The nicer part, sure. “What happened then?”
“I punched him in the face.”
I perked up even more. Maybe there was DNA on his clothing. Anything that gave Nick reasonable doubt worked for me. “Did he bleed?”
She cut me a look. “No. I mean, it was one punch. He shoved me back, I fell, then he and that wench—who had to be what, like dumber than a box of rocks—they got into his truck and drove off.”
“Did you see anybody follow them?”
“No.”
I took a deep breath. “Can you think of anybody else who would’ve wanted Richard dead?”
“Anybody else? I didn’t want him dead. I wanted him very much alive,” she snapped. “But I think he was seeing a couple of other women in town. I don’t know who. Or maybe they were over in Timber City. He was a horny guy.” She grinned, showing tobacco-stained but very straight teeth. “I thought I could tame him, you know? You always think you can tame them, and you never can.”
“Some guys should never be tamed.” Aiden filtered through my mind. I liked him the way he was, that was for certain. I didn’t think Lisa had anything else to add. “All right, sorry about this.” I scooted my butt around, turned, and kicked the decorative leg of the hutch. The wood cracked. Taking a deep breath, I looked at her. “Be ready to scramble out of the way in case this thing comes down.”
She was already moving to the side of the heavy piece.
I scooted as far as I could to the other side and then kicked again. The wood splintered and the leg dropped. The hutch remained in place. I scrambled up and pulled the rope free before taking a deep breath. “All right. Where’s your phone?”
“Hey, untie me.”
“I’ll untie you after I get your phone.” The woman had attacked me twice, and I didn’t trust her not to do it again. “Or I’ll just leave and go get help.”
Her eyes spit fury at me. “Unless they took it, my phone is in the back office on top of my desk.”
God, I hoped they hadn’t taken it. I walked between many booths, noting the carnage. The Cupids hadn’t been gentle when they yanked things off shelves and walls. Shattered glass covered most surfaces. I made my way to the back office to see it tossed. Lisa’s phone was nowhere in sight.
Using my knee, I hitched open her top drawer to find scissors. This would hurt, but I turned and grasped them, trying to cut my hands free. Pain sliced into my wrists, but the rope loosened, and soon I could twist free.
Wincing, I let the rope drop and pulled my arms around to see my wounded wrists. “Do you have bandages?” I yelled.
“No,” she bellowed back.
Great. Searching the office, I found a box of tissues and pressed several against my wounds to stem the bleeding.
My body aching, I returned to her booth. I don’t know why my knee hurt, but it was suddenly killing me. I must’ve twisted it somehow. “Your phone isn’t back there. Where’s the nearest business or home?”
She sighed. “There’s a gas station about a mile down the way. It’s pretty deserted, but old Harry’s usually behind the till. Are you going to release me?”
I thought about it. “No, I’m not.” With that, I limped toward the door. Hopefully Harry was working today.
Two elderly women walked inside, chattering happily about finding the perfect wedding gift for somebody named Allison as they shook snow off their coats on the mat. I stopped walking and hovered, not wanting to startle them. In unison, they silenced and looked at me. The tallest one screamed and laboriously pulled a humungous silver-barreled revolver out of her wide crocheted purse.
I froze. “Whoa.”
Her hand shook on the obviously heavy weapon. She was about my height and slender beneath her black wool coat, the long sleeves partially covering her hands. “Don’t move.”
“I’m not.” I took a deep breath. “That’s the biggest handgun I’ve ever seen.” I wasn’t aDirty Harryfan, but I was fairly certain I saw him wielding one of those on a commercial for an old movie.
She nodded vigorously, her faded green eyes wide and curled white hair bobbing. “It’s a Smith & Wesson 500 revolver. I borrowed it from my grandson, George.”
I had absolutely no idea why George would need that much firepower. “Is your grandson here?” I wouldn’t mind a voice of reason.
She snorted. “No. He’s working. Today is a workday for most folks your age. But not you. You robbed this place.”
My head dropped to note the disaster of stains, now including blood, on my wool coat. “I didn’t rob anybody.” Holding my hands up, I let the bloody tissues float to the floor. Except one. That one remained stuck to my injured right wrist. “The Cupid gang came in and robbed us. They tied us up, and I just got free.”
