Chapter 7: Paste

I stood up, and the chair fell over behind me.

Nobody picked it up.

Eighty people in the inn dining room had stopped chewing.

"Sheriff, I have never seen those stones in my life," I said.

"They were in your coat," Beatrice said.

"My coat was on a hook in a house with a key you don't hold."

"The inn staff have keys to every Rooke property."

"Then one of your staff put them there."

"That's a serious thing to say about people who've worked here thirty years."

"It's a serious thing to find in a pocket."

The sheriff looked at the ceiling and then at the floor.

"Ms. Larkin, I'm not accusing you. I'm required to hold you while this is sorted."

"Wait."

Ansel had stood.

His voice was rough from the night, and the room went quiet again.

"I put them there," he said.

I turned to stare at him.

"I gave her the necklace last night. I wanted her to have it. It was a gift."

"Ansel," his mother said.

"She's the maid of honor, and my bride's sister. I wanted her to feel she belonged."

It was a good lie, and it was clumsy, and he told it with his eyes on the sheriff and not on me.

I understood it in a flash.

Eight hours ago he had thrown me out of his bed.

Now he was putting his hand in front of a bullet.

My throat went tight, and I hated that it did.

"No," I said.

He went on talking.

"I'll take full responsibility."

"No, Ansel."

I walked around the table to stand beside him, in front of everyone.

"Thank you," I said. "But I'm not going to be saved by a lie."

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