“Showtime is over.” I clap my hands for emphasis.
Felix makes a pouty face, like he was just getting started, so I grab him by the wrist and drag him out of my room.
In the lobby, we hit the brakes when the revolving door disgorges Claude’s sister, carrying the world’s largest purse.
“I’m back,” she announces before we can say anything. “Eventhough I’m risking my life being here. And yes, I was gone less than twenty-four hours. I know the rules.”
Her tone is so snippy, I’m surprised she doesn’t add a“neener-neener.”Felix glances behind us, to see if there’s a bigger audience for this speech.
“I had to visit Bradley’s parents, to comfort them in their affliction.” She heaves one more dramatic sigh before sweeping past us.
“Does she think there’s a hidden camera?” I whisper.
“I wish she would monologue about something useful,” Felix replies as we watch her step into the elevator.
“Like what, ‘I am a murderer who murders? Put me in jail so I can’t steal this building’?”
“Ideally, yes.” He grins at me like he’s impressed. “That would be perfect.”
“I’ll write it into her script.”
There’s adingin the background of my thoughts, like my brain just made a connection, but it hasn’t bubbled up to the surface yet. I’ll have to think about that after we pay a call on Detective Ortiz.
It turns out you can’t waltz into a police station and demand to speak with a detective.
“Maybe if our last name was Odell, it would be a different story,” Felix mutters when they give us the runaround.
That gets the attention of the person on the other side of the desk. “You have information about the Odell case?”
“Yes,” Felix says, before I can qualify it with aSort of.
“Wait over there,” the clerk tells us, indicating a row of chairs.
I order myself not to fidget while she speaks to someone on the phone. No finger or foot tapping, because I am not doing anything sneaky.
“We’re being good citizens.”
“Totally,” Felix agrees, without turning his head. “If you meant to say that out loud.”
A few minutes later, the detective emerges from the hidden inner chambers of the police station. There’s a flicker of recognition on his face when he spots us, so I’m glad we didn’t stick around Mr. Odell’s office the other day to get caught.
I wait for him to escort us to his office or an interrogation room, but instead he sits down in the empty chair to my left.
“What can I do for you?” he asks.
“We heard the news about…” I trail off, not sure which words to use if I want to sound serious and professional. Felix sees me foundering and rushes to help.
“The Castle Claude murder,” he supplies.
Detective Ortiz blinks, probably resigning himself to a hysterical confession from two wannabe teen sleuths. I can almost hear him thinking,Damn you, Netflix!
“It’s about this.” I remove the velvet case containing the ring from my purse. “Claude left it to me in his will,” I explain. “There’s a secret compartment.”
“They call them poison rings,” Felix adds, waiting for the detective to fill in the blanks.
“May I?” Detective Ortiz holds out his hand, and I pass him the box.
“It seemed like something you should know about,” I say as he lifts the lid, examining the ring without touching it.
