“You’re not well,” she murmured.
“Yeah, lady. Really.”
“I’ll be with you in a sec.”
Macguire nodded without interest. He stopped in front of a rack of magazines. Amy slipped over to the shelves, where she seemed to know exactly what the Earring King wanted. I watched her hand him a large cellophane bag filled with lots of small cellophane bags, each of which was crammed with multicolored capsules. I could imagine Frances Markasian’s loud headline: COP’S WIFE ARRESTED IN HEALTH STORE DRUG BUST.
The Earring King glared at me. “What’re you staring at, woman?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. My mouth had gone dry.
“Edgar, you need to transform that anger,” Amy gently reprimanded the man. “It’s blocking you.”
Emanating hostility that showed no sign of being transformed, Edgar slap
