More Poison in Your Coffee?

Chaper 9

       After I guilt-tripped Henry into letting me borrow his car, a distinctive neon green SUV he'd dubbed The Snotrocket, I decided I would drive over to Allison Fleming's apartment to question her about Bo's death. 

        "How'd things go with Leggy Jenna?" I'd asked as I dropped him off at his house. 

        "She's a talker. At one point I thought I was going to go into a coma." 

        "Serves you right for sleeping with her on the first night. Now you're stuck with the crazy." 

        "You're the one who- you know what never mind. There's no point trying to reason with the criminally insane." 

        "You got Allison's address like I asked, right?"  

        "Yeah... all I did was google her name, Evie. It literally took me five minutes, you could have done it yourself if you weren't so freaking lazy."  

        "But then I wouldn't have needed my trusty Watson." I'd teased. 

        "Get out of my car." 

        "Come on, It's a testament to our friendship that I trust you to be my Watson." He grumbled something about a pain in his ass then got out of the car.

        Now I was parked across the street from the Hargrove Apartments, staking out the woman who had a very good chance of being Bo's killer. I made my way up the three flights of stairs and knocked on her door, listening for movement on the other side. 

        When she finally opened the door Allison was fresh faced and perkier than I've ever seen her. It seemed no love was lost between her and Bo, not like I blamed her. Unlike Karalyn, who had appeared with her face worn and puffy from crying, Allison looked down right ecstatic.  

        "You're that lady from the cafe, right?" She was dressed in an oversized Orson University sweatshirt and hot pants. The nails on her bare feet looked freshly polished and I could faintly smell chamomile tea wafting from inside her door. 

        "Yeah, Evelyn Harper." 

        "What do you want?" Okay, I detect a slight attitude. I'm going to let that slide. 

        "I just came by to ask some questions about that day in the cafe." 

         "What are you a detective or something?" She inched the door together slightly, ready to dismiss me. 

        "Or something. There have been claims made that in the past you've solicited to Bo for favors at work." 

        "Solicited?" The technical term is prostituting but that's not something you call someone to their face. 

        "I've been told you offered to sleep with Bo in exchange for favors on the job. There are also claims you threatened to sue him for harassment." 

        "Let me guess, Karalyn told you that." She opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Come on in." 

       I walked in slowly observing the place my potential killer called home. Girl was anal as hell. The room was immaculate, the living area was decorated with a dark brown leather sofa and two matching recliners that were positioned exactly parallel to each other. Not a scratch or tear adorned them. The coffee table was in the middle, polished wood that shined so bright I was betting I could probably see my reflection in it.

        Another room another possible contender in Better Homes, not a nick nak or photo anywhere. It was like one of those display rooms at furniture stores. Real cute to look at, but with no authentic evidence that anyone actually lived there.