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All rights reserved, The Wild Rose Press
His attention focused back on me. This was not the result I wanted. I was trying to get him to leave, not stay. Man, I shouldn't be allowed in public without a keeper.
“When did you get this call?”
“About midnight. I'd gotten some messages while I was out so I listened to them. Then as I was going to bed the phone rang and someone said something like ‘It's not about Jan, it's about you. Watch out or you'll be next'.” I smiled apologetically. “I don't remember. I was almost asleep.”
“Man or woman?”
I hesitated. “I think woman, but it was hard to tell.”
He absorbed my words, staring at something just beyond my left ear. “You don't seem worried,” he finally said.
“Well, no.” I shrugged. “It had to be about Jan, didn't it? Who knew I would be standing in line just when she died? If someone wanted to hurt me, that's not the way to go about it.”
He looked back down at the conference notebook in his hands, flipping to another page. “Maybe it's not about physically hurting you. Maybe they want the police to think you caused Miss Pritchard's death. Maybe that's what they meant.” His eyes returned to mine. “Like this— ‘ Make Sure Your Alibi's Straight: Getting Out of a Sticky Spot '.”
I gaped at him. Surely he didn't think I was a killer?