I would just have to save those questions for someone else. Maybe—hopefully—Paulie himself.
After I’d closed my notebook, I decided to take a detour on my way to my car. If Paulie officiated these games, then surely he was here and available for questions. And if he was here, maybe his Jeep was, too. If it wasn’t…well, then that would beg some more questions, wouldn’t it?
The lower lot was empty—the youth football crowd kept all their tailgating to the upper lot—and there was nothing left of the crime scene. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting—police tape, a Coach Farley-shaped chalk line drawn on the pavement, discarded rubber gloves—but there was nothing left. Had there been grill and headlight bits on the pavement around the coach that night that I hadn’t seen? Had they been in the coach? I shuddered. I was all for murder stories, but I couldn’t make myself think about the more gruesome details—not when it happened so close by.
If Paulie was at the youth football game, he wasn’t parked in the lower lot.
I stood on the little hill, scanning the upper lot for round headlights until I found the Jeep. Actually, I found four. All parked in a cluster, making it that much harder to identify which one might belong to Paulie. Since when did everyone start driving Jeeps?
I headed for the upper lot, pulling out my notebook once again. There was a chance that Paulie would clam up as soon as I started asking hard questions—most people did—so I had to be ready to dive in as soon as I saw him.
Someone stepped out from between two sedans and knocked into me. The notebook flung out of my hand and slid under a car.
“Oof, so sorry.” The person turned and reached out to keep me from reeling to the ground. When I got steadied, I found myself leaning into the arms of Officer Hopkins.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, quickly straightening to put some distance between us. “You again?”
“We do seem to be running into each other an awful lot,” he said in a friendly voice. “Such a small world.”
And an even smaller town. I cocked my head to the right and planted my hands on my hips. “You expect me to believe that this was just another serendipitous meeting? In a parking lot at a youth football game?”
His feigned innocence was so transparent, it was like he didn’t even try to make it seem realistic. “I don’t follow.”
“Actually, yes, you do. You follow me everywhere.”
“It’s Parkwood, Miss Bisbee. We’re all in the same places all the time.”
“Yet I never laid eyes on you before Friday afternoon.” My voice cracked on the word eyes. Infuriating. Also, his eyes were very, very blue. I could have seen clouds float by in his very blue eyes and I wouldn’t have been surprised. Trace’s eyes had been dark and brooding in that Artist Who Sees the World for What It Truly Is sort of way…and why was I thinking about Trace’s eyes right now? And why was I noticing the blue in this deputy’s eyes? I needed to stop thinking about eyes altogether.
He shrugged. “I guess we have similar schedules.”
I shook my head, disgusted. “Unbelievable. Literally. Don’t quit your day job for a career in acting.” I started to go past him, but he moved to block my way again. I sidestepped, and so did he.
He chuckled. “Want to dance?”
I gave him my best No, I Don’t Want to Do Anything But Solve This Murder look, but the amused expression never left him. Also, I wondered if he was a good dancer. Someone who was as good at jogging as he was could probably hold his own on a dance floor. “My car is that way.” I pointed past him toward the Jeeps.
“No, it’s not.” He pointed in the other direction, which was indeed where my car was parked. “Good thing you ran into me, huh? You would have been searching for your car in the wrong part of the lot.” He raised his eyebrows and his eyes—unbelievably—darkened to an even more intense shade of blue.
“I…” But I trailed off, when I could no longer think of an excuse that would have me traveling in the exact opposite direction of my car.
“You were just headed home,” he said, very matter-of-factly. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Miss Bisbee.”
“I have no doubt,” I said drily. I turned on my heel and walked to my car, then sat inside to wait for him to leave; he simply crossed his arms, leaned back against the hood of his cruiser, and watched me. When it became embarrassingly obvious that he wasn’t going anywhere until I did, I left. He was following me on purpose. I knew that much. What I wasn’t so sure of was why. Was he intentionally trying to get in my way so I stayed out of the case and out of Chief Henderson’s hair?
Or was he following me because he liked me? Or was it a combination of both? And why did that thought make me smile just a little?
I drove home with a goofy grin on my face, the window cracked to let in the scent of cut grass and cool fall air with a hint of fire pit. I waved to people I knew as I passed them. I told myself I was smiling because if Chief Henderson had to send a babysitter after me, I must have been on the right track.
When I realized that I’d forgotten my dropped notepad and came back for it later that night, the upper lot was free of cars.
And my notepad was missing, too.
Chapter 10
“Welcome to the Knock ’em Dead podcast,” I said.
“Where murder and muffins meet!” Daisy said, holding up a gorgeous platter of dessert. “Or, in today’s case, tarts! But they are not
