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Detective Brent Peters was a handsome man. But anything he had in the way of good looks was extinguished by the sour look on his face.
And Flo didn’t really like his attitude either.
“Why are you just now reporting this?” He asked Flo and Agnes, who as predicted had recovered nicely from her earlier stomach troubles and was popping the last bite of powdered sugar donut into her face.
When Flo eyed the donut, Agnes shrugged. “What? Sugar settles my stomach.”
It had settled it right down onto her knees, Flo thought uncharitably.
“Ma’am?” Detective Peters prompted.
“I’m not sure how to answer your question since we called you as soon as we found the...erm...body.” Flo slid a sad gaze over the gurney that was carrying Betty away. In a matter of only a couple of hours, a sweet, friendly woman had been transformed into just another case number in a morgue bag.
“You were first on the scene?”
“Except for the murderer,” Celia told him.
Peters swung his hostile gaze her way, seemingly taken aback by the Barbie doll with the clear blue gaze and the hardened cop’s perspective. Flo had to admit she was discovering there was much more to Celia Angonetti than she’d assumed from casual acquaintance.
“There was no one else here when we arrived,” Flo agreed.
The detective’s gaze softened infinitesimally. “Do you ladies realize that, if this woman has been murdered, and we haven’t confirmed that yet so I’d appreciate you not spreading the rumor around...”
“I’ve confirmed it,” Celia said with a frown.
“Are you a Medical Examiner?”
“No, but...”
“Then please keep your opinions to yourself.”
Celia opened her mouth and then slammed it shut, frowning prettily.
Flo was glad Celia didn’t give him her true qualifications, which were that she was married to a small-time mobster who was probably connected more closely to Al Capone than the theory of six degrees of separation might imply. Murder and its accoutrements were probably fairly common topics of conversation between Ce and her husband. Though Flo really doubted Mass would be involved in murder himself.
Unlike the company he kept.
“You could have walked in on a killer,” Peters finished.
“But we didn’t,” Flo said. “And visiting a sick friend is not a crime, Detective.”
Expelling a long-suffering sigh, Peters gave up on Celia and refocused on Flo. “Do you know if the victim was involved in drugs?”
Flo felt her eyes go wide. “Betty? I’d be shocked if she was. Although I guess I don’t know about prescription medicines. She did have pretty bad arthritis.”
Peters frowned, his gaze skimming toward Agnes and resting there, turning speculative. “What about cocaine?”
“Why do you ask?”
The detective held up an evidence bag with something powdery and white inside. “This was all over her face and on the bedclothes.”
Flo glanced toward Agnes, an uncomfortable thought bursting into her brain. She jerked her gaze away as Agnes’ eyes went wide. “I...um...I have no idea, Detective.”
He nodded and handed the bag to a woman wearing a Crime Scene Unit jacket. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the victim? Did she indicate in any way that she was afraid, or that someone had threatened her?”
“No.” Flo shook her head. “You’re aware her boss was killed yesterday.”
He frowned, nodding. “Quite a coincidence.”
“That’s what we thought too,” Flo agreed.
“Maybe the two of them were selling cocaine,” Agnes offered with studied off-handedness.
Flo nearly groaned. Clearly the other woman was trying to distract the Detective. It wasn’t going to work. Flo didn’t know the man very well. She’d only spoken to him once before. But from what she’d heard he was smart and intuitive.
Sure enough, he narrowed his gaze suspiciously on Agnes. “You say that as if you know something, Miss Willard.”
Agnes’ gray eyes went wide. “Me? Oh no. I just moved into the building. I’ve never met the woman before today.”
Flo nodded. “It’s true. Agnes just moved in this morning.”
“And already she’s embroiled in a suspicious death investigation.” Peters arched an eyebrow in silent accusation.
Flo battled an urge to smack him on the back of the head. “Detective, surely you realize this is just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Maybe.”
“She also mentioned being run off the road yesterday,” Flo said. She was hoping the new information would distract him from Agnes and her “cocaine”.
He nodded. “Another coincidence. Too many coincidences if you ask me.”
Flo couldn’t disagree.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay, you three can go. But stay available just in case I have any further questions.”
They didn’t waste any time skedaddling out of there. In the hallway, Flo glanced at her watch. It was nearly nine PM. Too late to visit Betty’s place of business.
“What are you thinking, Flo?” Agnes asked.
“I’m thinking we need to talk to some people in Betty’s office. If there’s something nefarious going on, it has to start there. With Betty’s boss.”
“Mmff, bmff mm.”
Flo looked up to find Agnes taking a bite out of another donut. “Where in the world did you get that?”
“It was in my pocket.” Powdered sugar burst from Agnes’ mouth and formed a tiny cloud in front of her face.
Celia grinned. “You didn’t by any chance walk over and munch on one of those over the body before the detective got here did you?”
Agnes flushed guiltily. “I might have taken a bite or two.”
Celia burst out laughing.
Flo wasn’t nearly so amused. “He’s going to come down on you like a ton of bricks when he finds out that was powdered sugar all over his crime scene, Agnes.”
She shrugged. “He can’t prove it was my powdered sugar.”
Celia broke into laughter again. “Her powdered sugar... I need to call and tell Mass that one.” She lifted a hand in a wave and headed toward the elevator. “Going home. See you ladies tomorrow.” Her laughter drifted back to them until the elevator doors closed.
Flo sighed.
“I guess I’ll turn in too,” Agnes said. “I’m not feeling too well.”
Flo bit her tongue about the donuts and simply nodded. “Night, Agnes. Sleep well.”