Rachel Gibson - It Must Be Love

"Ms. Breedlove," Shanahan interrupted, "I don't give a rat's ass about some damn candy bar you stole when you were seven."

Gabrielle's gaze darted between the two men. Captain Luchetti looked dazed, while deep grooves dented Shanahan's forehead and the sides of his mouth.

Any semblance of peace and serenity had deserted her long ago, and her nerves were raw. She couldn't stop the tears filling her eyes, and she placed her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. Maybe she shouldn't have refused her right to an attorney, but until now she hadn't really believed she'd needed one. In the small town where she'd been born and raised, she knew everyone, including the police officers. They were always bringing her aunt Yolanda home after she'd accidentally walked off with someone else's property.

Of course, there were only three police officers in her hometown, but they were more than just three men who drove around in gas-guzzling automobiles. They were nice guys who helped people.

Her hands dropped to her lap, and she looked back up through her tears. Captain Luchetti still stared at her, looking as tired as she felt. Shanahan had disappeared. He'd probably gone to get the thumbscrews.

Gabrielle sighed and brushed the moisture from her eyes. She was in big trouble. An hour ago, she'd felt certain, they'd let her go when they realized she hadn't done anything wrong- not really. She never would have carried the derringer if she hadn't felt threatened by Detective Shanahan. And besides, no one got into real trouble in Idaho for carrying concealed. But now she realized they thought she was somehow involved in something she wasn't, and neither was Kevin. She knew him too well to believe otherwise. Yes, Kevin had several businesses besides Anomaly; he was a successful entrepreneur. He made a lot of money, and yes he was perhaps a little greedy, and self-absorbed, and far more concerned with money than his soul, but that certainly wasn't a crime.

"Why don't you take a look at these," Captain Luchetti suggested, then slid two written appraisals and a stack of Polaroids across the table toward her.

She felt shaky all over and more frightened now than she'd been earlier.

The antique pieces in the pictures were mostly Oriental in origin; a few were Staffordshire. If they were true antiques, and not reproductions, they were also very expensive. She turned her attention to the insurance appraisals. They weren't reproductions.

"What can you tell me about those?"

"I would say this Ming bowl is closer to seven thousand than eight. But the appraisal is fair."

"Do you sell this sort of thing in your store?"

"I could, but I don't," she answered as she read the descriptions of several more items. "These things generally sell better at auctions or stores dealing strictly in antiques. People don't come into Anomaly looking for Staffordshire. If one of my customers picked up this little cow creamer here, they'd go into sticker shock and put it right back on the shelf where it would probably stay for several years."

"Have you ever seen these items before today?"

She pushed the papers to the side and looked at the captain across the table. "Are you accusing me of stealing them?"

"We know they were stolen from a home on Warm Springs Avenue three months ago."

"I didn't do it!"

"I know." Luchetti smiled, then reached across the table to pat her hand. "Sal Katzinger already confessed. Listen, if you're not involved in any illegal activity, then you have nothing to worry about. But we know for a fact that your boyfriend is up to his bal-er, eyeballs in selling stolen goods."

Gabrielle frowned. "Boyfriend? Kevin isn't my boyfriend. I don't think it's a good idea to date your business partner."

The captain tilted his head to the side and looked at her as if he were trying to sort pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit. "So, you never dated him?"

"Oh, we dated a few times," Gabrielle continued with a dismissive wave of her hand, "that's how I know it's not a good idea, but that was a few years ago. We found we just weren't compatible. He's Republican. I vote Independent." It was the truth, but it wasn't the real reason. The real reason was far too personal to explain to the man across the table. How could she tell Captain Luchetti that Kevin had very thin lips, and as a result, she found him physically unappealing? The first time Kevin kissed her had ended any amorous feelings she might have felt for him. But just because Kevin didn't have lips didn't mean he was guilty of any crimes or he was a bad person. Shanahan had wonderful lips, which proved that appearances were deceiving, because he was a real jerk.

"Will you agree to take a lie detector test, Ms. Breedlove?" Luchetti asked, interrupting Gabrielle's silent contemplation of men and their lips.

Gabrielle's nose wrinkled with distaste. "Are you serious?" Even the thought of taking a test to detect a lie was abhorrent. Why should she have to prove she was telling the truth? She never lied. Well, not on purpose anyway. Sometimes she evaded or skirted the truth, which wasn't the same at all. Lying created bad karma, and she believed in karma. She'd been raised to believe it.

"If you're telling us the truth, then you have nothing to fear from taking the test. Look at it as proving your innocence. Don't you want to prove you're innocent?"

The door swung open before she could answer, and a man Gabrielle had never seen before entered the room. He was tall and thin and had a white comb-over covering his shiny pink head. He had a manila folder under one arm. "Hello, Ms. Breedlove," he said as he shook her hand. "I'm Jerome Walker, chief of police. I've just spoken with Prosecuting Attorney Blackburn, and he is willing to offer you complete immunity."

"Immunity from what?"

"Right now the charges against you are carrying a concealed weapon and aggravated assault on a law enforcement officer."

That law enforcement officer part of the aggravated assault charge had her worried. They obviously didn't think she'd been justified in carrying the derringer, no matter what she'd believed. Fifteen years was the maximum sentence. She wondered what the minimum was, but she guessed she really didn't want to know.

She had two choices. She could hire a lawyer, go to court and fight the charges, or she could cooperate with the police. Neither option held an ounce of appeal, but she supposed she could listen to their offer. "What would I have to do?"

"You would sign a confidential informant agreement, and then we'd place an undercover detective in your store."

"As a customer?"

"No, we thought he could pose as a relative who needs work."

"Kevin won't let my relatives work in the store any more." Not since she'd had to fire her third cousin, Babe Fairchild, for scaring customers with her stories of levitation and thought transference. "And besides, I don't think I'll be much help to you. I won't be in the store this Friday and Saturday. I'll be at the Coeur Festival in Julia Davis Park."

Chief Walker pulled out the chair across the table from her and sat. He placed the folder on the table in front of him. "Coors Festival?"

"Coeur. Heart. I have a booth to sell my essential oils and aromatherapies."

"Will Carter be in your shop while you're at this heart thing?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, how about if you hire a handyman to work for you?"

"I don't know." Actually, she and Kevin had discussed hiring someone to move a shelving system to a bigger wall and building more storage shelves in the back room. And she needed new countertops in the back, too, but the store hadn't done as well during the past holiday season as they'd hoped, and he'd rejected the idea as an unnecessary expense.

"Kevin's tight with money right now," she told them.