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?“I see.”
?“So you like stories? Being a writer and all?”
?“Usually,” I replied, not pleased where this was going.
?“Here is how we think this could’ve gone down,” Elvis theorized. “You showed up with that gun of yours and told Mr. Lawrence to strip. Then, you locked him up, put the gun away, and suffocated him with the pillow.”
?“But…but…I don’t even know him,” I stammered. “I have no motive—”
?“Well, it is suspicious,” DeStadler explained. “I mean you and Ms. Homes go through this big show that you hate each other—”
?“In front of a large audience, we were told,” Elvis chimed in.
?“And yet we find the two of you as thick as thieves having a friendly drink in the hotel bar,” DeStadler divulged.
?“Yeah, very cozy,” Elvis hinted. “And she happens to see you at the ice machine—and vouch for you—almost like she planned to meet you there for an alibi.”
?“What time did you see her at the ice machine, Mr. Watkins?”
?“I don’t know,” I conceded. “Sometime around 11:00, I guess.”
?“You guess?” DeStadler questioned.
?“I had a pretty woman waiting for me in a hotel room. I wasn’t concerned about the hour at that moment.”
?“Well, we intend to talk to this ‘Candy’ woman, as well as many other people at the convention, Mr. Watkins.”
?“Conference,” I corrected.
?“What?”
?“It’s not a convention; it’s a conference.”
?“All right then, conference,” DeStadler sneered. “If you have anything you want to add to your story, I suggest that now would be the time.”
?“I—I can’t think of anything,” I gulped.
?“I see,” DeStadler snapped. “You’ll be at the Hilton until Sunday, and then at your condominium?”
?“In case we have any other questions,” Detective Elvis cautioned, “and I believe we may have many more.”
?I nodded wanly. “May I go?”
?“Just don’t go far, Mr. Watkins,” DeStadler said.
12. Shelf Life
Sheryl Homes
??I watched as Mark walked out the front of the precinct as I scribbled in my notebook.
?“Hey,” he announced as he approached. “Are you all right?”
?“Yes. I just can’t believe it,” I confessed, “Randall dead…and those pictures.”
?“What are you doing?”
?“Hmm,” I said without looking up. “I’m making notes while it’s still fresh in my mind.”
