Chili Con Carnage by Kylie Logan Page B

have had the newspaper article that featured a smiling Sylvia standing next to a smiling (and now deceased) Robert Lasky.
    As if the article was smoldering inside the shoe box, I adjusted my purse on my shoulder and shifted the box to my other hand. “Can I get some clothes?” I asked.
    Nick went over to the RV to find out.
    I had to give him credit. He might be an SOB, but Nick got results. Though Phil insisted on coming in with us, we were allowed to return to the RV long enough for me to pack a duffel bag. Fifteen minutes later, we were in Nick’s shiny black Audi.
    I waited until we were on the road before I threw him a glance. “Most of the folks in the Showdown would kill for a car like this.”
    “Bad choice of words, considering.”
    He was right. And I wasn’t ready to talk about it. The murder, I mean, and Sylvia’s arrest. My mind was still in a whirl, what with everything that had gone on that morning. I wondered why Sylvia had never mentioned that she and Roberto knew each other way back when, and I wondered, too, why the cops thought she had any reason to kill him. I knew I wouldn’t get any answers. Not when my brain was on overload. And not until I talked to Sylvia. Until then, the only thing I could do was follow Gert’s advice. Thanks to Nick, I was getting a change of scenery, and if what Gert had said was true, maybe that would kick-start my brain. My subconscious could take over and I could start to make some sense of everything that had happened.
    Good thinking on my part. Which didn’t explain why the words that came out of my mouth were, “I think maybe she knew him.”
    We were stopped at a red light. Good thing since Nick gave me a careful look. “She?”
    “Sylvia.”
    “Knew—”
    “Roberto. Except his real name was Robert. Look.” I dug through the shoe box and found the old newspaper article, but before Nick had a chance to give it barely more than a glance, the light changed and he needed to pay attention to the road.
    “Looks like that was a long time ago,” he said. He was apparently a fast reader.
    “Ten years.” I scanned the article again. “They were both finalists for some snooty culinary prize. There’s no way Sylvia would ever forget anything like that. Sylvia’s got a mind like fly paper. She must have recognized Roberto the moment she laid eyes on him at the Showdown.”
    “But she never said anything to you about knowing him.”
    “Not a peep.” I put the article back in the shoe box.
    “But you knew he was a lowlife.”
    “One date. History.” I gave the word all the sour emphasis it deserved. “That’s all it took for me to figure him out. I guess I should have questioned how Sylvia could have known.”
    “Because you didn’t tell her.”
    “About my date with Roberto . . . er . . . Robert? Not really. I mean, no more than she needed to know.”
    “So maybe she knew firsthand that he was a creep.”
    “Maybe.” Just to satisfy my own curiosity, I checked out the article again. “He doesn’t look like a lowlife,” I said, and this time Nick didn’t have to ask who I was talking about.
    “But she warned you away.”
    “She was probably just jealous.”
    “Of you and Roberto?”
    I might not have taken offense if Nick didn’t laugh. My shoulders shot back. “Sylvia’s always been jealous of me. She sees me with a guy—”
    “Okay. Yeah. Whatever.” Nick guided the car through a turn. “What I meant is that I don’t see why Sylvia would have been jealous. She couldn’t have had her eye on Roberto. He wasn’t exactly her type.”
    Not like you.
    For once, I kept the words in my head and off my lips.
    “So that should have been my first clue, right?” I asked instead. “He was new to the Showdown, I didn’t tell her our date was a bust, and she still told me to stay away. She did recognize him. And she didn’t like him. If the cops find out she knew him once upon a time, that will give them a reason to think Sylvia killed