Valentine's Day Is Killing Me Read Free Page B

one.”
    “Oh. Well, no offense, but I don’t believe in that stuff.”
    “Me neither.”
    “That’s enough, sir. You’re coming with us now,” the lady detective said, kindly enough.
    “Oh, okay. Well, it was nice to meet you in person.”
    “Thanks,” she said through numb lips.
    “Sorry about all this,” he added, gesturing with his shoulders to the crime scene.
    “Me, too.” She sat down before she fell down.

Chapter Six
     
     
    “At least he didn’t stand you up,” her sister said comfortingly.
    “For Christ’s sake, will you try to focus!” Julie Kay hissed into her cell phone. She slammed on her brakes so she wouldn’t hit the unmarked car in front of her. Her date had enough problems without being put in traction as well. “I have a big fucking problem here, and I’d like you to help me .”
    “Sweetie, I’m a homemaker, not Matlock. What do you want me to do?”
    “Can I go off and leave him?” she asked anxiously. “It’s not like we have this deep, meaningful relationship.”
    “He said he didn’t do it, right?”
    “Yeah, but I’m not Matlock, either. If he’s innocent, the cops or the D.A. will figure it out. Right?”
    “Riiiight,” her sister said doubtfully.
    “So what’s my date responsibility here?”
    “It’s a new one on me,” her sister admitted. “I’m just glad he turned out to be alive.”
    “Yeah,” she said, taking a left on Hiawatha, “there’s that.”
    “So, that’s an improvement, right? Especially if he’s telling the truth about not killing—who’d he supposedly kill?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Well, I hate to go all Miss Marple on you…”
    “Let me talk to him first. If they’ll let me, I guess. Man, oh man,” she muttered. “And I thought Valentine’s Day was killing me …”
    “That’ll learn you. Silver lining behind every cloud, and all that.”
    “You’ve been super-helpful. And by that I mean, of course, you have not been remotely helpful, and I’m hanging up now.”
    “Call me back!” her sister begged. “Tell me whodunit!”
    Like I’m going to have a clue myself, she thought, and slapped the phone closed.

Chapter Seven
     
     
    “Well,” her date said cheerfully. “This is awkward.”
    “It’s not funny, Scott.”
    “I’m with you, but it’s either try to make a joke out of it or burst into unmanly tears, and I’m trying to make a good impression on you.”
    “It’s a little late for that,” she pointed out.
    “Thanks for coming to the station.”
    “Mmmm.”
    It was an evening of firsts: she was standing outside a holding cell, which Scott had all to himself. Getting in to see him had been relatively simple, once she’d signed about six reams of paperwork. It had certainly gone better than her last annual review.
    “So, what? What happens next?”
    “Well, I called my dad and he’s sending a lawyer down to try to get me out of here…”
    “You haven’t seen a lawyer yet? You saw me but not your attorney?”
    “What can I say. That black cardigan makes my heart go trippity-trip.”
    She yanked the cardigan closed. “Scott, this is serious.”
    “I know. You can tell because, the more serious it is, the more dumb jokes I’ll be cracking.”
    “How old are you?” she asked suspiciously.
    “If you’ll take a peek at my rap sheet, you’ll see I’m a doddering twenty-four.”
    “Well, even if this murder thing wasn’t hanging over our heads, I could tell you this never would have worked. I’ve got almost ten years on you.”
    “So? You speak your mind and you’ve got an ass that won’t quit. That’s really all I require in a woman.”
    “Scott, I’m not sure you’re getting exactly what’s going on here…”
    “Sure I am. Somebody killed our waiter while I was in the men’s. I fell over the body and got blood all over me.” He gestured to his dark shirt which, Julie Kay now noticed, had a dark stain on the upper left shoulder.
    “You fell on the dead guy?”
    “Yeah,