Page 131 of Driftwood Daffodil 3

“Daryl spends his day in the kitchen. He doesn’t interact with the customers.”

“But he would remember making gumbo?”

“Maybe?” Damnit, a flaw in my plan. No one liked the gumbo. Not even a starving man would eat that crap. Why were they even questioning me about this? I was the victim here, or did they forget that?

“Alright Miss…”

“Ford.” I said when he stopped to look through his notes.

How inept were the police in this town? This guy couldn’t even remember my name. One would think he would remember the crime of the century that he made the arrest for.

How dumb was this guy. Half the notes he’d been jotting down were misspelled. Huh? Maybe he had a kid in my school?

“Miss. Ford,” Sargent Calder said as if knowing my name was an inconvenience to him. “Do you really expect me to believe that Romeo Mancini just happened to be here when a stranger held you at gunpoint.”

I mean he couldn’t spell, so… “yes.”

“Really?” The arch in his brow deepened.

“That’s what happened.” I insisted.

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah,” I looked him in the eye. “Prove it.”

He huffed out a sigh. “Listen Miss…”

Again?

“Ford.” I said a little louder.

He didn’t even bother to acknowledge my name this time. “I’m just trying to do my job.”

No he wasn’t. He was trying to railroad someone else so he could feed off the media frenzy. I was not going to help with that.

I sat back and crossed my arms. “I told you everything I know.”

“Let’s see,” he flipped through his notes. “According to you, you were taking out the trash when a man you didn’t see, grabbed you, held a gun to your head, fired a shot in the air and ran away.”

Okay, I probably could’ve made that more believable. But I had to stick to my story now. “That’s right.”

“If you didn’t see him, how did you know it was a man?”

That one was a little hard to come up with an explanation for.

Okay, Nova, think.

Nothing was coming to mind. When all else failed there was only one thing left to do. Argue.

“I didn’t say it was a man.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I have it right here.” He pointed down to his open notepad.

Actually what he’d written down was male assant, which I assumed meant assailant.

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