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working it to my advantage. But that was tomorrow, today I had business to attend to.
    â€œWhat was up with Marla?” I asked.
    Nailor’s face went professional on me, tight and closed. “That’s an ongoing investigation,” he said, his voice deepening as he spoke.
    â€œNailor, I’m not a damned reporter. Lighten up and tell me what happened.”
    Nailor wasn’t budging.
    â€œAll right,” I said, “I’ll tell you. Marla threatened Venus. She was in the right place at the right time and she owns a gun. She’s your only suspect.”
    As I ticked off the evidence, I looked at him, trying to tell by his eyes if I was scoring a hit with the truth. He only went flat when I said Marla was the only suspect. Hmm, what could that mean?
    â€œSierra,” he said, “are you asking because you hate Marla, or is there something going on?”
    I straightened a little, placed my coffee cup on the floor beside me, and turned back to him.
    â€œI’m taking a personal interest in this,” I said. “I think with my expertise I might be able to lend a little help to the investigation.”
    Nailor didn’t laugh me off. He knew I could help, but that I would offer to help the police, well, that was new.
    â€œI don’t want to tread on any toes here,” I continued. “But I think you may be off on the wrong investigatory path. Marla couldn’t plan and execute a murder, no matter how worked up she was.”
    Nailor put his coffee cup down. “There’s things you don’t know, Sierra. Marla may look harmless, but I assure you, she’s not.”
    â€œOh, you’re not telling me anything new there. Marla’s capable of all kinds of things, but killing off a rival isn’t one of them. If that were so, I’d have been dead long ago.” I thought of the one or two times Marla and I had engaged in fisticuffs. The look in her eyes had not been blood lust; it was more a look of fear.
    â€œA killer needs the conviction to do the deed,” I said, quoting him from prior occasions. “Marla ain’t got conviction. Deep in her heart, Marla knows Ricky’s pond scum.”
    Nailor softened. “Sierra, I’ll work it out. If she’s innocent, I’ll soon see that, but it doesn’t look that way now. Let me do my job. You don’t need to go stepping into something that really doesn’t concern you.”
    I was starting to bristle. He was talking to me as if I was Joan Q. Citizen, and I assure you that I am not.
    â€œI’m in it, Nailor. I’m going to help Vincent and Marla, and there won’t be a thing you can do about it.” There, the glove was down, the challenge made.
    His face reddened and he struggled, torn between his anger and his desire to get into my pants. I felt for him, I really did.
    â€œSierra, you’ll only…” He broke off, not wanting to go there.
    â€œWhat, Nailor, be in the way? Is that what you think? Well, I can handle myself, you know.”
    He eased up, working hard to control his temper. “I know you can handle yourself,” he said slowly. He reached over and untied the top ribbon of my gown. “But can you handle me?”
    I felt my resolve weakening. I leaned a little closer toward him, my head resting on his shoulder.
    â€œHave you recovered the gun?” I asked softly, my hands wandering down the length of his body. “What size was the, um, bullet?” My fingers slipped below his belt, teasing him and distracting him, looking for the information I wanted.
    Nailor said nothing, his breathing quickening. He untied the second ribbon, and my gown fell open, exposing my breasts. Oh God, I wanted this man. I’d waited too long for this.
    â€œHave you found any fingerprints that would link Marla to the murder?” I asked softly, my breath caressing his ear. He moaned.
    â€œYou’re hopeless,” he said softly.