“There’s been an arrest?” Marge asked. “Who is it?”

  I filled them in on what Alex told me.

  “That’s impossible,” Celeste said.

  “No way did she do it,” Marge agreed.

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” I said. “It was too loud in the bingo hall for me to get a lot of details from Alex. He did say he found a gun in her apartment that could have been the one used to kill Gossard.”

  “That figures.” McMillan snorted. “It was the girlfriend with no morals all along.”

  “We don’t know that for sure yet,” I said.

  Celeste sighed. “This is a surprising turn of events.” She looked back at McMillan. “By Alex she means Detective Spencer, whom you’ve met.”

  “That I got,” McMillan said. “I wonder when that fool or his cohorts will get around to tell me this news,” he said with a frown. “A man has to hire his own detectives just to stay informed about the killing and the mayhem in his own backyard. I pay that man’s salary with my taxes! He should remember that.”

  We rode awhile in thoughtful silence before a playful smile moved across the old man’s face. He turned to me. “What exactly is going on between you and Detective Spencer?”

  I could feel my face go red. “I’m sorry…what?”

  He laughed. “People think an old man has no idea about what’s going on around him. I’ve still got eyes and ears. I’m old, but I’m not dead. I saw how cozy you two looked the night we found the body. And you’re calling him by his first name, and obviously there’s contact between you two.”

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, well…we are…kind of an item.”

  McMillan slapped his thigh and let out a honk of a laugh. “The detective and the private eye, now that’s a hoot.”

  “Thanks, I guess?” I smiled at him.

  “I’m sorry to speak ill of your boyfriend there, Miss Cooper, but you should keep your man in line,” he continued. “He should do a better job.”

  “Yeah, good luck telling him that, Charlie.” Marge laughed.

  “He’s very good at his job,” I told McMillan. “You just don’t see that now.” I did not want to have this conversation with this man.

  Apparently, Marge did. “We’re so excited for our Charlie,” she said with a smile. “We think she and Alex make the perfect couple.”

  “You make sure he treats you right,” McMillan said. “You hold out for the right one, not just for any bozo.”

  Wow. I almost got the feeling he cared.

  “So many bozos,” Marge said, “which is exactly why I’m single. What I wouldn’t give for a man to look at me just once like Alex looks at Charlie, but for now, I have three kittens to watch out for. Have I told you I have kittens?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” McMillan sighed. “I tend to tune you out when you prattle on.” He looked at me in sympathy. “Is that one ever quiet?”

  I laughed. “I’m afraid not.”

  “About our case,” Celeste said, changing the subject. “I’m proposing staying on the case until things are sorted out to our satisfaction. I want to keep an eye on how this all plays out. Plus we still need to determine how your property fits into the whole scenario.”

  “There’s certainly still work to do,” he said, “and I want you on the case as well. I want to know for sure if this adulterous floozy pulled the trigger on the scoundrel she was seeing.”

  Poor Tiffany. I hoped she and McMillan would never meet face-to-face. As for Gossard…I really didn’t have any sympathy for the names McMillan called him.

  We dropped off our client at his house. He got out of the car, thanked us again for a wonderful evening, and waved at us as we drove away.

  “He really had fun, didn’t he?” Celeste asked.

  I turned and watched McMillan open his front door. “He really did.” I thought about how he’s in his house now, all alone, and my heart sank. “I think it’s good we went out with him. And you know what? I think we had fun too.” I turned to Marge and grinned. “Except for the fight.”

  Marge waived that thought away. “That old biddy is lucky I didn’t pull The Persuader on her. I’m just bummed I didn’t win.”

  We arrived at my parents' house, and Marge parked at the curb.

  “Wanna try calling Alex again?” Celeste suggested.

  “I’m dying to know more,” Marge said.

  He picked up right away. This time the background noise was buzzing on his end. “Hey, Charlie, it’s crazy at the station now,” he said. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

  “Breakfast at Jack’s?” I asked. “You can at least buy a girl some pancakes since you bailed out on our dinner.”

  He laughed. “It’s a deal. Does eight thirty sound okay?”

  “See you then,” I said.

  I hung up and told Marge and Celeste about my date with Alex the next day.

  “In that case, let’s all meet at the office around noon.” Celeste smoothed back her hair. “Charlie can give us her report, and then we can decide where we’ll go from there.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Marge said.

  They both drove away, and I was happy to be crashing into bed soon. I said a quick hello to my parents in the living room, who had a movie on. I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and found Brad in the kitchen, staring at the contents of the fridge.

  “Charlie!” He looked alarmed. “Ch…Ch…”

  “Yes, it’s me, your sister.” I studied my brother closely as he slowly backed away. “What is up with you?” I asked.

  I took a gulp of water as he looked around the kitchen wildly. “Did Marge come in with you?” he asked.

  And then it hit me: he was scared of Marge! In his upstairs hideaway, he fought aliens and monsters and who knew what kinds of villains, but in real life, he was a wuss. That yellow naked lady couldn’t be zapped away with his remote control. She must still haunt his dreams.

  I couldn’t hold the laughter in, causing me to half choke on my water, and making a big splash. I found a kitchen towel and dabbed off my top and jeans.

  “You know,” I teased, “she was asking about you. She’s getting something from the car. I’m sure she’ll be right in.”

  “Um…I’ve got to go,” he said, rushing toward the steps.

  “Kidding! I’m just kidding,” I called out when I could catch my breath. “She already drove off. You’re safe from Marge.”

  I shook my head and went upstairs into my room. My top was still damp and my throat a little sore, but it was totally worth it.

  ***

  The next day at Jack’s, I was sipping coffee at a booth by the window when Alex strode in and flashed me a warm smile. All my curiosity about the events of the night before drained right out of me. I didn’t care about the gun they’d found at Tiffany’s; I just wanted him to get here and sit down close to me.

  He leaned in to gently kiss my cheek and slid into the booth to face me. That gorgeous smile still hadn’t left his face. We had to be careful, though, but it was my father’s day off, so we could let our guard down just a little. How lame it was at my age to hide a boyfriend from my parents, but this was special, me and him. I wanted to protect this from my meddling mother for just a little longer. That one kiss on the cheek would have her staying up all night to build a Pinterest board on wedding centerpieces.

  The waitress came to pour more coffee and take our breakfast orders.

  Alex watched me tenderly then reached out to take my hand. “Charlie, I’m so sorry I don’t have enough time for us right now. Things have been crazy. I think about you, though.” He looked deep into my eyes. “I think about you all the time.”

  “Same with me,” I whispered.

  He squeezed my hand, and we sat in blissful silence for a while. “I get it,” I said. “I get your job. I guess that’s one advantage of us doing the same work. I know you can’t help it. It’s just that…well, it’s just that I miss you. I miss you a lot.” I ran my thumb along his finger, and he took my hand and kissed it.

  His voice was gentle as he told me, “I can’t wait for this thing to be over and to have some time for us.” His wink was filled with a promise that I would hold on to. I would think about that wink when I closed my eyes that night.

  Our food got there quickly, and we dug right in.

  “So, where were you last night?” He dug his fork into his omelet. “It sounded like a wrestling match—with you right in the middle.”

  I took a deep breath and laughed and leaned back against the seat. “You wouldn’t believe it! It was a wrestling match—with Marge right in the middle.”

  He froze with his fork midway to his mouth. “What?”

  “Our client insisted on an update, but it had to be in person and not just at his house around the table like a normal meeting. Oh no! Everything with him has to be...special.”

  Alex looked askance. “Grumpy Man McMillan really took the three of you to a wrestling match? I didn’t even know they had wrestling here in Springston. And Marge was in the middle of the fight?”

  “Well, it wasn’t’ really wrestling. He made us go to bingo at the high school with everybody’s grandma, and then some nutso lady tried to kill Marge with her purse.”

  He looked like he wasn’t sure if I was telling him the truth. “Are you serious?”

  “Trust me, I am.”

  “But why would the nutso lady try to kill Marge?”

  I told him the rest, and we both laughed until we cried. When Alex finally caught his breath, he asked if Marge was hurt.

  “You know Marge.” I shrugged. “I think she’s indestructible.”

  “Too bad nobody thought to call 911. I could have seen it for myself.” He flashed that smile again. “You three are something else.”

  I noticed his hand had become entwined with mine again, and I felt like I was in seventh heaven.

  The phone beside him buzzed, and he looked down and frowned. It was a reminder to us both that his time was limited in the current chaos of the new developments. It was time for me to find out what had gone down at Tiffany’s apartment.

  “Thanks again for giving me a heads-up on the case,” I said. “Do you really think it was Tiffany who killed him?”

  He explained they had learned the victim was embezzling funds from the firm while having an affair with the receptionist. “That means there are a lot of people with a motive in this thing.” He bit into his biscuit. “As for your friend Tiffany, she was aware that her crooked beau was into some shady stuff—although we don’t believe she was privy to the details.” His phone buzzed again. He picked it up and told someone he would be right in. Then he looked at me. “We got lucky that a judge gave us a search warrant to get into her place. We searched the company partners’ homes as well.”

  So that’s where all the lawyers were when we’d tried for our consult on the “nail salon,” but I was still missing something. “I don’t think it was Tiffany.” I picked up my coffee mug.

  He raised an eyebrow as he speared another bite of omelet. “The nine millimeter in the pantry kind of screamed to us the opposite. Who keeps a gun in a box right there in the pantry with the macaroni and the crackers? That could mean she recently stashed the gun away as opposed to putting it somewhere fairly normal—like, say, a bedroom drawer. It matched the kind of weapon that was used to kill the victim, so it’s not looking good for her.”

  I thought back to the young girl, so gobsmacked with grief and yet trying hard to make us comfortable in her tiny little place. “Still, my gut tells me she didn’t do it. As awful as Gossard seemed to be, I think for some outlandish reason, she genuinely loved him.”

  “I’ll admit to a good many unanswered questions here. Ballistics has the gun now, and that will tell us more, but it’s pretty damning evidence. We had to take her in.”

  “Leaving the evidence aside, do you think she did it?” I asked him.

  He studied me. “Honestly, no. In a perfect world, she’s not the killer. But I have to follow the evidence, and I can’t just ignore it. The evidence always leads to the culprit. And like I said, we’re not one hundred percent sure she did it. We’re still checking out some things.” He picked up his mug. “But maybe you shouldn’t be surprised if it turns out she was it. Felons don’t always look like felons, as you’ve come to know. Sometimes they’re weepy and petite and give you cups of tea.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. And she is petite. That’s why she couldn’t have jumped McMillan’s fence like that. That person had to be male. He had the build for it.”

  “I know. I’ve read your statements. Still, the person possessing the gun that could have been the murder weapon gets to be arrested.”

  “What was her response?” I eyed a piece of cheesy sausage in his omelet and helped myself to a bite.

  “She had a meltdown. She swore up and down she was as shocked as we were to see that gun in the box. She said, she had no idea where it even came from. Never ever in her life had she owned a gun; it’s what she said.” He took a sip of coffee. “They’re checking it for prints right now.”

  The sun dipped behind a cloud, and the light left our table. I suddenly felt sad as I gazed down at my plate. “What about an alibi for Tiffany for the night Gossard died?”

  “She claims to have been out with friends at a restaurant here in town. They’re checking that out now. We’re also checking out her place for any signs of a break-in—someone coming in her place to plant that gun like she seemed to indicate.”

  I thought about that for a moment while I dipped a bite of pancake into syrup. “I think the fire escape is next to the window in her living room. That could have been the best way to break into her place on the second floor.”

  “We agree.” He winked. “They’re checking out the window.”

  “If someone was really framing her, they must have known she and Gossard were having an affair. They might have even known about the embezzlement—and that she was aware, at least a little bit, of what was going on with that.” I paused to think again. “Would she have anything to gain from whatever Gossard had planned?” The email we’d read seemed to indicate she might.

  “Possibly,” he said. “We’re looking into that as well.”

  “What about the partners? Right there are some people who would hate the guy. Did you check their alibis?”

  “That’s in the works as well,” he said. “All the partners seemed surprised to hear what he’d been up to, but that could have been an act.”

  The waitress came by and filled our coffee mugs.

  Alex checked his phone again as a text came in. “Things are going on at work. I really shouldn’t linger.” He smiled at me. “Although there’s nothing more I’d wish to do.”

  I squeezed his hand and smiled back at him.

  I wondered what kinds of things precisely were going on at work. I noticed he didn’t say. Something else was on my mind, but I wasn’t sure how to approach the question since the info had come to us in a…not so legal way. I took one last bite of pancake and tried to sound offhanded, like it was no big deal. “There’s something else bothering me. Why did Gossard have a creepy sort of interest in the layout of our client’s house?”

  Alex watched me closely. “I take it you saw the file on the computer in his office.” He rubbed his temples. “I should have known you found that too. Just like the emails between Tiffany and Gossard. That’s the reason you paid her a visit in the first place.” He sighed. “One day you three are going to give me an ulcer.”

  I smiled at him. “Do you want me to quit my job and take up knitting or something similar?”

  “Ha!” he said. “As if. Even then you’d somehow manage to get into trouble.”

  I decided to ignore that. “Have you found anything at all to connect this murder to our client?”

  He winked and sipped his coffee. “Other than the body in his yard?”

  I kicked him beneath the table. “A cop—and a comedian! Aren’t you something special?”

  “I like to think I am.” He smiled. “That’s one puzzle piece that doesn’t seem to fit. I also find it odd that there was no attempt to even try to hide the body.”

  “There could have been a reason they wanted it found right away, although I can’t think why.”

  He signaled for the check. “Since we still don’t know why there was such an interest in the McMillan property, I arranged to have an officer drive by and check the last few nights or so.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. “I hadn’t realized that, and neither did the client.”

  “Yeah, we kept it under wraps so he wouldn’t change his patterns for the sake of the cop. Unfortunately, they plan to pull the cop off McMillan’s street now. I really wish they wouldn’t, but with someone behind bars, they no longer see the need, and I won’t get the funds for that.” He took one more sip of coffee.

  The waitress arrived with the bill, and he pulled out his wallet. “I really should get going.” A smile crossed his face. “Don’t you ever wish we were back in Vegas instead of here in Springston dealing with this mess?”

  “I wish that all the time. That trip was way too short.” I was thinking in particular of one romantic night when things seemed to get more serious between the two of us. I thought it would be the start of something more intense: me and Alex growing closer. Then a gullet wetter, or perhaps a Tony winner, had shot a crooked lawyer in the backyard of the meanest man in Springston, and there was no time for romance.

  Alex walked me outside to my car, and we took our time, enjoying the feel of being close to one another. He opened the car door and I slid in, rolling down the window.

  “This is going to be the best part of my day,” I said. “Thank you for that, Alex.”

  He leaned in to kiss me. When I felt him start to pull away, I caressed his arm to signal that I wasn’t ready for the kiss to stop. When the kiss was finally over, he touched his nose to mine and kissed me softly one more time.

  Just as I was about to moan out loud, a familiar voice trilled out.

  “Well, this is a surprise!”

  It was my mom.

 

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