Page 55 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
Threat detected!Fish snarls, her tail puffed up like a bottle brush.
Engaging battle stance!Chip chirps.Remember to target soft tissue!
Before claws fly or my pen becomes a weapon, a deep voice cuts through the air like a superhero cue. “Let go of her.Now. You’re not carrying her off anywhere.”
Both Clyde and I look up to find Detective Dexter Drake standing over our table, all nine-foot-three inches of him of no-nonsense hot lawman in jeans and a badge and a glare that could cut granite. He might as well be backlit by justice.
After a moment of stony silence, Dexter’s expression softens as he glances at me. “Unless, of course, you want himto take you away.”
“Not even in a body bag,” I mutter, yanking my wrist free from Clyde’s now loosened grip.
Clyde stands slowly, visibly recalculating his approach. He straightens his designer shirt with a motion that’s supposed to suggest dignity, but mostly conveys the desperation of a man realizing he’s outmatched in both height, looks, and authority.
“We’re not finished here, Josie,” he informs me with what he probably thinks is commanding finality. “You’ll be sorry.”
With that parting shot, he stalks away, managing to clip his hip on a giant storybook display in his hasty exit.
I hope it hurt, but not enough to sue the park.
Dexter watches him go, his posture only relaxing once Clyde is out of sight. “That sounded like a threat.”
“He’s harmless.” I wave dismissively, though internally I’m still processing Clyde’s uncharacteristic forcefulness. “All talk, no follow-through—which, incidentally, was also the problem with our marriage.”
Dexter’s lips twitch with a sexy yet suppressed smile. “Still, threatening to physically remove someone from their workplace crosses several lines.”
“What can I help you with, Detective?” I ask, eager to change the subject. “Don’t tell me you’re here to ride the Gingerbread Express.”
“I’ll take a rain check,” he replies. “I was actually on my way to the Fairy Tale Feast restaurant. I traced Wallis Fulton there. Care to join me for a bite?”
Date number two,Fish mewls with clear approval.The courtship proceeds according to schedule.
Food AND an investigation?Chip squeaks.The perfect combination! Like tuna and mayonnaise! And pickles! Lots and lots of pickles!I live for this. But after we finish our duty as cutest furry hosts on the planet.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say, gathering my notes and standing.
And for the record, it sounds a lot like a date to me, too.
Dexter leads the way. My heart does a thing. The cats take off to finish their shift as the most sought-after mascots in the world. And somewhere, justice is sharpening its glittery knife.
I’m about to have a little alone time with the good detective—and maybe a killer.
Let the next chapter of my life begin.
CHAPTER 20
“Ican’t believe you’re actually letting me tag along on your investigation,” I tell Detective Drake as we approach the imposing stone façade of the Fairy Tale Feast restaurant. “Isn’t there some police handbook rule against civilians meddling in murder cases? Like chapter three—Don’t Let the Crazy Lady Who Found the Body Help Solve the Crime?”
Dexter’s smile does unfair things to his already unfairly handsome face. “I’m not letting you tag along. This is a totally normal lunch between two people coincidentally surrounded by murder.”
“Right. And these recent events just happen to include a corpse in my funhouse and a very specific seating request near our prime suspect.” I gesture toward the restaurant. “Very casual.”
“I’m merely being thorough,” he counters, holding the door open. “And for the record, I’m not officially inviting you into my investigation.”
“Of course not. That would be unprofessional.” I step past him into the restaurant. “Just like I’m not officially investigating anything either. I’m simply a concerned park manager having lunch with the local law enforcement. Totally normal activity.”
“Exactly.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “And if you happen to have insights about the people involved that might be relevant to your non-investigation...”
“Then I’d be remiss not to share them during our completely coincidental meal together.”
