Stella, Get Your Gun by Nancy Bartholomew

Author:Nancy Bartholomew [Bartholomew, Nancy]
Format: mobi
Tags: Suspense
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2004-03-14T11:00:00+00:00

I awoke hours later to the realization that I couldn’t face the rest of the day without knowing if what Paint Bucket had told me was true. I showered, dressed and slipped out of the house without waking Nina, drove my Camaro to the nearest convenience store and gulped down coffee in an attempt to organize my approach. I arrived at the police department just as morning roll call was ending and the day shift was leaving for their tour of duty.

I sat in the lobby cooling my heels for half an hour before Detectives Slovineck and Poltrone decided to wander out and take me into their inner sanctum. The first thing I noticed was their attitude change. They were suddenly thicker than the Great Wall of China, and just as impenetrable. They escorted me past their tiny cubicles, down the hallway to an interview room, where they sat like statues across from me at a battered wooden table, their expressions blank and their answers painfully repetitious.

“I’m sorry, we can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”

“Since when?”

Poltrone looked as if she wanted to say something, but bit her tongue at a glance from her partner.

“It’s complicated,” Slovineck answered. He looked uncomfortable and kept tugging at his tie, struggling to loosen the knot that seemed to be choking him.

“So be a pal and tell me anyway,” I said.

Slovineck shook his head. “No can do.”

The interview room door swung open. A young patrol officer stuck her head in and, at the nod from Detective Slovineck, entered and crossed to his side.

“Got it?” Slovineck asked.

The officer nodded, handing a thin sheaf of papers to the big detective. “He wants you to call him later,” she said.

“Will do,” Slovineck said, but his attention was already turned to the papers.

“Is that about the men who broke into our house?”

Poltrone gave me a look, as if she’d enjoy it if I made a move to grab the papers so she could finally take out her frustrations on me in a physical manner.

I growled at her and focused on Slovineck. “Have you found my aunt?”

The longer he stayed silent, the more my stomach churned. I had the sudden vision of Aunt Lucy, dead and lying on cold ground somewhere. “What is it?” I demanded.

Slovineck looked up at me and smiled. “It seems there’s papers out on you,” he said. He studied his new information with elaborate care, slowly bringing his eyes up to meet mine. “Seems a Pete O’Brian has charged you with stealing his dog, communicating terroristic threats and assault with intent to kill.”

“No fucking way! That son of a bitch!”

I was on my feet and charging Slovineck before I could stop, but not before Poltrone could come up behind me, her arm stretching out to hook my neck and connecting instead with my left temple.

“Sit down!” Slovineck thundered.

I froze, suddenly aware of the trouble I could be in if I assaulted a fellow police officer. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I just don’t think you’re playing straight with me here.

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