by Laura Durham
“I wouldn’t say that.” I took a sip of wine. “Our new officiant was a Jewish rabbi who didn’t know it was a gay wedding until the last minute and tried to marry the grooms off to their female attendants. We may have actually held a double wedding. I still can’t be sure.”
Leatrice giggled. “You really do have the most exciting job, dear.”
“I wish it was a little less exciting sometimes,” I admitted. “At this point a desk job in a cubicle doesn’t sound so bad.”
Leatrice tapped her notebook on her leg. “So tell me more about the murder. Do the police think it was a crime of opportunity or passion?”
I set my plate down on the coffee table. I definitely was not going to say Fern knew the victim since I didn’t put it past her to show up on his doorstep with a list of questions. “I really shouldn’t be talking about the case. Anyway, I don’t know much more than you.”
A rap on the door made me jump.
“Who would be visiting you at this time of night?” Leatrice asked, getting up and padding over to the door.
I didn’t point out Leatrice was also visiting me in the middle of the night.
She opened the door a crack before pulling it open all the way. Detective Reese stood in the doorway in the same clothes he’d had on earlier, the gray shirt a bit more rumpled and his dark wavy hair more tousled. He gave me a weary smile over Leatrice’s head.
I felt my pulse quicken.
“We were talking about your latest case, Detective,” Leatrice said, waving him into my apartment with a flourish of her arm.
To his credit, Reese didn’t look surprised by Leatrice’s pajamas or by the fact she knew about the murder. Like me, Reese had learned not to be shocked by anything Leatrice did.
“Did you finish with the paperwork?” I asked when I’d found my voice.
He nodded and stepped inside. “I thought I’d stop by on my way home and make sure you were okay.”
I knew my apartment was nowhere close to the route he took to go home from the police station. I tried not to smile too widely. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
He let out a breath. “I would love one.”
I took my plate to the kitchen while he sat down on the couch. I pulled a second wine goblet down from my cabinets, checked it for dust, and filled it with pinot noir. When I returned to the living room, Leatrice was in full interrogation mode.
“Is this the first time you’ve seen a feather boa used as a murder weapon?” she asked.
I handed Reese his glass and squeezed myself in on the couch between him and Leatrice. He draped one arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him, letting myself relax for the first time all day.
He took a sip of wine. “You know I can’t discuss an active investigation.”
Leatrice’s face fell.
“But I can confirm Annabelle’s crime scenes are always the most interesting ones.”
I twisted around and gave him a look. “Hey! Do you actually talk about ‘Annabelle’s crime scenes’ down at the station?”
He shook his head and laughed. “No. You know I try to keep your name out of it.”
I did know he tried to keep the fact he was dating a former witness/person of interest/suspect on the down low. I met his eyes and saw they’d deepened from hazel to green, and I couldn’t help dropping my own eyes to his lips.
“Would you look at the time?” Leatrice stood up. “Perry Mason starts in a few minutes.”
I turned and felt myself blush as I watched Leatrice open the door. “See you later, Leatrice.”
She winked at me as she pulled the door closed behind her, and I knew Reese had seen it.
He leaned forward as he set his wine glass on the coffee table. “It’s not that I don’t like hanging out with your neighbor . . .” His words trailed off as he nuzzled my neck.
I did my best not to moan out loud. “I’m glad you showed up when you did. Otherwise she might have tried to have a sleepover.”
He laughed as he kissed behind my ear. “That would have been awkward.”
I turned around to face him, and he pulled me so I was sitting on his lap.
He ran his hands up through my hair. “Especially since I was hoping to have a sleepover.”
My heart hammered in my chest as he kissed me deeply, and I let him lower me back onto the couch.
Chapter 7
“Rise and shine!” Kate’s voice pulled me from my sleep, and I pushed myself up, blinking and rubbing my eyes as I looked around my living room. The soft angora throw covering me slipped from my shoulders, and I tried to tug it back up with one hand. From the bright sunlight streaming in my windows and the sounds of traffic from the street below, I could tell it was sometime in the midmorning.
It took me a few seconds to realize my dress was lying on the floor, and I was lifting myself up off Reese’s bare chest. He mumbled something unintelligible and tried to pull me back down.
“We’ve got company,” I whispered to him as Kate fumbled with her key and shoved my front door open.
When I’d given Kate a key to my place, it had been so she could have access to the office to drop things off or pick things up when I was busy. I’d never imagined this scenario. From the look on her face when she spotted me with Reese on the couch, neither had she. She stood unmoving in the doorway in a short Lily Pulitzer sundress, high-heel pink mules, and sunglasses resting on the top of her head. She held keys in one hand and a to-go coffee holder in the other.
“Annabelle!” Her expression of surprise turned to one of delight. “I guess it’s safe to say you’re not ready for brunch.”
I wrapped the pale-green throw around me so only my bra straps showed and sat up all the way, leaving Reese lying on my couch in nothing but his black pants.
He rubbed his eyes. “Is there anyone who doesn’t have a key to your apartment? Aside from me?”
Kate shut the door behind her. “You haven’t given him a key yet? Even Leatrice has one.”
I shot her a look as I ran a hand through my hair. “She’s my neighbor and she made one herself using her home spy kit.”
Reese laughed as he sat up. “It’s okay. I don’t mind knocking, although apparently no one else knows how.”
Kate ogled his well-muscled chest until I cleared my throat pointedly at her. Sorry, she mouthed with a shrug.
“I didn’t expect Annabelle to have company or to forget we’re meeting Richard and Fern for brunch.” She held out the corrugated beverage holder to him and indicated one of the tall paper cups with a lid. “Here. You can have my mocha. You need it more than I do.”
Reese shook his head as he looked around on the floor for his shirt. “I’m fine, but thanks.”
Kate tapped her foot on the floor. “Take it. Consider it a thank you from me.”
Reese narrowed his eyes at her as he wiggled the cup out of the holder. “A thank you for what?”
Kate’s eyes wandered back to Reese’s bare chest and arms, and she sighed. “Just thank you.”
Oh, for the love of God. I rolled my eyes at her and hunted around at my feet until I found his wrinkled gray shirt. “You’d better put this on before you have to file a harassment complaint against my assistant.”
Reese blushed as he slipped on his shirt and began buttoning it.
Kate held the remaining to-go coffee out to me and I took it gratefully, letting the heat warm my fingers. “What time is it anyway?”
“We still have a few minutes. I forgot how little traffic there is on Sunday morning. Plus, I found parking right in front of your building. That never happens in Georgetown. Part of me doesn’t ever want to move my car because I’ll never get such a good space again.”
I took a sip of my mocha and closed my eyes as I swallowed the sweet coffee. “We can take my car if you want. I had to park six blocks away last night.”
Reese frowned as he stood up. “You walked that far by yourself at one o’clock in the morning?”
“You know Saturday
night in Georgetown,” I said. “I did have my emergency kit, though.” I pointed to the heavy metal case still sitting by the door. “One swing and I could take someone out.”
Reese shook his head. “Next time you need to come home late, you call me and I’ll walk you, okay?” He met my eyes and brushed a strand of hair off my face, and I felt my mouth go dry.
He jerked a thumb toward my hallway. “Do you mind if I pop into the bathroom before I head out?”
I shook my head as I found my voice. “It’s all yours.”
Kate watched him walk down the hall and disappear into the bathroom. “I love how he’s so protective and a little forceful.” She pointed to her bare arms. “Look. Goosebumps.”
I ignored her as I stood up, wrapping the throw tighter around me. “If you breathe a word about this to Richard, I’ll kill you.”
Kate flopped onto the overstuffed chair across from the couch. “You don’t need to worry about me. I have no desire to witness a Richard meltdown.”
I walked into my kitchen carrying the two empty wine glasses from the night before with the angora throw trailing behind me. “He wouldn’t melt down, would he?”
“No, you’re right. If he walked in on you partially undressed and lying on top of a hot cop, he might drop dead.”
I thought about disagreeing with Kate but realized she might be right. Richard was not known for his under reactions. I put the wine goblets in the sink and returned to the living room, scooping up my black dress from the floor and stepping into it without dropping the throw.
“You’re wearing yesterday’s dress to brunch?” Kate asked, crossing her legs so her dress rode up even further.
I pulled the dress over my hips and slipped my arms through. “No, but this is slightly less revealing than an open-weave throw. I’ll hop in the shower and change once Reese is done in the bathroom.”
Kate put a hand to her heart. “Whew. I was worried I was going to have to give you the fashion talk again.”
“You mean the one where you tell me I don’t show enough leg or cleavage?” I zipped up the side of the dress and draped the angora blanket over the back of the couch.
Kate snapped her fingers. “That’s the one, but I was going to add a part about wearing too much black and recycling your look.”
Before I could sit back down, there was a knock on the door. I opened the door, fully expecting to see Leatrice. I was wrong.
“I couldn’t wait until the restaurant to talk to you.” Fern rushed into the room, wringing his hands, with Richard behind him. “I’m a wreck.”
For a wreck, he looked quite put together. He wore a sapphire-blue blazer with a yellow-and-blue-striped ascot, a yellow vest, and buff-colored pants. Richard looked equally as stylish in a beige linen suit with pant creases so sharp they looked like they could draw blood. He carried his bulging leather man bag by the handle instead of across his chest.
“What happened?” I asked.
Fern spun around. “What happened? You mean aside from Cher being murdered?”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Kate said, standing up to give him her chair.
“Sit down? Sit down?” His voice rose a few octaves. “I can’t sit down at a time like this.”
“Richard?” I jerked my head toward the couch.
“I can’t sit down, either.” He set his black bag on the couch and waved his hands over his suit. “This suit wrinkles if you breathe on it wrong.” He went over to the wall and leaned against it, keeping his legs completely straight so he looked like a human ramp.
“I thought you told me linen wrinkles were money wrinkles,” I said.
“Normally, yes, but this linen is woven from a special flax plant, and I do not want it creased the first time I wear it.”
“I get it,” Kate said. “It’s like how careful you are with a new car until you get your first ding.”
Richard inhaled sharply. “I hope you aren’t comparing my designer jacket to your Honda.”
His bag rolled onto its side and the flap opened, revealing Richard’s tiny Yorkie, Hermes. Hermes gave a little yip in greeting and ran back and forth on the couch, obviously excited to be out of the bag. I reached down and rubbed his head, and he gave my hand a quick lick.
Kate took one of Fern’s hands in her own as he paced in a small circle. “We’re all upset about Cher, but the police are working hard to find out who killed her.”
“Are they?” He pulled a handkerchief matching his ascot from his inside jacket pocket and dabbed at his eyes.
“Of course they are.” Kate led him to the chair. “But you know it’s the early stages of the investigation. I’m sure we’ll all be interviewed again.”
“Again?” Fern tucked the handkerchief back into his jacket. “Some of us weren’t interviewed a first time.”
“Some of us were passed out drunk during the interviews,” Richard said under his breath.
“What if they don’t find who did it? You know how overworked the DC police department is.” Fern fluttered his hands in the air as he began pacing again. Hermes scampered from one end of the couch to the other, turning at the exact time Fern did each time. “How often have we had to help them solve cases?”
I wasn’t sure if we’d always helped the police or made things harder, but we had been known to uncover clues the cops couldn’t. Mostly because we were willing to skirt the law.
“Promise me, girls.” Fern looked from Kate to me.
“Promise you what?” I asked.
Fern pressed his fingers to his ascot. “We’ll find out who killed Cher even if the police give up.”
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.” I lowered my voice. “And you know I’m not supposed to get mixed up in police investigations anymore.”
Richard crossed his arms and his ruffled shirt cuffs poked out of the sleeves of his jacket. “When has that ever stopped you?” he drawled, unfolding his arms and quickly smoothing out the linen fabric of his jacket where wrinkles had already started to form.
“He has a point,” Kate said.
I tried to signal Kate with a pointed eye roll in the direction of the bathroom and hoped Reese wasn’t able to hear any of this. “You know I promised Detective Reese.”
“What did you do just now?” Fern narrowed his eyes at me then did a double take. “Annabelle, sweetie, are you wearing the same dress you wore yesterday?”
I let out a breath, relieved my fashion ‘don’t’ had distracted him. “I’m not wearing this to brunch. I slipped it on when Kate arrived. I was about to hop in the shower and change when you arrived.”
Richard pushed himself away from the wall and took a few steps toward me, picking a bit of beige carpet lint off my shoulder. “Did you sleep in your clothes?”
Hermes put his front paws on the arm of the sofa, stretching his little black-and-brown head so he could sniff at me. After snuffling at my sleeve for a moment, he yipped.
“Hermes agrees with me,” Richard said. “Something’s up.”
“Traitor,” I mumbled at the dog who grinned at me with his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth.
Kate raised her hand. “I can personally attest to the fact she did not sleep in her clothes.”
Fern studied my face and touched a hand to my hair. “Traces of makeup. Tousled hair. Flushed cheeks.” He tapped a finger to his chin. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you . . .” He shrieked and slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes darting around the room.
“Busted,” Kate said in a singsong voice.
Fern dropped his hands from his mouth, his eyes wide. “Is Detective Hottie here or did he already leave?”
“Is the detective here right now?” Richard asked, his eyes scanning the room as if he expected Reese to pop out from behind the furniture.
I didn’t answer. It was bad enough Kate knew. Fern’s questioning would be unbearable, and Richard’s look of shock was already making me squirm.
“What’s the big deal?” Kate asked Fern
. “I thought you liked Reese. You’re always saying you wouldn’t mind if he frisked you.”
Fern snapped his fingers at Kate. “I wasn’t a witness in a murder case.”
“It’s not like you saw anything,” I said. “The police only want to talk to you because you were at the wedding and you knew Cher.”
“That’s just it, Annabelle.” Fern nibbled on the corner of his lower lip. “I did see something.”
“What?” Kate, Richard, and I said in unison.
“Well, I didn’t see something but I know something. The last time I saw Cher, she told me she was being stalked.”
Kate’s mouth dropped open. “Did she say who was stalking her?”
Fern shook his head. “She didn’t know, but she’d gotten threatening messages.”
I touched Fern’s arm. “You have to tell the police.”
“I know, I know. I was going to go down to the station today, but Richard convinced me not to.”
“I merely said it wouldn’t hurt to wait until after brunch.” Richard said with a sniff. “It isn’t like the police will have done much since last night. And it’s Sunday morning. They probably haven’t even made their first doughnut run.”
“But what if I get in trouble for withholding evidence?” Fern bit his thumbnail. “I should have said something yesterday.”
“You’re right.” Detective Reese’s deep voice made us all jump. He stood where the hall met the kitchen with his arms folded across his chest and his expression serious. “You should have said something.”
Fern shrieked and took off for the door, knocking into Richard, who stumbled before looking down at his suit and crying, “Wrinkles!” as he fell to the floor with a thud. He’d twisted quickly enough to land on the side of one arm, but had rolled just as quickly onto his stomach. He now lay face-down with his arms stiff by his side as he moaned. Hermes leapt off the couch and ran over, alternately licking Richard’s face and yipping.
Kate stared down at Richard’s motionless body and cringed. “That had to hurt.”
I heard Fern’s footsteps as he barreled down the stairs of my building, still shrieking. I looked over at Reese, who was doing a bad job of containing a smirk. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”