view of the scene. Then he swung the camera to focus on the uniform talking to the bald guy and his wife. They were standing on the small porch, and the sign was right behind the bald guy’s head. I leaned toward the TV, trying to see the writing. Then I saw it wasn’t an address; it was a name. Bullard. Their name was Bullard.
Peter couldn’t understand why I suddenly sounded so happy. “You should seriously think about spending some time with Mason Fields and not hanging out so much with that Dinah. I think she’s a troublemaker.”
And the calls just kept coming. Samuel was next. Thankfully he didn’t hassle me. He was just checking that I got home safely. Got home as opposed to going to jail.
“Morgan was impressed with how cool you were,” he said.
“Morgan’s there?” I asked. Though he hadn’t said it exactly, it was pretty obvious they had some issues. If she was at his place, maybe they were working them out.
Patricia Bradford was next. I went through the details of the story, and then she fired questions. By now, I was pretty tired. It really had been the longest day.
“You didn’t mention Benjamin’s name or that you might be part of the team, did you?”
“Molly, I’m concerned about your judgment. First the whole Byron Nederman encounter and now this.”
I knew I should let it lie, but I couldn’t help it. “You’re the one who told me Byron was gay.”
“I was just trying to circumvent what happened from happening.”
Patricia was taking this Mrs. Politician thing too far. “I wasn’t boyfriend shopping. I know you said you didn’t see the bald man at the Cottage Shoppe the day Drew Brooks was murdered, but he was there and the time before, too. I thought Byron Nederman was him. It doesn’t matter anymore because I found the right bald guy.”
I heard Patricia suck in her breath. “The guy on the news? You think he’s the one who hit Drew on the head? Why?”
“Maybe Drew Brooks tried to cheat him, too,” I said. “That’s why I’d like to talk to him—but under the circumstances it’s going to be tough.”
“I think it’s nice that you want to help Sheila, but you should stay out of it. Leave it to the police. Everybody on the team has to be squeaky clean,” Patricia said before hanging up.
And then there was quiet. I turned off the TV and sat on the couch, worn out from the day and yet wired. It wasn’t every day I had a helicopter hovering over me.
I heard the scratch of a key in the front-door lock. It started to turn, then stopped. Next the phone rang. It was Barry.
“Good move not using the key,” I said. “That’s for dog care only.” I went to the front door and let him in. “Though I still don’t think calling at my door counts as calling first and making arrangements.” I said it before I really got a look at him. Whatever he’d done after he’d left me must have been rough because he looked all done in. His tie was gone and shirt collar open.
“I know. I know I shouldn’t have followed the bald guy home,” I said, beginning his lecture for him, but he held up his hand.
“That’s not why I’m here. It’s about the other night.” He hadn’t sat down and began to pace. “I wasn’t about to say anything when you and Dinah had your hands on the car roof. Remind me later to get back to that.” He ran his hands through his neatly trimmed dark brown hair.
“I can deal with the Hefeweizen, and your sons. I can deal with your inability to commit. I understand you need time and space.” He turned and his eyes flashed. “But I can’t deal with Mason Fields.” His usually calm voice had grown in intensity. “You seemed awfully glad to see him. What’s going on?”
“I was glad to see him because I wanted to ask him about Sheila. She’s been a wreck ever since she realized her fingerprints were on the paperweight that knocked Drew out.”
Barry stopped. “They are? Are you so sure she didn’t do it?”
I made a grrr face. I was getting tired of everybody saying that. “I’m not interested in being some swinging bachelorette. But you have to understand you don’t own me.”
Barry seemed less than happy with that last part. “So what exactly is going on with you and Mason?”
I tried rolling my eyes to show how ridiculous he was being. “Nothing.” There was no reason to mention that Mason kept asking me out to dinner.
Barry stepped closer, lifted my chin and looked at me intently. “So, there is no relationship between you and Mason Fields?”
I hesitated. I wouldn’t call it
“There’s nothing,” I said while Barry watched me intently. Then I got what he was doing. Mr. Cop never turned off.
“You’re doing that thing with the eyes, aren’t you?” I asked. I’d read about something called kinesics in the
Barry caught on to what I was doing. “It’s too late,” he said without a smile. “We detectives are fast. It looked to me like you’re confused.”
“Okay, so maybe there’s not exactly nothing.” Then I felt bad for saying it. “But I haven’t done anything about it, so far.”
Barry glanced around the living room. “Where’s your houseguest?”
“Not here,” I answered. I’d done enough explaining for one night. I stood up as though I was going to walk him to the door, but he stood his ground.
“What’s so hot about Mason?”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Wouldn’t you rather lecture me about not playing detective?” I took a step toward the door but ended up walking right into Barry’s arms.
“I don’t want to talk about anything, either,” he said, holding me close. “I’d rather do something,” he said, tugging at my buttons as he began to kiss me like he meant it.
CHAPTER 17
WHEN I AWOKE, SOMEONE WAS KISSING MY FACE. I thought Barry had stayed over, but when I opened my eyes, I saw that it was Cosmo. He was standing on his short little legs, licking my face as a way to tell me he wanted to go out. Blondie still slept in her chair. She had never wanted to stay on the bed. But Cosmo declared it his spot from his first overnight stay. He slept nestled next to me with his head on my arm. Barry’d had to bribe him with chicken treats to get him out of the room. Barry said it made him feel strange to have an audience. Blondie just stayed in her chair with her paws over her eyes.
I smiled contentedly and hugged the pillow. For a moment I missed feeling Barry’s warmth next to my bare skin, but then I was relieved. I had a lot of things to do, and his presence would have slowed things up.
I showered, got dressed and made coffee. Apparently Morgan had come back during the night because she came into the kitchen, following the aroma. I ground it fresh and the fragrance alone perked me up. There was never a problem getting Morgan to drink coffee, but she passed on my offer of cereal and half-and-half as though I’d just offered her cooties and cream. She had some low-calorie stuff she called cereal—I called it puffed cardboard. Then she added water. Yuck.
An hour later I was heading toward the event area in the bookstore and distressed to see most of the chairs were still there from Romance Night. In my hurry to pursue Mr. Bullard, I’d forgotten all about cleanup. The crocheters must have found the worktable and set it up.
“Dear, even my special makeup wouldn’t have helped you last night,” CeeCee said as I laid my things on the table and pulled out a chair. What with Barry’s special visit, I’d almost forgotten about my appearance on the news. “You certainly lead an interesting life,” CeeCee added. “You always seem to be ending up on the news.”
“It wasn’t planned,” I said. Then I explained that Dinah and I had just been trying to find out who the bald guy was so I could pass along the information to Detective Gilmore.
