Page 167 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Slow Burn

He thumbed back a page or two. That quiche smelled awfully
good. I hoped Labelle would realize it was our lunchtime, too.
“Ah, now I remember. We ran out of artichoke hearts yesterday
afternoon. I hadn’t stocked enough, and we anticipated a need for
them for the dinner rush. So I ran out and picked up a couple of
large cans. That was right before five o’clock. Earlie Mae can confirm
that. Then I took an order at 5:15, went out and delivered it around
5:30, not too far from here. I can give you the address of the
customer.”
“Sergeant Donat will copy that directly off your pad,” said Labelle.
I did so, while Quantrill went into the kitchen to slice the fresh pie.
He returned with his package and fairly grabbed the pad out of my
hands.
“Sorry. I’ve got to run. Unless you have some reason for me to
stay.”
“No. Go ahead. But don’t leave town in the next few days.”
And he was gone. We wandered into the kitchen. The woman
looked at us with curiosity. “You’re police?”
We showed our badges again. She barely glanced at them. “Oh, I
heard about Quantrill’s uncle. Isn’t it terrible? I’m Earlie Mae
Flowers, I live just down the hall. Had a lot of time on my hands
after my husband died, so I was glad to go into business with
Quantrill. No commute time at all, and we can eat whatever we don’t
sell.”
“Too early for leftovers?” I eyed the quiche on the stove.
“It certainly is! We’re operating on a tight budget here.”
Labelle said, “Sergeant Donat would like to ask you some
questions about what you and Mr. Carbone were doing yesterday. I
just need to powder my nose. Excuse me.”
Powder her nose! Labelle knew how to talk to people; she must
have learned it from a manual somewhere, but it worked. I verified
Quantrill Carbone’s story, all the while tormented by the proximity of
fresh hot food. Then Labelle returned, thanked the good woman, and
we left.
“No fluorescent pink trousers or green sports coat in the closet.
No wig, either,” she said, as we got into our car. Labelle had been
conducting a slightly illegal search instead of relieving herself. “I had
trouble finding the bathroom.”

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