chair. When I was seated, Fang placed his head on my knee, much like he did that first day by the fire truck.

"Is he trained to do that?" I asked, burying my hands once again into his soft fur.

Linc nodded. "He's great for calming people down."

Kneeling in front of me, Linc placed my hurt ankle on his knee. After rolling up my pant leg, he gave my Achilles tendon a little pinch.

I yelped in pain. "Ow! Watch it, you sadist!"

"Guess that's a little tender."

"You think?" I tried to pull my foot away, but he clamped down on my knee. "Don't you have an ice pack or something?"

He ignored me. "I'm going to remove your shoe and sock to take a closer look. This may increase the swelling a little bit, but that's to be expected."

I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut as he gingerly loosened the laces of my sneakers. Fang lapped at my hand with his tongue. Linc’s fingers brushed my skin as he pulled off my sock.

"Siren red," he said. "I never would have guessed."

I peeked open an eye to see him smiling up at me with eyebrow raised. He'd noticed my toenail polish. "Yeah, well, I'm just full of surprises."

I thought I heard him mumble, "I'll bet you are," but couldn't be sure through my growing haze of pain.

"The red goes well with the blue-and-purple bruise you have forming."

"Great. Just what I need."

"Can you move your ankle?" he asked. I wiggled it back and forth with limited pain.

"It's mainly when I put pressure on it that it hurts," I explained.

"Looks and sounds like a sprain to me. You'll be fine in a few days. I have crutches in the back you can borrow. Wait here."

"But I'll be late for the marathon I'm running this afternoon," I said as he gently lowered my ankle off his knee.

A moment later, he returned with supplies. We got me set up at the desk so I could work on organizing some of the files on the computer. Fang, sensing my stress decreasing, disappeared back into the engine bay.

"I need to hear the story of your second sign attack," he said as I started moving the myriad of desktop icons into some semblance of order. I filled him in as I worked, unable to control the excitement in my voice.

"So that's weird, right?" I asked, forgetting about the computer and leaning my chin on my knuckles. "Missy has been gone for barely forty-eight hours, and Kelly is already renaming and redecorating? I mean, who can have a custom sign made that quickly? She definitely had that thing laying around before Sunday. Right?"

He ran his fingers over his chin. "The timing does seem a bit inappropriate. We haven't even had a funeral yet."

"Exactly! She totally had motive and opportunity." I realized my voice had taken on the pitch of a kid on Christmas morning. But the sooner I figured out the real killer, the sooner I'd stop being the