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. 

         What's with all these people and their perfect homes? I can't keep my apartment clean if Henry's life depended on it. I feel so inadequate right about now. 

        Allison waved me to the couch and walked into the adjoined kitchen, also spotless, and poured herself a cup of tea. 

        "Would you like some?" She asked me. 

        "No thanks." Better to not drink the tea when you visit someone you suspect of poisoning. 

        She walked back over with less enthusiasm than a fat turkey two days before Thanksgiving and sat on one of the chairs. She produced a coaster from seemingly thin air and set her mug on the table. 

         "What do you want to know?" 

        "What's the story with you and Bo? Karalyn said you offered to sleep with him in exchange for job security." I'd wanted to be subtle but I just didn't know how to go about it the right way. This detective stuff was harder than it looked. 

        "Lying bitch. That's not how it happened at all." She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her stringy brown locks. "Bo was the one who came on to me." 

         "He came on to you?" 

        "Yeah. I don't come from an affluent background. Not like Bo or Karalyn, but I don't come from trash either. Just humble folks who worked hard to put me through school." She took a moment to take a sip of her tea. "I don't know where all those poor girl rumors came from, but anyway I've always wanted to be a reporter. Ever since before I could remember but after I graduated I found that it was hard out here if you don't have any good connections."  

        She cradled the mug in the palm of her hands, absorbing the warmth and staring into the dark reflection of her tea. 

        "So when Bo offered me the chance to intern for him, I jumped at it." 

        "Then what?" 

         "About three months in he started hinting that if I slept with him, he'd put in a good word. Maybe get me a permanent position." 

        "And did you?" 

         "Hell no! That man's old enough to be my father!" She made a disgusted face. "After that he started treating me real awful. Talking dirty to me, rubbing on me when he could and spreading lies around the station." 

         "Why didn't you tell someone?" 

        "I thought about it, even threatened him, but he laughed in my face and told me no one would believe me and that if he told people I was the one acting inappropriately my reputation would be shit and my career would be over." That sounded like something Bo would say. "I hated him more than I've ever hated anyone, but I swear I didn't kill him." 

        I thought this over for a minute, taking in her tidy world and type-A lifestyle. Wondering if this petite overachiever could have the stuff it takes to poison someone's cake slice. 

        "I admit I'm not unhappy Bo's dead, but I don't have it in me to murder someone." 

        "Were you there?" 

        "There, where?" She asked with perplexity shrouding her face. 

        "When he died. Did you see him die?" 

       "Oh no," She shook her head. "I'd long since left. I wish I could've seen that fucker go."  

        "Who do you think did it?" 

         "I don't know, maybe Karalyn?"I sighed and stood. Looked like there wasn't much more to learn here.  

       She thanked me for dropping by and saw me to the door, all the while insisting that she had nothing to do with Bo's murder.

        Back in Henry's car I replayed the scene in my mind. She seemed innocent, but then what did I know? Detective Juarez was right, I could go around learning all I wanted about the case but I wasn't trained on what exactly to do with all I'd learned. I could ask questions and people could even give answers, but I had no way of knowing if they were lying or not. As I drove off, I made a silent note that Allison was still my number one suspect.

********************************

        Since I was in the neighborhood I decided to stop by Earl's office and see what I could get from him. That day in the cafe the little guy had seemed really mad and I wondered if his anger had been high enough to sprinkle a little arsenic over Bo's cake slice. 

        Star Access Publishing house was known for printing books by C rate celebrities about the struggles they'd faced to get to the top and blah blah blah. What they really peddled were celebrities giving their dirty secrets or offering get famous quick schemes to the public that loved them. Some were barely better than the tabloids.  

        I'd flipped through Bo's book while I was bored the other day and every other page was about how awesome he was and how he'd beat the odds to accomplish his dreams. Never mind that he was a trust fund baby with a golden spoon shoved up his ass. The way he told it he's had it so rough an we should be so lucky to learn life lessons from him. Excuse me while I barf.

        I walked in and gave the receptionist my name and told her I was in to see Earl. She had me sit and after twenty minutes Earl finally came out of his office. 

         "Hello, Miss Evelyn. Nice to see you today." He shook my hand and led me into the privacy of his office. 

        It was a small number barely big enough for his desk. I sat down in the single chair across from his, and he took his handkerchief out to wipe sweat from that giant head of his. 

        "What can I do for you today?" He asked as he leaned back in his swivel chair. 

        "I'm investigating Bo's murder and I wanted to ask you questions." 

        "What do you want to know? You don't think I did it do you?" 

        "No, sir. What can you tell me about Brock Conway?" 

        "Well, he's Bo's younger brother. They grew up out there on King's Dock, grandsons of some oil tycoon. Bo's always been good with his money, but Brock not so much. Of course you can read all about that in our newest book, Becoming Bo." 

        Oh hell no, he was not pimping Bo's book to me right now. Resisting the urge to back hand him, I pressed forward. 

        "I'll pass. What was the relationship like between Brock and Bo?" I figured if anyone was privy to the information, it might be Earl. Besides, I wasn't sure how to find Brock, I'd checked the phone book but his number was unlisted. 

        "Well, as far as I knew, Bo couldn't stand Brock but he had a sense of family connection so he tried to help him out. Brock has a bit of a gambling problem though, so every time Bo gave him money, he'd just lose it all." I'd already figured as much. 

        "Do you know about any secret the two might have had? Something that Brock might not want people to know?" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. 

        "Naw. I don't know anything like that. Bo never confided that deeply with me. All I know is twenty years ago, Brock was total a wild child so it's not shocking that he'd have a bit of a past." 

        "Anything else you can tell me?" 

        "No ma'am. Although, Bo once said that Brock owed him one big time, but I didn't know what it meant." 

        I looked over him, taking in his scrawny little body and over-sized head. He'd been so mad the day Bo died that I'd thought he'd of killed him on the spot.  

        "Where were you when Bo died?" 

         "Bout two feet away from him, on the phone." He looked me over. "If you're insinuating that I'm the murderer, you're barking up the wrong tree, honey." 

        "You were pretty pissed at him." He thought back a moment then bust out with a hearty laugh that shook the room. 

        "That's true but look here, I ain't got no good reason to want him dead. I didn't particularly like the guy, but it's not like he's my only client. And his book's already finished. It was just business for me." I stood and shook his hand one more time. "If I had to guess," He was saying. "I'd think it was Brock. He's crazy in love with that wife of his and would do anything to keep her." 

        "Anything?" I asked as I stood to leave. 

        "Anything."