What the hell do you think you’re doing!”
Harlowe swung around quickly at the snarl coming from behind her at the yellow tape at the crime scene.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” she snarled back.
“It looks like you’re contaminating my crime scene,” he said when he reached her. “Get back over to the other side where you’re supposed to be.”
Harlowe pulled herself up to her tallest height of five foot two and gave him her coldest glare. “I am not going anywhere,” she informed the man she assumed was the detective on the case. She pointed to the body at her feet. “That man is my friend—was my friend. And my employee.” She swallowed hard, tamping down on her emotions, realizing Leo was truly gone. “He plays—played—Friday and Saturday nights at the Starlight Lounge, which I happen to own, if you must know.”
The man, who had yet to introduce himself, stepped within breathing distance, his features hard, his eyes glittering with anger and shoved his face into hers until she had to draw back.
“I don’t care what you own, or who you are, or who you know. You get your ass back across that line or you’ll find yourself in a cold jail cell.”
“Throw your weight around all you like, mister, but that isn’t going to stop me from finding out who killed my friend,” she told him too politely, as she walked off, bending down to go under the yellow crime scene tape.
How dare he say those things to her? Didn’t he know who she was?
Harlowe stopped in her tracks. No, she wasn’t going to play that card. That would be wrong. Sure, she was rich. One of the richest in the country. She could squander and squander and still not go through her inheritance, even if she had two lifetimes to do it.
But Leo was her friend and she wasn't about to stand by for anyone, law or not, until she got to the bottom of this.
Her dear friend was gone with no way back.
Someone was going to pay for this, she vowed. And, come hell or high water, someone would pay. And justice would be doled out by her hand.