“Why the hell would someone blow up the Moore’s house?” Goldie wanted to know. She’d waited all day for answers. Tonight, she wore a pair of black capri pants, black platform sandals and a white V-neck cotton shirt with gold sequins in a diamond pattern across the front. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but fluffed or teased up in the front. Between the heels and the hair, she was almost my height.
“We think it’s because of the vial of semen we found,” I said casually, as if I was talking about getting eggs at the store.
Goldie tilted her head down to look at me over her reading glasses. They attached at the sides to a rhinestone covered chain about her neck. She didn’t say anything, just turned back to ringing up her sale on the cash register. I knew that look. It was half WTF, a
