Polished Off by Barbara Colley

they’d left. But not even the thought of food distracted her for long. Like a nagging toothache, she kept going over the conversation she’d had with Daniel—more specifically, the part about Nadia being a suspect.
    “Not fair,” she murmured. “Just plain not fair.” Of all the people she knew, Nadia was the least likely to be a suspect for anything, much less murder. But considering the fact that she’d been abused by Ricco ...
    Charlotte shook her head. “No way,” she whispered. Even though Ricco had abused Nadia, Charlotte still couldn’t imagine Nadia killing him. It just wasn’t logical. Unless she was defending Davy....
    But if, by some stretch of the imagination, Charlotte could believe Nadia had somehow managed to kill Ricco, there was still the fact that he had been stuffed into the urn. Since Nadia wasn’t much bigger than Charlotte, it would have been physically impossible.
    Not if she’d turned the urn on its side . In her mind’s eye, Charlotte pictured the two large men in Patsy’s yard struggling to even move the heavy urn. “No way,” Charlotte whispered again. There was simply no way Nadia could have handled that heavy urn by herself.
    A horn suddenly blared behind her, and Charlotte jumped. The traffic light had turned green. “Okay, okay,” she muttered. “Just keep your shirt on.” She eased the van across St. Charles Avenue.
    The killer had to have been a man, she decided as she bumped across the streetcar tracks that ran down the middle of St. Charles. And a big man at that. A man at least the size of Daniel....
    Daniel .

Chapter Six

    U ntil that very moment, the possibility of Daniel being considered a suspect had not even entered Charlotte’s mind. But it should have, considering his intimate involvement with Nadia. Not for one second did Charlotte think that Daniel would have done such a horrible thing. She didn’t. And he wouldn’t. Not her Daniel, who was funny and smart, yet sweet and kind. Not in a million years. Besides, as an attorney, he was an officer of the court. That fact, along with his impeccable moral and spiritual convictions, was more than enough reason for Charlotte to reject the possibility of Daniel being a murderer.
    But the police might think differently. Charlotte grimaced, and a hard knot of fear grew in her stomach. There was no “might” about it. If Nadia was their number one suspect, then Daniel would definitely be their number two suspect. Maybe even their number one, especially once they learned about his and Nadia’s relationship during the past six months and their recent marriage.
    Charlotte’s hands trembled as she parked the van in the tight space between two vehicles alongside the curb in front of Daniel’s house.
    Stop it! Stop it right now You’re letting your imagination get the better of you. “Or else reading too many mystery novels,” she whispered to herself. Everyone was suspect in a mystery novel.
    For as long as she could remember, she’d always had an active imagination. But having an active imagination could be both a blessing and curse, and Charlotte sometimes en-vied those who could go along life’s merry way, taking things strictly at face value. Right now, having an active imagination was definitely a curse, she decided.
    Maybe she should start reading romance novels instead. Most of those were upbeat and, well, romantic. And they always had a happy ending. Maybe she would try one by that local author everyone was always talking about, the one who lived in Daniel’s neighborhood. But what was her name? Rexanne something. Maybe Becnel? Yep, that was it. Rexanne Becnel.
    “Aunt Charley?”
    Daniel’s voice outside the window of the van gave her a start. She jerked her head to the left just as he opened her door.
    “Is something wrong?” He leaned down to peer in at her, his hand on the edge of the door.
    “Ah—no, hon. Just wool-gathering. Something I seem to be doing a lot of lately.” She removed the keys