“But there are too many colors to choose from,” the girls said, her enthusiasm for the topic causing the words to slur together. “And they all have the same names.”
“Not exactly the same. The genus is the same.”
“Genus?” Veronica took two handfuls of her hair and tried to tie them in a knot beneath her chin. Failing, she huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulders. “What’s a genus?”
“The basic structure of the plant. They each get genetic combinations that make them different.”
“Do they get them from God? Mommy says God makes everything.” Not waiting for a response, Veronica tapped the book. “Go, go, go.”
Kayla turned a page and pointed to a diagram showing how a daisy was similar to a chrysanthemum. “See, they’re the same genus, but the flowers are different.”
“Do people have the same genus?”
“People are the genus homo sapiens.”
“But do they get different gen-tics?”
“Yes, gen-e-tics,” Kayla said, correcting her pronunciation.
“Like me and you?”
“You and I aren’t different. We’re both girl homo sapiens.”
“But I learn different. That’s gen-e-tic?” Veronica took her time with each syllable.
“Yes. Sort of.”
“And you and Kayla were the same but different?”
Kayla stifled a sob. “Yes, the same but different.”
CHAPTER FORTY
A few minutes after five,Megan entered the ABC Drugstore and inhaled. The aroma of hot popcorn wafted to her. She’d skipped lunch and nothing in the world made her hungrier than the scent of popcorn. Memories of watching tearjerker movies with her sister and gorging on junk food flooded her mind, but she pushed them aside. She’d never find the time. Not anytime soon. Not with her current caseload.
Badge displayed, she approached the pharmacy counter and introduced herself to Richard Troy. He was good-looking in a male model way, with broad shoulders, deep brooding eyes, and thick curly hair, which meant he fit the description of the potential killer provided by Kayla’s neighbor. When he smiled, crooked teeth bracketed by silver braces became the dominant feature of his face, eradicating the male model image and replacing it with something way more sinister.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Troy asked.
Megan was instantly on alert to his Mr. Nice Guy act. “Let’s talk in private.”
Troy turned to his associates. “I’m taking five, team.” He showed Megan to a nook where four chairs sat against the wall. A sign sayingFlu Shots Availablewas push-pinned above.
Remaining standing, Megan explained she was investigating the murder of Kayla Macintyre.
“I heard. So sad.” He shook his head. “We were supposed to have a blind date that night, but she stood me up. I waited for a half hour.” Troy’s cheeks blazed an angry red, as if he was unaccustomed to women dismissing him. “She didn’t show.”
“Because she was murdered.”
Silence fell between them.
“Where did you go after you realized she was a no-show?”
“Home. Do I need a lawyer?”
Interesting leap in reasoning. Megan assessed his strong, callused fingers and his toned body. “If you have something to hide and don’t want to answer my questions . . .”
“No. We’re good.” He flashed a smile. “ I’m not guilty.”
