Dusted to Death by Barbara Colley Page A

nothing else that I can recall.”
    Nothing except the part about the letter opener.
    Yeah, yeah, but once they question the others, she silently argued, they’ll find out about that last scene where Angel used the letter opener. Besides, they’ll most certainly dust it for fingerprints.
    Holding the detective’s gaze without blinking, she opted to say nothing about the letter opener.
    Several moments passed before he finally said, “Okay. But if you think of anything—” He reached inside his shirt pocket and handed her a business card. “Just give me a call.”
    Charlotte took the card and dropped it inside her apron pocket. It would be a cold day in Hades before she ever called him . “May I leave now?”
    The detective shook his head. “Not yet.”
    “Why not? I’ve told you everything I know.”
    “Yeah, well, that remains to be seen.”
    The implication that she’d been less than truthful stung. Never mind that he was right. Though she hadn’t outright lied to him, she had purposely neglected to tell him about the letter opener scene that had been shot the day before, so she hadn’t exactly told him everything she knew.
    Too bad. Enough was enough. She pressed her lips tightly together, gave him a curt nod, and without looking at him, headed for the pantry, where she retrieved her cell phone from her purse. Just as she reached the door leading into the hallway, Gavin Brown called out, “Don’t forget what I said about calling Mrs. Duhè. No names. Just the bare facts.”
    “I won’t,” she retorted sharply, unable to mask the irritation she felt. Not only had he implied that she hadn’t told him the truth, which made her feel all the more guilty for not saying something about the stupid letter opener, but now it seemed he was intent on making her miserable. Just the thought of having to sit around most of the day with nothing to do was pure torture. Besides which, there was no earthly reason why she should have to stay.
    Still fuming, she paused at the doorway leading into the parlor. There was no way she could go back inside that crowded room at the moment. Besides needing some modicum of privacy when she talked to Bitsy, she needed to get her temper under control.
    Turning away from the parlor doorway, she walked toward the uniformed policeman standing guard at the front door. “I’m feeling a little claustrophobic,” she told him. And that was the truth. “I’ve already been questioned by Detective Brown. Would it be okay if I went out on the porch for a few minutes? Also, Detective Brown gave me permission to make an important phone call. And I won’t leave,” she added quickly.
    For just the briefest moment, she was afraid that the young patrolman was going to say no. Then a small grin pulled at his lips. “Say, aren’t you Detective Monroe’s aunt?”
    Charlotte nodded. “Judith is my niece.”
    “I thought so. You probably don’t remember, but I was one of the responding officers when you found that woman dead in your living room last year. Detective Monroe talks about you all the time.”
    Charlotte didn’t remember the young officer, but then, there was a lot about that night that she’d tried her best to forget. “Sorry,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I don’t remember you, but—”
    “Hey, no problem. You were under quite a strain that night.” He opened the front door. “Are you sure you want to go outside? It’s pretty hot out there.”
    Charlotte smiled. “I’m sure. I just need a few moments and I won’t leave,” she assured him again.
    Outside, the earlier storm had dissipated, leaving the sky overcast and the air heavy with heat and steamy humidity. Trying to ignore the commotion of the squad cars, the emergency vehicles, and the police who were dealing with the clamoring news media beyond the barricades in the street, she walked to the left side of the porch and stood staring toward the house next door.
    Seeing the media