Part 21 (2/2)

”Thanks,” he said, his eyes riveted on the wet spot on my pants.

So much for him not noticing.

”Excuse my pants. I just had a little accident.”

”Really? You know, there's medication you can take for that.”

”No, I meant an accident in the kitchen. I spilled some jam on my pants. And I was was.h.i.+ng the stain out. This is just water!” I hastened to a.s.sure him.

At which point, Prozac came sashaying over to join us.

She does stuff like this all the time.

”Look who's here!” he cried, sweeping her up in his arms.

Prozac proceeded to purr like a buzz saw.

I like this one so much better than Old Denture Breath.

”Excuse me,” I said, taking advantage of their love-fest, ”while I change into something a little drier.”

I scooted off to the bedroom to slip on some elastic waist jeans. By the time I got back, Prozac had draped herself across Detective Adam's Apple like a Vegas lap dancer. I almost expected to see a twenty-dollar bill tucked under her collar.

”Why don't you leave the nice man alone?” I said, swooping her off his lap.

She wasted no time shooting me a filthy look.

Party p.o.o.per.

”Well,” Detective Adam's Apple said, brus.h.i.+ng cat hairs from his slacks, ”I guess I'd better tell you why I'm here.”

I held up a palm to stop him.

”I know why you're here, and I want to tell you you're wrong. I had nothing whatsoever to do with Joy Amoroso's death.”

”But, Ms. Austen-”

”And I can't understand why you're focusing on me when there are so many more viable suspects out there.”

And before you could say Benedict Arnold, I was ratting out anyone I could think of. I told him how Joy had been threatening to turn Tonio over to the authorities, and how I was almost certain she had been blackmailing Greg. How Aunt Faith had hated Joy's guts and how Travis had stolen her dating database the minute she was dead. And finally, I told him about Alyce Winters's diabetes syringe and how she could have used it to poison Joy's chocolate.

”Any one of those people could have killed Joy,” I said when I'd finally run out of steam. ”So why are you here questioning me?”

”Actually I'm not here about the murder.”

”You're not?”

Hallelujah! I was a free woman!

”No, I came on a private matter.”

”A private matter?”

”Yes. Of a ... social nature.”

Omigosh. He was actually blus.h.i.+ng. Was it possible he was interested in me?

Up until that point, I'd viewed Detective Adam's Apple solely as a potential jailer. But now I took a closer look at him. In addition to that prominent Adam's apple of his, he had rather appealing brown eyes and a sweet dimple on his left cheek. And even though his dark hair was cropped close, I could see it was thick and s.h.i.+ny.

All in all, he was a bit of a cutie pie.

Maybe he was interested in me. Wouldn't it be something if we started dating and got married and some day we wound up telling our grandchildren the story of how I thought he was coming to arrest me when all along he just wanted to ask me out?

And before I knew it, I was shouting, ”Yes!”

”Yes what?” he asked.

Oh, h.e.l.l. I'd gotten so caught up in my daydream, I'd said yes before he'd even popped the question.

”I meant, 'Yes! I'm so happy you're not here to question me about the murder.' ” Then, with an eager smile, I asked, ”So what's this private matter you wanted to discuss?”

He cleared his throat, clearly a tad nervous.

Aw, how cute. I felt like patting his hand and telling him he had nothing to worry about, that I just happened to be free for the next 267 Sat.u.r.day nights.

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