Dusted to Death by Barbara Colley

be okay if I called her?”
    He shook his head. “No one is calling anyone until we finish our questioning. As for the media, all they know is that there has been a murder.”
    “But don’t you see?” she argued. “That’s my point exactly. It would really upset Bitsy to suddenly see her house on the noon news and hear that there’s been a murder.”
    At first she didn’t think he was going to relent, but after a moment, he finally said, “Okay. After my interview with you, you can phone her. But only tell her the bare facts. No details such as the victim’s name, et cetera.”
    “Thank you.”
    He sighed heavily. “Okay, now where were we?” He glanced down at his notes. “So, when did you start working here?”
    “This is my third day.”
    “I need to know exactly what happened this morning when you got to work.”
    Charlotte nodded, and while he took notes, she told him everything she’d done, beginning from the time she parked the van until her grisly discovery.
    “Okay,” he said, glancing up from his notebook. “Now I need you to tell me what you know about the victim—and don’t try denying it. You and I both know that you hear things and see things.”
    Since she wasn’t sure whether he’d just given her a backhanded compliment or was accusing her of being a snoop, she tried not to dwell on either possibility and concentrated on keeping her temper in check. “All I know is that he’s supposedly Angel Martinique’s boyfriend.” That wasn’t all she knew, not exactly, but the rest was just…Just what? Gossip? Of course there was also the little piece of information about Angel’s connection to the alleged murder weapon. So why not tell him everything?
    Before she had time to think of a valid, logical reason why she should or shouldn’t share the rest of what she knew, he said, “Have you noticed anything else, such as the victim arguing with anyone or having confrontations with anyone?”
    Oh, boy, she thought. She really didn’t want to outright lie to him, but hated being a snitch. Still, given the circumstances, she didn’t have a choice, did she? So, where to begin? And just how much should she tell him?
    Just tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
    Okay, okay . “First of all, I want you to know that I’m not comfortable talking about my clients.”
    “Didn’t you say that you were hired by the production company?”
    “Well, ah—yes, I guess I did.”
    “So the victim wasn’t really your client, and neither is anyone else but Mega Films. Right?”
    She nodded slowly, grudgingly. He was right; legally it was Mega Films that had hired her, but she still didn’t like the idea of squealing on everyone who’d had a run-in with Nick.
    Come on, Charlotte, you’re making it sound like some hard-boiled detective novel back in the twenties. This is the real thing, not some book you’ve read .
    Charlotte rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. Yeah, yeah . Though she hated it when that voice in her head was right, a man was dead, and there was a real killer running loose. No one knew better than she did that even the slightest little tidbit of information could end up being a giant clue. Besides, like it or not, she had a moral obligation to help if she could, didn’t she?
    With only a slight hesitation, Charlotte took a deep breath, then recounted what she’d observed during the past two days. As best she could remember, she had witnessed at least two fights between Nick and Angel; then, there was Nick’s confrontation with Toby Russell, and finally, she recounted the scene in the kitchen the previous day when Simon Clark had cornered Nick and read him the riot act. In conclusion she said, “Most of the friction seemed to be over some script that Nick was pushing for Angel to consider.”
    The detective continued scribbling in his notebook for a minute or so more. Finally, he raised his head, and with narrowed eyes, he asked, “Anything else?”
    “No,