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Garrett uses his head to gesture in my direction. “Ms. Locket claims the necklace belongs to her.”
The Konigs are apoplectic at this notion.
Ooh. Another good word, Grandma. Truly, my best word day ever.
It’s Fred that finally speaks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”
“I’ll tell you what’s really happening here, Detective.” Hazel Konig sounds so calm, it’s scary. “That little cadger got one look at my necklace and wanted it. You should have heard her. She barraged me with questions wanting to know all about it.”
Barraged? A great word.
Well played, Hazel, well played.
“What kind of questions?” Garrett asks.
“Well. For one, she asked me where I got it and when.”
“Mm-hm.” Garrett jots something down. “What else did she ask?”
“I don’t recall, Detective. Why does it matter? She tried to steal it. Arrest her.”
Garrett sighs like he’s resigned to his duty. Turning to me, he gestures with his left hand like he wants me to stand. “Come on, Ms. Locket. Let’s go down to the station.”
“Is that really necessary?” Mr. Maloney pleads my case, sort of.
“We’ll be able to discuss the matter uninterrupted.” He glances at Hazel and Fred, then back to me.
I stand, and I’m about to ask him if he’s going to cuff me when I realize I may have proof that what I’ve been telling him is true. “I can prove that it’s mine.”
Scoffing, then harrumphing, Fred snaps, “This is ridiculous.”
Garrett holds up his hand, asking me, “How?”
“May I see the locket?”
Garrett reaches into his front pocket as Hazel starts to protest. “No. Give it back to me. I don’t want her getting her grubby, thieving hands on it.”
“Mrs. Konig.” Garrett sighs again. He seems exhausted by all of this. Me too. “I can’t give this back to you yet. It’s evidence. Let’s see what she has to say. I’m going to have to look into her claim that the locket was stolen anyway.”
“I’ll be talking to Stanley about this.”
“Go right ahead.”
Who’s Stanley?
“It’s your prerogative to call my superior officer.”
Oh, that’s Stanley.
“Damn right,” grumbles Fred. “I’ll have your badge for this.”
“Jesus,” Garrett hisses. He doesn’t heed their warnings, though. Instead, he holds the locket out in front of me.
Shaking my head, I say, “I’ll tell you how to do it.”
“Do what?” Fred asks.
I glare at Fred because I don’t like him. He’s also no longer pretty. “I’ll let Detective Whelan open the locket, so you know I’m not playing any tricks.”
