Caught Redhanded. Gayle Roper
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blinked and became all business. “Jolene, you’re drowning that poor philodendron and watering the floor. Since there’s nothing to hear anymore, I’d suggest you get back to work. Or go home and bother Reilly.”
Totally unintimidated at being caught redhanded, Jolene walked slowly, gracefully, to the shelf where she kept her watering can. She put it away and grabbed a handful of paper towels, returning to the scene of the inundation and mopping the puddle that had formed on the floor.
Mac pushed back his chair, rose and made for the rear door. His posture was rigid, his lips pursed. “See you tomorrow,” he muttered.
I watched the door close behind him. “He’s upset.”
“Wouldn’t you be if the police came to interview you?”
“The police have interviewed me lots of times.”
“Yeah,” Jo agreed, “but your name wasn’t tattooed on a murdered woman’s shoulder.”
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