Page 32 of Second Chance

Speaking entirely to her coffee mug, the detective says, “An excellent question.”

After a pause that drags on too long to be comfortable, Colette pushes away from the counter. “Given I have done none of those things, I imagine my presence in this conversation is superfluous.”

The detective doesn’t have an answer for her. Colette is right. Colette is absolutely, 100 percent correct. She did go to a crime scene she shouldn’t have, but the detective doesn’t know about that, and anyway, Daniel started it. The only thing Colette is guilty of is being framed for murder by an insane literature professor.

Detective Taylor seems to know she’s on thin ice because she gets up and straightens her blazer. “I’m glad we’ve had this conversation, given I found this on your front door.” She slaps a sheet of paper onto the counter.

Daniel flinches.

It wouldn’t be out of place in a Nancy Drew book or a particularly campy episode ofMurder, She Wrote. Someone actually used letters clipped from newspapers or magazines to spell out “Don’t look into Lawrence.”

Tony can’t help it. A laugh bubbles up from somewhere in his chest, sounding unhinged. He only manages to stop when Colette glares at him.

“Isn’t that evidence?” Daniel asks. “Shouldn’t you check for fingerprints or something?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.”

Colette cocks her head to the side, brow furrowing.

“I may not be Sherlock Holmes,” Taylor says, “but I can tell when I’m being pranked.”

Daniel frowns. “You think…we did this?”

“It’s an obvious way to insert yourself in an ongoing murder investigation. Again.”

“We didn’t even know Amelia Lawrence was dead before you came here, and you think we sat down to make a collage?”

“I think you would have called me if I hadn’t come.”

Daniel stares at Taylor blankly.

“Well,” Colette says tartly. “You’ve clearly made up your mind.”

“I have. If any of you think of anythingactuallyimportant, call me.” For a moment, Taylor pauses, perhaps tempted to add something to the tune ofbefore you get involved. Then, she seems to think better of it and says instead, “Oh, Mr. d’Angelo?”

Tony winces. He hoped this was over.

“I’ll need to speak to your sister, as well, since she was taking Professor Lawrence’s class. Is she still living at your parents’ house?”

“We both are. She’ll be there or at the garage until classes start back up at Lobell.”

The detective nods firmly and strolls out the door.

Daniel waits about two minutes before turning on Tony. “Gee, ma’am?” he repeats incredulously. “What are you, an extra fromWest Side Story?”

“Oh, come on.” Tony rolls his eyes. “She was speaking in past tense, huh, Sherlock?”

“I think you both made equally clear you have no intention of taking responsibility for your actions after Mario’s death.” Colette shakes her head at them, but her mouth is twitching.

“And she has no intention of apologizing to you for wrongful arrest,” Daniel mutters.

“Nor should she. As much as it pains me to say it, it was her job.”

“She should have thought about that before she chose her job.”

Tony sighs. “Maybe she did. Drink your tea, sweetheart.”

Daniel lifts out the strainer, picks up his mug, and takes a deep sip. It’s probably way too strong and lukewarm, which is how he likes it, the weirdo.

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