Margot was in Dan’s neighborhood. She would have been aware of his comings and goings. She might have seen the gun he kept in his car. But how would she know he intended to shoot at me?
“Delaney,” he repeated. “Does it help?”
“Not yet. But if it does, I’ll let you know.” I left the room and walked back to my desk. I picked up the desk phone and called Myra’s cell.
“Officer Reed,” Myra answered crisply.
“Hey, Myra. Don’t be mad at Pearl.”
“Where are you?” she growled.
“At the station. I’m fine. She made me happy-face oatmeal and gave me my meds.”
“Delaney…” She reined her voice in to keep the anger down. She was really frustrated. “You need to turn around and drive back to my place and park yourself on my couch. Now.”
“Wow. You sounded a little like Dad right then. So I talked to Dan and Pearl. Turns out Dan blew up his own rhubarb patch.”
“Okay. Why do I care about this?”
“He says he didn’t have any bullets in his gun.”
“Yeah, I heard him yelling that all day yesterday.”
“I believe him.”
Myra paused and the crowd noise around her grew louder. Children laughing and squealing, people talking, and in the background, a voice I recognized as Thor crooning out a rock-n-roll ballad. He had a good voice.
“You believe Dan Perkin—who was standing right in front of you and pulled the trigger—didn’t shoot you,” she said. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Did you find the bullet casings?”
“Yes.”
“Did you check to make sure they were the correct bullets for Dan’s gun?”
“We’re processing the evidence.”
I waited.
“Not yet,” she said. “You were shot, Delaney. In surgery. Jean and I stayed with you after we locked up Dan. Then you ran away to abar. That morning I’d had to run dawn crowd control for the regatta blessing. We haven’t had time to do anything else, and as far as I care, Dan can sit and stew.”
“How was the blessing?” I asked, realizing Myra probably hadn’t gotten any sleep in the last twenty-four hours.
“Poseidon almost drowned himself.”
Of course he did.
“So, pretty much like normal?” I couldn’t keep the smile out of my voice.
“It’s not funny, Del.”
“It’s kind of funny.”
“All right.” She huffed out a breath. “Let’s say Dan is innocent. Then who the hell shot you? That wound was not made by an imaginary bullet.”
“I think there was someone else out there.”
“I hate that idea.”
