You Owe Me a Murder(65)

I fished it out, showed her that the record function wasn’t on, and then dropped it into my bag. She pointed at my chest and I lifted my shirt so she could see I wasn’t wearing a wire. Nicki looked me up and down and then lightly touched the side of her mouth. She pulled her fingers back. They were smeared red. The tip of her pink tongue darted out and licked away the blood. Then she smiled.

“I didn’t think you had that in you.”

“You stay away from him,” I whispered. All the anger that had built up since finding that small jar on my bed was gone, burned up in the one punch. I clenched my fist and pain shot into my wrist and to my elbow and then to my shoulder. I might have broken a finger. I didn’t care. “He could have died.” My voice cracked on the last word.

Nicki bent down and righted her bike, nudging the kickstand into place so the bicycle was propped up at the side of the walkway. “You say it like I should be surprised. That was the entire point.” She brushed her skirt, ridding it of non-existent dirt. “I had to make you understand that I mean business. I realized that all the time I’d been threatening to tell the police that you were the one who killed Connor, I’d been going about it the wrong way. You don’t much care what people think at this point. And clearly the concept that you might go to jail wasn’t enough.” She held up a finger as if making a point. “But ah, threaten the boy genius and that was a game changer.”

“His name is Alex.”

She stepped past me, brushing my shoulder. Her perfume smelled like oranges and baby powder. I wanted to rub the sweet smell out of my nose. Nicki sat on the park bench. “Is this some kind of thing where you try to personalize him so that I’ll feel bad? It’s like when vegans call a pig Wilbur. It’s supposed to make you turn to broccoli over bacon if the creature has a name.”

Is that how she sees all of us? Like livestock? “Leave him out of this.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. It had grown longer since we’d first met; it no longer popped right back out. “I wasn’t the one who dragged him into this—?that was you. You’re the one playing Romeo and Juliet with the nerd king . . .” She smirked at my expression. “My apologies—?you’re the one playing Romeo and Juliet with Alex, instead of doing what you need to do.”

“I’m going to the police.”

“And telling them what, exactly? First off, right now everyone thinks it was an accident. I mean really, what kind of food handling can you expect from a restaurant like that?”

“Shut up,” I snarled.

“I’m not trying to offend your merry band of Thai friends; I’m merely pointing out that right now it’s just one of those things that can happen. If you go to the police with a wild conspiracy theory, it opens up other options for them to consider.”

“Like what?”

“Like that maybe you did it.”

I wanted to rip my hair out in frustration. “Why would I do it?”

“You’re a troubled girl. Perhaps you made him sick because you wanted to save him. Then he’d be in love with you. There’s even some kind of name for that—?I’ve read about it in those insipid women’s magazines my mother loves so much. The articles all have titles like ‘The Girl Who Loved Him to Death,’ with a lot of color photos and exclamation marks.” Nicki paused to smile at a young mom pushing a toddler in a stroller. She waved at the little girl, who waved back, her tiny pink starfish hand opening and closing.

I waited until the mother was out of view. “I would never hurt Alex. I’m in love with him.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized they were true. That was another thing Nicki had ruined. The first time I acknowledged that feeling should have been to Alex, not to her.

“I know that, and you know that, but given everything else, plus the evidence . . .”

I clenched my jaw. The wind rustled through the trees. “What evidence,” I got out.

She motioned to my tote bag. I pulled it open. Lying on top was an EpiPen.

I dropped the bag to the ground as if it were on fire. When she’d brushed past me, touching my shoulder, she must have slipped it in.

“Now, that’s not actually his. It’s a spare I picked up. But it could be his, and think how that would look?” She tsked.

“How?” I asked. “How did you get the shrimp powder into his food?”

Nicki rocked back and forth on the bench as if excited. “How do you think?”

“Did you bribe the kitchen staff?”

She looked disappointed. “Of course not. Never involve other people—?it just causes trouble. Look at all the headaches you’ve caused me, for example. Makes me wish I could handle my mother on my own. It would be far easier.”

“Did you slip into the kitchen somehow? But that meant you knew we would be there. And you knew about his allergy.”

“He told me that eons ago.” She looked down at her nails. “Or I should say, he told Erin. It’s remarkable what people will tell you if you pretend to be interested in them. And you never know how the information will be useful. It almost makes listening to people blather worthwhile.”

Nicki patted the seat next to her. “C’mon, sit with me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “No.”