Dying for a Date (13 page)

"So where's Detective Bradford?"

"He'll be joining us shortly. He was called away to look into another incident. Would you feel more comfortable if we went down to headquarters and you made a formal statement there?"

Headquarters? No, not really.

"No, umm... thank you, this will do just fine. C'mon, Detective, you can't seriously think I'm some type of a Black Widow trying to knock off eligible bachelors? Trust me, there are not enough decent single men in this town as it is. Why would I want to eliminate some great candidates? Garrett wasn't much of a prospect but Jeremy was charming and generous. I think we could have developed a wonderful relationship."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed one blue-jeaned knee over the other as he stared at me.

"Really?” The intensity in his voice was surprising.

I nodded in response. “Absolutely."

Despite the clatter of cups banging against the espresso machine, the silence between us was deafening. These silences were starting to get on my nerves.

"So, what is Kristy wearing for Halloween?” Better to engage in useless drivel than sit in morbid silence.

Hunter's shoulders started shaking and the next thing I knew he was laughing. Aw, he did have a nice smile. Too bad he didn't use those facial muscles more often. “Honestly, if you are a murderer, you are the coolest, smoothest killer I have ever encountered. What is Kristy wearing for Halloween? I wish I knew what to do with you,” he said, still chuckling.

"Well, for starters,” I said, gazing up at him with what I hoped was a look of pure innocence. “You could share your little notebook with me."

"My notebook?” His face wore a blank look. “Did you want to review your drink order?"

"No. I want to know what you've found out. Don't you have notes on the murders in there?"

"Possibly,” said my infuriating companion. He flipped the pages of the aforesaid notebook back and forth.

I forced myself to take a few calming breaths before I barreled on. Lamaze breathing comes in handy. Except for those two times I was in labor. “Okay, let me rephrase my question. Isn't it possible that I, the common thread, as you referred to me a few minutes ago, could assist you in this murder investigation? Besides I seem to be the only link between the two murders."

"Yes indeed. You are the only link,” boomed a voice from behind my back.

Startled, I shot up and knocked my chair over backwards which resulted in Booming Voice spilling hot coffee all over his baggy brown suit. His uncensored remarks sent the barista scurrying to a room in the back of the store.

Detective Hunter attempted to stifle a smile by holding his napkin to his lips. His partner yanked a chair from the table opposite ours. He deposited himself and his nearly empty cup of coffee at our table.

Bradford was even scarier than I remembered. Still tall. Still bald. Still crabby. Detective Hunter retrieved my chair from the floor and indicated I should sit down again.

"So, Ms. McKay,” growled the hulk, “you've managed to get yourself in even more hot water, haven't you? Are you ready to book her, Tom?"

Book her? Wait a minute. There were loans to review, children to pick up from soccer, and Halloween cookies to bake, um...purchase. I didn't have time to be booked. I wasn't certain what booking meant, but it didn't sound like something I wanted on my agenda.

"Ms. McKay has been very cooperative,” said the younger detective.

I have? I looked at him suspiciously. Was this one of those good cop bad cop routines?

Bradford crushed his empty cardboard cup and hurled it at the garbage can. It bounced on the metal rim of the container then smacked the barista right on her pierced nose. She screamed and disappeared into the back room again. It was a good thing there were only two people waiting in line instead of the usual ten. They both graced Detective Bradford with evil looks.

"Detective Bradford, why do you refuse to believe I'm innocent?"

The broken capillaries around his nose turned an unattractive shade of magenta as he scowled at me. “Lady, you had the opportunity and the motive. We just haven't determined the means. But we will."

Huh?

He ticked them off, one meaty digit at a time.

"You had dinner with both men. And no alibi for the time either of them was killed."

Okay, but so what? That didn't prove anything.

"You have a reputation for assaulting men."

"What?” It was my turn to shout.

Hunter nodded as Bradford explained. “One of the people we interviewed said you attacked your ex-husband. You obviously have a problem with your relationships with men."

"I don't have a problem with men,” I said, grinding my teeth together. “I have a problem with idiots. That is not a proper motive."

"All we're missing is the murder weapon,” Bradford said. “Trust me, we will find it."

I stared at both of them. Bradford, the belligerent bulldog looked as pleased as if I had delivered a full confession. Hunter, the brawny bear looked...puzzled. Or could that be concern on his face.

I was frustrated and I was scared and there wasn't enough chocolate in the Starbucks to calm me down at this moment. “Detective Hunter, are we done here?"

He exchanged a look with Tall and Bald.

"Sure. We know where to find you,” Bradford said, his smile even chillier than the temperature outside. “But don't leave town."

I grabbed my purse, slung it over my shoulder and strode out the door. I might as well get back to work and pursue my career options.

At least until they arrested me.

[Back to Table of Contents]

The temperature felt like it had dropped a few degrees so I race-walked back to the office. How could I concentrate on work after this interrogation? I never seriously considered that the sheriff's department would consider me a suspect, but Detective Bradford made me feel like I was number one on his list. Surely there was another suspect or two, or three, out there.

As soon as I reached the office, I stopped in the break room to check out the branch manager posting. Hundreds of rainbow colored flyers were thumb-tacked to the bulletin board. I located the job posting, which was dated over a week ago. Applications would be accepted through the next day. I still had time, but was it worth the effort if I was going to jail?

Stop it. I mentally slapped myself. With two children to support, there was no way I would let those overbearing detectives haul me off to jail without doing something about it first.

After work I stopped at the supermarket and bought a rotisserie chicken, fruit salad and cold broccoli salad. Then I dashed over to the soccer field. Ben was cold, dirty, and sniffling. One of Jenna's friends had given her a ride home, so by the time we arrived, she was curled up in a recliner with Pumpkin perched on her shoulder, gnawing at her auburn strands. There didn't appear to be any new signs of cat-astrophic activity.

I left two more messages for Liz, but she and Brian must not have returned yet. By nine, Ben and Pumpkin were tucked into their respective beds. I was tucked into my own cozy bed, boning up on some detecting techniques in a new book by my favorite mystery author. The phone rang and I shrieked, the book tumbling to the floor. That's what happens when you get too engrossed in murder.

"Hello?"

"Laurel, what's going on? You left five messages on my home phone. Why didn't you call my cell?"

"Oh, Liz. I didn't want to bother you guys on your romantic getaway. But I'm so glad you're back."

"We came home early. The District Attorney called Brian about a new case they've opened up. A doctor who drowned under suspicious circumstances."

Dead silence on each end of the phone.

"Please tell me this wasn't the doctor you had the date with."

"Okay, I won't tell you. But I met with the detectives again today. And according to Bradford, I'm their number one suspect in both murders!"

"Wow. That is a sticky wicket."

Sticky wicket? I'd say being accused of murder was more like being sentenced to the Tower of London, waiting for the axe to fall.

"So what are we going to do?” I asked.

"We? As in the royal WE?"

"If the royal WE means you and I, then yes. I need help and you've got the inside track."

"Of course I'll help. But I'm not sure how much info I can wangle out of Brian."

"Visit Victoria's Secret and pick out something irresistible. Like some black feathered handcuffs."

"That would certainly get Brian's attention. But maybe you're the one who should visit Victoria's Secret. What about this Detective Hunter? Do you think he fancies you at all?"

"Fancies me as a suspect,” I muttered.

"Well, that's the kind of input I may be able to get out of Brian, even without some killer lingerie."

"Back to the topic of killers, what are we going to do about finding this murderer ourselves?"

Her phone clattered to the floor. “Bloody Hell. Are you off your rocker? This is not one of those mysteries you love to read. Neither you nor I are equipped to investigate a murder."

"The sheriff's department considers me the only suspect. How much time and energy do you think they're going to expend finding the actual murderer? Or murderers. They could come and arrest me any day now."

"Oh, sweetie, I wish there was something I could do to help."

I thumped my pillow in frustration. “I mean really, what are the odds that the only two men I met from the Love Club were murdered?"

Bingo. “The Love Club!” we shouted in unison.

"Now that's something we could look into without getting into trouble,” Liz said. “You're still an active member. You could talk to the staff about both men. There must be a connection between them."

"Don't you think the police would have determined if they knew each other?"

"If they think they already know who the killer is they might not waste the time. It's not like they have that big of a detective force up here. You could nose around, discover something they missed."

"I could try."

Liz must have discerned some hesitation in my voice. “Laurel, you were the one who was all fired up to investigate these murders. Now it sounds like you're getting cold feet."

"It's not that. But imagine Sunny's expression when I stop by their office. It was bad enough when she thought I killed Garrett. If she finds out I was with Jeremy the night he drowned she'll probably pass out. For all I know, they've evicted me from the club by now."

"Hey, just because you're a murderer doesn't mean you aren't entitled to meet the man of your dreams."

Liz always knew how to cheer me up.

On that note, we agreed that I would visit the Love Club as soon as possible.

The following morning I woke up at five, long before my alarm was due to go off. The night before I'd been so tired I'd forgotten to complete the job application. I tiptoed down the stairs. The children didn't need to wake up any sooner than they had to. The sound of mewling cries emanated from behind the closed door of the laundry room. I opened the door thinking Pumpkin deserved a break from her jail.

No sign of the kitten anywhere. All of a sudden a ball of fluff flew from the top of one of the cabinets, landed on all fours and skidded across the floor. I jumped back, knocked over my ironing board, which narrowly missed flattening the bundle of fur cowering at my feet.

As if I didn't have enough aggravation. I picked her up, carefully watching out for her small but deadly claws. We went into the kitchen and I sat down at the table. Pumpkin settled on my lap while I filled out the application. That lasted all of five seconds. She jumped on the paperwork, smearing the ink on the line I'd just completed.

Heaven forbid there be a piece of paper in the house unoccupied by the cat. I found some kitty treats, which must have ranked higher than the joys of reclining on my application, because I was able to finish the form without any further interruptions.

As soon as I arrived at the office, I delivered the application to the HR department then wandered into the break room for a cup of coffee. Three creams, two sugars, one squirt of Hershey's chocolate syrup, and my budget version mocha was ready. I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Did you read this morning's newspaper?” Stan asked.

"Uh, no, was there anything important in there?” I peered over my shoulder to make sure no one could overhear us.

He dramatically flourished said paper. “There's an article on the second page of the main section. It says the doctor's death was probably not accidental and the sheriff's department is currently investigating persons of interest. The reporter asked about the mystery woman but the officer said he couldn't reveal anything."

"Whew. I sure don't need that kind of notoriety right now. I'd never get that job if the bank knew I was involved in a murder investigation."

"What job?” Stan's very broad brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Sorry, forgot to tell you. I'm applying for the branch manager position in Cameron Park. You know, the position I held before Ben was born."

"You mean you'd give up all of your wonderful friends at corporate for a measly increase in pay?"

"In a heartbeat, Stanley,” I replied. “I'm tired of making life and death underwriting decisions. I want to work with the public again. You can come out to the branch and annoy me any time you want. Assuming I get it. It's been six years since I held that position. I'm sure they have a lot of eligible candidates."

"Well, my vote's with you, sweetie. Hopefully this situation with your murder victims will be over before the bank ever hears about it."

"Murder victims?"

I whirled around to be confronted by the bank's receptionist. Vivian's pale moon face with its two double chins hovered inches from my face. Although I get along fine with Vivian, I'm always careful when I talk with her. Her speed of transmitting office gossip is on a par with communicating via the Internet. Broadband Internet.

I moved a few feet away from the pale orb of her inquisitive face. “Um, Stan and I are discussing a murder mystery we're both reading."