Chili Con Carnage by Kylie Logan

scene.
    “Stand back, ma’am.”
    “I will. But—” Since he had a hand out at chest level and a no-nonsense look in his beady brown eyes, it wasn’t like I was about to argue. Still, it was hard not to be overwhelmed by the panic that suddenly turned my blood to the consistency of a Jell-O shot. I leaned to my right so I could see around the cop’s bulk to where one of the other officers was assisting Sylvia into the back of a white patrol car with a blue-and-orange logo on it. I pointed. Yeah, like the guy didn’t know who I was talking about.
    “That’s my sister,” I said, for once not bothering to mention the “half” part. Past experience had taught me that at times like this, it is best not to muddy the waters with too many details. Before the back door of the patrol car closed, I stepped around him. “I’ve got to talk to her before—”
    I actually might have made it over to the car if the cop hadn’t clamped a hand on my arm. “Don’t make me arrest you, too,” he said, his voice just weary enough to make it clear that he might not want to, but he would if he had to. “She’s going down to the station. You can come down there in a couple hours if you want to talk to her.”
    “But—”
    It was as far as I got before that cop loosened his grip, whirled around, and joined the others.
    I found myself staring at the back of the patrol car, rooted to the spot, and honestly, I didn’t think I was talking to anyone but myself when I asked, “But what’s going on? Why would they arrest Sylvia?”
    “Got something to do with Roberto’s murder.”
    Puff had sidled up, and he watched the patrol car drive away, too. “Heard them read Sylvia her rights.”
    “Roberto’s murder?” The words tasted funny in my mouth. At least until I remembered that newspaper article I’d found among Jack’s things. “Roberto’s real name was Robert,” I said, though I was pretty sure Puff had already lost interest and wasn’t listening, anyway; someone had dropped a nickel on the ground and he bent to retrieve it, blew off the dust, and tucked the coin in his pocket.
    “I’ve got to get down to the police station,” I said by way of letting him know that our conversation was over. “They said I could talk to Sylvia there.”
    “It’s going to take a few hours before they’re done booking her.”
    Though I had no doubt Puff knew this information firsthand, this last comment didn’t come from him but from Nick. Even though the crowd that had gathered was slowly breaking up and the patrol car was long gone, like me he was still looking down the long, dusty midway toward where the cop car had disappeared. At least I think he was. It was impossible to see his eyes behind his Ray-Ban Aviators. “They’re not going to let you talk to her until then so you might as well relax.”
    “Relax?” Oh sure. I knew I’d heard him right. I just couldn’t believe the word had actually come out of his mouth. “They just arrested my sister for killing somebody, and you want me to relax?”
    Nick adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Your half sister.”
    “Oh yeah, that’s right. Half sister. So I guess I should only be half as worried.” There was no use arguing with a man that thickheaded, so I decided not to bother. I spun toward the RV.
    For the second time in the space of just a couple minutes, a hand clamped down on my arm. Nick’s hand to be specific. I didn’t let him hang on for long. I yanked my arm away, the better to tuck the shoe box under one arm and prop my other fist on my hip, but before I could get out the first word of the tirade I planned to launch in his direction, he cut me off.
    “The police and a crime-scene team are already in the RV looking for evidence,” Nick informed me. “They’re not going to let you in there, or in the Palace.”
    “But what . . .” It wasn’t like I didn’t believe him, but I swung from the RV to the Palace and back again in the other