Harmful Intent: A Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels/Dawson Hughes Novel by Nike N. Chillemi

once, though I hope you're not scared of wild animals." She got in and I slammed her door shut.
    Her driver's window came down and she leaned her head out. "So you are taking me into the hills."
    I grinned. "Just follow my cruiser. Think you can handle that?"
    She fired up that little green hornet she drove. "You couldn't lose me if you tried."
    I laughed, got into the cruiser, and pulled out of the gun club's lot. She wasn't easy to figure out... a challenge. Not your typical woman, to say the least.
    She stayed right behind my car until I pulled into the parking lot of the Abilene Zoo... more of a kiddie zoo, but a real nice place to while away a few hours.
    After the divorce, I'd find myself here sometimes… wandering around. Little tykes squealing with delight, reaching up to feed the giraffes, or screeching in horror in the Creepy Crawler Center made me smile and pressure seemed to slough off my shoulders.
    Ronnie clicked the key fob to lock her car and I escorted her to the admissions booth and purchased two tickets.
    I guided her by the elbow. "This is the greatest little place, and it's got a terrific snack bar called the Waterin' Hole, if you're hungry."
    "Famished. I could eat a..."
    "Bear... I know."
    After we ate, we took the zoo train and then walked over the bridge to feed and pet the giraffes. One of the long tongued beasts licked my face leaving a stream of slobber. I pulled out my handkerchief and wiped it off. "Tall ladies have always been partial to me."
    She giggled and pointed. "You missed a tiny bit, up above your cheekbone."
    "Thanks." I swiped the entire side of my face.
    "Listen, I have to tell you something serious... about the case, maybe. I ran into Ava Chandler in the ladies' room at the gun club."
    I folded my handkerchief carefully, giving myself a little time. "That is interestin'."
    "I figure she's not the type to shoot alone. So, either she had a shooting date with that businessman, or one with Todd."
    I slid the handkerchief into my pocket, still processing this bit of information. "I'll ask Todd if Mrs. Chandler shot with that fella and if so, I'll get his particulars."
    "And if not?"
    "Then I'll ask Todd what type of relationship he has with Winslow Chandler's wife." This had to be one of the aspects of my job I liked least. Law enforcement officers routinely uncovered the deep-dark secrets of private citizens, which ended up being meaningless as far as the investigation was concerned. Still every rock had to be overturned. I just didn't like having to be the one to do it.

Chapter Twelve
     
     
    South Abilene
    Day Seven, Morning
    Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels, PI
     
    My comfortability quotient rapidly tanked. But I was used to not feeling feminine enough, cultured enough. So, I simply soldiered on. I sat cross-legged on the floor of the yoga exercise room at the spa, as I had no idea how to twist my legs into a lotus position.
    The young woman with the pink pixie haircut turned out to be the yoga instructor. She gazed directly at Bertha and me. "Let me introduce myself, since we have a couple of new members. My name is Uma Kantrel." She extended her vowels in a kind of North-Pacific manner.
    She had us breathe in through our noses and out through our mouths in a long, rhythmic fashion. This only served to make the eucalyptus scent permeating the room tickle my sinuses.
    Bertha rocked from side to side, stretched a leg out, and leaned toward me, softly moaning, and said, "I've got a mean cramp in my calf."
    Uma gave Bertha a forced smile. "Ladies, if you'd get your bodies comfortable and then tip on over to the right side. That's it. Now place your right arm down on the mat so your elbow bends. Arch at your waist and circle your left arm ah-ll the way over so the fingertips of your left hand touch the fingertips of your right." She drew out the word all in a singsong lilt.
    The class did as instructed while, in the far corner, a three-foot high ceramic tipping jar fountain gently gurgled. It