Dying for a Date (16 page)

The detective removed his mask, leaving his thick chestnut hair in total disarray. His hair looked like it was aching to be ruffled. Or maybe I was aching to ruffle it. My heart was beating louder than a bongo drum.

Was I the only person feeling a frenzy of pheromones floating in the air?

He stepped close just as the doorbell rang. Never had trick-or-treaters been so unwelcome. I grudgingly opened the door and mimicked a clown's squeaky voice. My shrill soprano sounded more like Truman Capote than a clown but the kids didn't seem to mind. I plopped a candy bar in each of the children's bags. The front door was almost shut when I felt something brush against my ankle. An orange, black, and white blur streaked out the small opening.

"No!” I dropped the candy on the floor and attempted to run after Pumpkin. And no, it is not possible to run across a lawn in two-foot long shoes. I managed three steps before my right shoe caught in one of the sprinkler heads along the edge of the sidewalk. I flew over the large azalea bush next to the sidewalk and landed a perfect face plant in the middle of my crabgrass-filled lawn.

Detective Hunter knelt down. “Laurel, are you okay? Do you think you've broken any bones? Try moving your foot. Just a little, not too much. Lie still. Don't sit up too fast."

The nonstop litany of medical commands confused me so I chose to ignore all of them. I sat up slowly then leaned over to examine my shoeless right foot. My left foot was still encumbered by its floppy mate. My foot didn't hurt too much although my brain felt foggy.

Now why was I running?

"Pumpkin!” I grabbed the detective's arm as I attempted to stand up.

"You want a pumpkin?” A worried frown creased his forehead. “I think you have a concussion. You need to stay still.” He helped me back into a sitting position.

"Pumpkin's our kitten. That's the blur of fur I was chasing. Do you see a cat anywhere?” The sensation of something sticky caressing my right hand got my attention. It didn't look like the phantom was drooling on my digits so I glanced down to find the kitten licking my fingers.

The detective stared at Pumpkin with a confused look. “There's an unusual looking creature attached to your hand."

"Yep, that's Pumpkin. The kids surprised me with it last weekend. She's been a bundle of entertainment ever since."

"Um, she's the most unusual looking cat I've ever seen,” he tactfully replied.

Since I wasn't in the mood to discuss Pumpkin's redeeming qualities, or lack thereof, I grabbed her and attempted to get up as gracefully as I could manage. My right knee buckled and I collapsed back on the lawn. Hunter dropped down beside me. “Is it your knee? Your ankle? Hamstring?"

It looked like the detective's interrogation skills also extended into the medical arena. I held up my palm. “Slow down. Let me try to walk and we'll see what happens."

He held on to Pumpkin with one hand, keeping his other arm wrapped around my waist as I limped up the sidewalk. Once inside the house, he locked the door and the kitten scurried off. I hobbled halfway across the living room before I stumbled on a small piece of candy that must have fallen out of one of the boy's bags.

Once again I found myself hanging on to my rescuer. I was about to thank him when I noticed that his eyes had a peculiar look in them. It almost looked like, like—lust? My heart pumped faster as he leaned toward me. I moved closer as well. My head swam with desire and I could feel my chest getting wetter and wetter.

Huh?

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Advice to single clowns everywhere. Never wear a water-squirting plastic flower if there is any chance you may be kissed by a hunky detective. And never attempt a kiss on Halloween, I thought, as the doorbell clamored yet again.

The detective strode into the foyer and yanked the door open.

Kristy's voice rang out. “What happened to your shirt, Dad?” Her question was followed by the familiar refrain of my children. “Hey, Mom, where are you?"

Two of the sugar infused miniature super heroes blasted into the room. “How come you're only wearing one shoe?” asked my pint size Spiderman.

"I fell down on the front lawn and hurt my knee chasing your kitten.” I looked accusingly at the probable offender. “Someone forgot to close the door to the laundry room."

"Is Pumpkin okay? Did you find her?” Tears formed in Ben's eyes. Such a sensitive child. Maybe someday, he would feel the same compassion for his poor old mother.

"Hey, Mrs. McKay, your shirt's all wet. Did you guys have a water fight?"

When did Jimmy become so observant?

"I was demonstrating my plastic flower on Detective Hunter and we both got wet.” I quickly changed the subject. “Are you having fun, Kristy?"

"Yeah, it's been a blast. You guys ready to go back out?"

All three of the kids ran out of the house while Jenna lingered behind.

"Thanks for taking care of the kids, honey.” I put my arm around her shoulder as I leaned against one of the chairs. “Are you sure Kristy is having a good time?"

Jenna smirked. “Oh, she's having a great time, although maybe not as good as the two of you.” She pointed her finger in the direction of my sopping wet shirt then sauntered out after the younger kids.

Tom closed the front door behind them then turned to me with a pensive look on his face. “We need to talk,” he said abruptly. “Let's sit on the sofa."

Although the thought of sitting together on the sofa hinted at romance, the serious tone of his voice did not. He offered his arm and I hung on while I limped to the sofa and eased into the lumpy cushions. The detective grabbed a blue-fringed throw pillow and propped my leg up on the coffee table before he settled on the opposite side of the sofa.

"I better get rid of this stupid plastic flower before I douse you again.” Was that subtle enough?

"Good idea. Although by the time I'm done with my explanation you may want to do something worse than soak me."

I settled into the cushions. It didn't sound like any canoodling was on his agenda. Tom was quiet for a few seconds, his index finger tracing one of the blue flowers decorating the arm of the sofa. I waited patiently. This sounded like an important discussion, a discussion that could impact me forever.

"Laurel, I haven't been in a relationship since my wife passed away. My entire existence revolves around my daughter, my parents and my job. Right now I don't have time for anyone else in my life. But the first time I saw you running to your son's rescue, racing across that soccer field in those silly blue shoes..."

"My turquoise mules aren't silly,” I interrupted, “they're..."

He reached across the sofa and stopped my babbling, placing a finger on my lips. “Let me finish. Despite our hostile introduction on the soccer field, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. And not just as a murder suspect."

He took my palm in his and stroked his thumb along my wrist. I could feel a throbbing in my body. And it wasn't my knee.

"You're the first woman I've been attracted to since my wife died. You also are the primary suspect in two murder inquiries. Do you realize what an enormous conflict of interest this is for me?"

The touch of his thumb was short-circuiting all the fuses in my body including my brain, but I still grasped what he was saying.

Tom grimaced. “I've talked to folks who have known you for a long time, like Ben's second grade teacher, your pastor, neighbors. I told the sheriff that everyone I've interviewed says you're a great mother and all around wonderful person. I keep hoping the favorable things I've discovered will persuade him you're innocent of either murder."

Tom had been interviewing people like my pastor? And my neighbors? I tried to digest his words but they were giving me a serious case of indigestion.

"You've been talking to my friends...about me. Without telling me first?” I yanked my hand from his grip and tried to rise. Unfortunately, I had to bend my knee in order to remove it from the top of the coffee table.

"Ouch,” I whimpered as I slipped back into the cushions. Tom slid across the sofa and tried to help me.

Forget it, buddy. I struggled to get up. Detectives must be prepared to deal with criminals who resist arrest, but I doubt Tom's normal method of subduing them is to kiss them. I didn't know what his original intent was but I responded like a woman who hadn't been in a lip lock in over three years. The kiss was hot. It was so...hot. My body had never tingled this way from just a kiss.

Or was it a hot flash?

I pulled back abruptly and glanced at him. His face mirrored the surprised look on mine.

My senses were reeling but Tom's disclosure that he was investigating me behind my back ticked me off. I pushed him away and he slid back to his end of the sofa.

"I'm sorry,” he said, “that never should have happened."

"You're darn right.” My face was flushed and my body felt like a volcano about to explode.

Tom chuckled suddenly and I glared at him. “You might want to wipe the lipstick smudges off your face before your children come home and notice,” he said, his lips curving in a smile. A smile rimmed with red lipstick. I dug into the pocket of my baggy shorts and pulled out a gigantic red and white striped hankie. Clowns are always prepared. The incriminating lipstick was removed from both of our lips seconds before the kids burst through the door, their bags overflowing with candy.

Tom stood up and checked out each of the kids’ booty. He pretended to sneak a piece of candy out of Kristy's bag. I remained seated, still stewing over his disclosure. He squatted down next to me, resting his hand on my injured knee. “Laurel, you should see a doctor tomorrow. You may need to be on crutches."

I folded my arms over my chest. “I don't need a...” my voice trailed off as my brain leapt a few steps ahead. Hmmm. There was a doctor I'd wanted to visit. And now I had the perfect excuse.

Since I continued to glower at him, Tom astutely figured out he had overstayed his welcome. He told Kristy to gather up her stuff. She grabbed her loot, thanked Jenna and me, and waved goodbye to the boys. Her father followed her out the door with a brief troubled glance at the gimpy murder suspect sulking on her sofa.

The boys probably would have stayed up all night exchanging goodies but Ben's crabby, injured mother was ready for bed. I found that if I dragged my left leg and didn't bend my knee it wasn't too painful to walk up the steps. I hoped I wouldn't need crutches. Crutches and a kitten could be a lethal combination.

After removing my smeared makeup, I put on my red puppy dog pajamas. I briefly wondered what Tom Hunter would think of my attire. If he could kiss me in clown makeup, imagine how turned on he would be by my flannel jammies.

The numbers gleaming on my alarm clock announced it was a quarter past ten. A little late, but Liz has always been a night owl. I dialed her number and listened to it ring eight times before the answering machine kicked in. She picked up just as I started to leave a message.

"Laurel, do you know what time it is?” She didn't sound thrilled to hear from her best friend. Had I interrupted some X-rated activity?

"Sorry to call so late but I need your help. I injured my leg tonight and I wondered if you could drive me to the doctor tomorrow?"

"Of course, but what happened?"

"It's a long story. I'll give you the details tomorrow."

"Call me at the office in the morning after you've made an appointment with Dr. Templeton."

Dr. Templeton is a terrific family doctor who practices in Placerville. With years of klutziness behind me, I've visited his office so many times I could have earned frequent patient points. But I had other plans.

"There's a new doctor I want to try. I'm going to call Dr. Slater's office and see if his partner can take a look at it. Then we can chat about Jeremy."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"It can't hurt to try a new doctor, someone younger than Dr. Templeton, in case my injury is a complicated one. Please don't say anything to Brian."

"Fine. I'm too tired to argue with you right now. Ring me when you want to be picked up.” I winced as the phone slammed in my ear. Liz was beginning to sound a lot like my mother.

Another sleepless night followed, either due to the stimulus of the detective, the pain shooting out from my left knee every time I rolled over, or the extra caffeine from all of the candy bars I scarfed down for dinner.

By morning the throbbing ache had eased somewhat but there was no way I was going to miss an opportunity to meet Jeremy's partner. I dropped both kids at the bus stop and at nine on the dot called Dr. Radovich's office. I explained to the receptionist that I was a friend of Dr. Slater's and I wished to switch doctors since my own family physician would be retiring shortly. This was an emergency since I could barely walk. She kept putting me on hold in order to answer other incoming calls but finally agreed to squeeze me in at noon, probably so she could get me off the phone and get on with her other calls.

That gave me the morning to skim through the last two days of newspapers. Fortunately the
Mountain Democrat
focused on the upcoming election. A tiny article about Jeremy's demise was located on the back page. Politics trumped murder.

Liz picked me up promptly at eleven thirty and I wiggled into her impractical but cute red Miata. At least my small car was roomy enough for a
pleasingly plump
woman.

Yes, Jeremy's quote still rankled.

We headed down the hill to Jeremy's medical practice in El Dorado Hills. I could tell by her demeanor that Liz wasn't thrilled about spending her lunch hour sitting in a doctor's waiting room. I promised to treat her to the fast food restaurant of her choice. As we drove to the office, I briefed her on her part of the investigation. Her initial response was somewhat less enthusiastic than I'd hoped.

"Are you out of your bloody mind? Brian will kill me or worse—he might break off our engagement if he finds out I'm mixed up in a case he might end up prosecuting. Did you suffer brain damage from your fall?"