“Nitric acid available to the public has a much lower concentration of acid than fuming nitric acid.” He took out his phone and showed me a video. A guy sprayed a glove with the acid, and it burst into flames.
“Woah,” I said. “That’s very cool.”
“What’s your take on Edgar Jones, Nora?” Reese asked. “You usually have a sixth sense, no psychic pun intended, about these cases.”
“I don’t think Edgar is our guy. This man... he seems more like a geek or a nerd,” Reese commented.
“Edgar is totally a nerd,” Reese commented.
“I mean, like a science fiction and science fact kind of nerd.”
Reese peered at Broyles. “You mean like Tony?”
“Tony, huh?” She flushed. “That’s his name.”
“It is,” Broyles agreed. There was a hint of amusement in his tone. “Am I a suspect?”
“No,” I replied. Not because he wasn’t capable. The guy loved movies, science fiction, and he was an expert in stuff that blew up. But when that stink bomb went off, I saw one of the worst days, I assumed, of his life. If he’d been responsible for what was going on, he wouldn’t have picked something so triggering.
“That’s it?” he asked jovially, “just ‘no’?”
“If you had been the guy, I would have seen it already. You have some very strong emotions.”
He paled, then nodded. “Gotcha.”
“Well, I, for one, am comforted that you have gotten Nora’s seal of approval,” Reese said.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I snickered.
Broyles laughed again. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you before.”
“It’s fine,” I told him. “My ability can be hard for people to believe. I struggled with it myself. Besides, we live in Missouri. Sometimes you’ve got to show to know.”
He chuckled. “You showed me.”
“I sure did.” I glanced down the corridor that led to Shawn’s office. “At this rate, I think she’s knitting them a butthole necklace.”
“What?” Reese asked, confused.
Broyles gave her a barely perceptible headshake and said, “I’ll explain it later.”
“Cripes, what fresh hell am I living in?” a woman behind us asked. I knew the voice immediately. Carol Flipping Billingsly. Whatever I’d done in this life or another, I can’t believe it warranted this kind of payback.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here, Carol?”
“I could ask you the same,” she countered.
“I was summoned.”
“Hah!” She smiled smugly. “I was invited.”
“Potatoes, po-tah-toes.”
“The mayor is going to give me an exclusive,” she bragged. “Edgar Jones, Prank Bank Mastermind.”
I almost choked on my own spit. “That headline is heinous.”
“You’re heinous,” Carol said. “I can’t wait to expose all your secrets, Nora. Then people will know what I’ve known all along. You’re a selfish, entitled brat.”
