Valentine's Day Is Killing Me Read online

“Ho-ho. I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

  “Because we’re in lurrrrrrrrv?”

  Because she couldn’t stand the thought of him in that grungy cell when she knew to her bones he was innocent. Because she wanted him to like her. Because she’d lost her fucking mind. Because his shirt was off.

  Yep, he was standing there in his dark slacks and his shoes, but his bloody shirt had been taken as, she assumed, Exhibit A. His chest was exceedingly distracting: wide shoulders, a light fur of hair running between his nipples and down into his pants, flat stomach, nipples the size of quarters. Christ!

  Focus focus focus.

  “Have him back here at 1:00 P.M. tomorrow, Miss About.”

  Whew! Something to focus on besides Scott’s nipples. “That’s ‘Aboot’,” she corrected the lady detective, whose name, she had since learned, was Hobbes.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  “Aw,” Scott said, rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had recently been removed. “I think it’s cute.”

  “Shut your nipples, Scott.”

  “What?”

  “Mouth. Shut your mouth.” Oh, God, I didn’t just say that, did I? “So, Detective Hobbes, you were saying—back here tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Yes. And you were telling him to shut his—”

  “Never mind. He’ll be here. Guaranteed.”

  “Yes, I know,” Hobbes said cheerfully, scooping up the ream of paperwork Julie Kay had just signed. “It’s not like we can’t track you down.”

  “So that’s it? I can really leave?”

  “As I said earlier, we don’t have enough to hold you overnight. But we’ll be chatting with you again tomorrow.” Yes, the lady was weirdly cheerful for a murder cop. Maybe it came from being a redhead? “And between now and then we’ll be conducting a number of interviews.”

  “You’re thinking, if I have a super-secret motive, you’ll find it.”

  The smile slipped off Hobbes’s face. “Yes. That’s what I’m thinking.”

  There was an awkward silence, and then Julie Kay tentatively touched Scott’s bare shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “So, should I get a cab or do you mind giving me a lift back to my—”

  “I promised your lawyer and the cops that I’d vouch for you showing up tomorrow.”

  “Great. So—”

  “So, you’re staying at my place.”

  “We are in lurrrrrrrv!” he said delightedly.

  “Shut up.”

  “Seriously, Julie Kay, thanks. You’re a girl in a million.”

  “I haven’t been a girl in twenty years, and shut up.”

  “I mean, most girls would have fled screaming into the night, not gone to the jail with me and got me released and promised to haul me back the next day.”

  “Most girls are smarter than me.”

  “Not hardly.”

  “Well, thanks, but there’s got to be an explanation.” Besides his yummy nipples. “I think I have a fever,” she muttered, unlocking her car. Then, “Aren’t you freezing? You look…uh, cold.”

  “Well, I am, a little. But it seemed kind of lame to complain. What’s being cold compared to being dead?”

  She rummaged around in her backseat and found another cardigan. He shrugged into it without complaint. It wouldn’t button—he was too broad—so he just held it as closed as he could.

  “Home, Jeeves,” he mock-ordered, and she almost shuddered. She really had lost her mind. How was she ever going to explain all of this?

  “You just better not be guilty, you perky-nippled son of a bitch.”

  “Have no fear. Drive on.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Well, this is it.” She tossed her keys on the kitchen counter. “Home sweet hell.”

  “It’s nice,” he commented, glancing around the small house she rented from her brother-in-law. “I used to live in Inver, back when I was a student at the U.”

  “Yeah, what, six weeks ago?”

  “Oh, you’re hilarious.”

  “I hate apartments. I always feel like a bee in a hive. So when my brother-in-law moved into a bigger place, he let me rent this one. It’s worked out for everyone.”

  “Mmm.” He was prowling around the living room and dining area like a big, brunet panther. “I have an apartment, and I know what you mean. But I’m almost never there.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Work, usually. That’s why I was really glad when you decided to go out with me. I mean, I have no social life.”

  “But you’re so…” Gorgeous. Delicious. Fabulous. Tall. “…smart.”

  He shrugged. “I was always the tallest kid in my class, and the skinniest. But I was bad at sports. So who’d want to go out with a big gork like me?”

  Oh, I dunno, anyone with half a brain?

  “Uh, let me see if I can find something better than my old cardigan.” She turned to go into her bedroom, but he came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her around.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s the least of my problems, believe me. What the hell am I going to do about that poor guy at the restaurant?”

  “Uh…well, I…uh…” Blue eyes were filling her world, her universe. They were getting closer and closer. There was nothing else: no house, no living room, no cardigan, no dead guy.

  She felt his lips on hers and put her arms around him—she could hardly reach, his shoulders were so broad. Her mouth opened beneath his and his tongue touched hers, tentatively and then with more assurance, licking her teeth and nibbling her lower lip. She pulled, and the cardigan was on the floor, and her hands were running across his fine chest, and…

  (dead guy, dead guy!)…she yanked herself away. “Stop that! This is totally inappropriate!”

  “Hey, you kissed me.”

  “I did not!” Oh, wait. Maybe she did. “Well, it doesn’t matter. This isn’t the time or place.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t kiss you. Although, I have to say,” he added cheerfully, “I’ve been dying to all night. But you’re right, this isn’t the right time. Bad sweetie.”

  “Oh, like you were really fighting it!”

  “It seemed rude to give you the brush-off,” he said, sounding wounded. “You know, me being a guest in your home and all.”

  “Well, never mind that. Let’s stay focused. Put your sweater back on.”

  “I didn’t take it off,” he grumbled, but did as she asked.

  “Let’s figure this out. We have to be back there in fourteen hours. So, if you didn’t kill the guy—”

  “Charley Ferrin.”

  She gasped. “You know him?”

  “No, no.” He held his hands up, palm out. “Calm down, don’t have a coronary.”

  “I’ll have one if I damn well please!”

  “It’s not like that. Detective Hobbes told me his name. I swear, I have no idea who he is. The name meant nothing to me.”

  “Okay, okay.” She forced herself to calm down. He was right, this was no time to burst a blood vessel. “So, if you didn’t do it, who did? Who had a motive and could do it quick, and avoid the cops, and stick you with a murder charge?”

  “Honey, I got nothin’. I’ve been trying to figure it out all night. I was minding my own business, waiting for you, and the next thing I know, I’m wearing handcuffs. And not in a good way.”

  She felt the blood rush to her face as she pictured him cuffed to her headboard. “All right. Did you overhear any arguments? See anybody fighting? Anything weird at all?”

  “No.”

  “Come on. There must be something.”

  He shook his head. “No. And no, and no. I told the cops all this already.”

  “Well, now tell me,” she snapped.

  “Don’t boss me!”

  “I’ll boss you if I like! If it wasn’t for me you’d still be rotting in jail!”

  “The hell. My lawyer would have vouch
ed for me.”

  “Yeah, I could tell what a great job he did by the way it took him hours and hours to not show up.”

  “Listen—mmph!”

  She had kissed him again. What was wrong with her?

  “Not that I mind,” he gasped, extricating himself from her grip, “but, again, don’t you think this is a little inappropriate? Given the circumstances?”

  She got up to pace. “Of course it’s inappropriate—it’s nine kinds of inappropriate! What the hell is wrong with me?”

  He opened his mouth, but she beat him to the punch. “I’ll tell you, it’s this fucking holiday! It’s killing me! It’s making me act in ways I would never normally act! God, I hate it, I hate it, I hate Valentine’s Day!”

  “Take it easy,” he said, and rose to cuddle her in his arms. Sulkily, she allowed it. “You’ve had a tough day.”

  “A terrible day.”

  “Yes, just awful. You poor baby.”

  “I never should have said yes when you asked me out. I like being single!”

  “Aw, come on,” he said to the top of her head. “And miss all this excitement?”

  “Mmph.” Her chin was resting in the middle of his chest and it was wonderful, thank you very much. They swayed together in her small living room, dancing slowly to unheard music. He was rubbing her back and she could feel his breath on the top of her—

  On the top of her head.

  She jerked out of his embrace. “You’re really tall.”

  “Six-five. But it’s not, you know, contagious or anything. Here, come back for another snuggle.”

  She resisted the snuggle command. “But the stains on your shirt…they were on your shoulder!”

  He blinked. “Well, yeah. I think I got blood on me when I leaned down to roll the guy over, see if he was okay.”

  “But—think about this. If you’d stabbed him with your shrimp fork, don’t you think—”

  “The blood would be lower, given where he was stabbed, and where the stains were.” His eyes widened. “Holy shit! And to think I hated being tall when I was a kid! It’s just saved my ass!”

  “We’ve got to tell Hobbes! They should be looking for someone shorter, not trying to pin it on you! And you know that’s what they’ll be doing…if they have a suspect, they try to make the puzzle fit around that suspect. They won’t be looking for a new guy.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “TV,” she said. “Lots and lots of TV.” She lunged for her cell phone, which beeped at her the moment she had it in her hand. She flipped it open and said, “Not now.”

  “But whodunit?” her sister asked breathlessly. “I’ve been waiting hours for you to call.”

  “We don’t know.”

  “‘We’?”

  “But we know Scott didn’t do it.”

  “But didn’t you know that before?”

  “Yes, but now we really, really know.”

  “Is he there? Is he with you? What’s he like? Is he nice? He’s nice, isn’t he?”

  “He’s fine. Look—”

  “Will you go out with him again?”

  “One thing at a time,” she said. “First I’ve got to clear him.”

  “You’ve got to clear him?”

  “Long story. I have to go.”

  “Wait! When—”

  She disconnected the call, then stopped. “What do I do? Do I dial 9-1-1 and ask for Detective Hobbes?”

  “I think we better go back down to the station.”

  “But what if they arrest you again?”

  He slapped his forehead. “Duh, we call my lawyer and tell him what we’ve figured out.”

  “Oh.” She felt exquisitely stupid. “Right, of course.”

  “Don’t feel bad,” he said, correctly reading her expression. “It’s different when it’s real life.”

  “I’ll say.”

  Chapter Ten

  “You have the worst lawyer in the world.”

  “He’s my dad’s tax attorney,” Scott explained apologetically.

  “What! He didn’t refer you to a criminal lawyer?”

  “I don’t think there was time.”

  “There would have been if you’d called him before asking to see me.”

  “Hey, the Minneapolis cops are really laid back. They didn’t care how many phone calls I made.”

  “Okay, okay. Let’s think about this. Your lawyer’s not reachable. We’re not keen on going back to the station—”

  “Well, even if they arrest me again, once we tell them the new info, they won’t hold me very long. Hell, even without the new info they didn’t hold me very long.”

  “Yeah, but why take a chance? I know!” She seized her keys, then grabbed his hand and galloped out of the house. “Hobbes is probably at the restaurant, questioning everybody with her partner!”

  “Oh, great. Back to the scene of the crime. Isn’t that rule number one of things not to do when you’re the chief suspect?”

  “No, rule number one is get a lawyer who answers his phone. Come on.”

  “You know, I think you’re really sweet.”

  “Shut up.”

  “And I totally get off on that grumpy exterior.”

  “It’s not an exterior—it goes all the way down.”

  “The hell.” He squirmed, trying to get comfortable in her bucket seat, and finally gave up. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t be breaking speed records to get back to the restaurant, not to mention all the other stuff you’ve done for me.”

  “Scott, can we do this another time?”

  “Well, no, because once you clear me, our date will be over and you probably won’t go out with me again.”

  She snorted. “Probably?”

  “You’re hung up on the age thing.”

  “Other than working for a shitty greeting card company, name one thing we have in common.”

  “Well, we both like your cardigans.”

  “Scott, be serious.”

  “And we both like the way you kiss.”

  “Scott.”

  “And we both like to right wrongs, and play amateur detective. And we both like the collected works of Stephen King.”

  “How did you—oh. The bookshelf in my living room.”

  “Plus,” he continued happily, “it’s a huge turn-on, the way you can’t keep your hands off me.”

  “That’s because it’s a weird night—don’t let it go to your nipples. I mean, your head.”

  “Which one?” he asked innocently, and she scowled and smacked him on the leg.

  “Finally,” she muttered, seeing the sign for Tables of Content. With the ambulance gone, it looked a little less frightening, though there were still quite a few cars on the street. “Shit. No parking places.”

  “Park illegally. You are looking for a cop, right?”

  “Oh. Good idea.” She double-parked beside a nondescript sedan she hoped was an unmarked police car, and shut off the engine. “Okay, let’s go find Hobbes and remind her that you’re tall.”

  “Good plan, Holmes!”

  “Shut up.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Excuse me,” she said to the man in the dark suit. He was short, coming up to her shoulders, but impeccably dressed, although the red rose in his lapel was looking a little bedraggled. He was as smooth and bald as an egg, with dirt-colored eyes. “Are you the manager?”

  “Yes, but I’m afraid the kitchen is closed. If you’d like to make a reservation, I can—”

  “No, we’re looking for Detective Hobbes.”

  “Who?”

  “You know. The cop. About this tall…” Julie Kay held her hand up about an inch above her eyebrows. “Wearing a green, two-piece suit? Red hair, gun, badge? Weirdly cheerful?”

  “I’m sorry, miss, there’s no one here by that name.”

  Scott had been looking around the restaurant, where there wasn’t a trace of crime-scene tape or fingerprint powder anywhere. But there were several people running vacuu
ms and setting tables. “Uh, dude, I don’t think you’re supposed to clean up this fast.”

  “Clean up?”

  “You’re messing with a murder scene. And where did all the cops go?”

  “What murder scene?”

  Julie Kay gaped at the manager. She was totally at a loss. “You could go to jail! Interfering with a crime scene, or whatever it’s called!”

  “Miss, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you and your gentleman friend don’t leave right now, I’m going to be forced to call the police.”

  “Great! Good! Call them! I’ll call them! What are you doing? You can’t cover this up! Stop cleaning up,” she shouted at the other workers.

  “What’s the problem?” Scott asked the manager, who had broken out into a light sweat. The lights made his forehead gleam like a star. “Afraid of getting a bad Zagat’s review?”

  “Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “But it’ll be in the papers. Reporters check on this stuff all the time. You can’t cover it up.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said again.

  “You’re full of shit,” Julie Kay told him.

  “Atta girl. You should watch out,” Scott told the manager. “She’s got a mean side.”

  “You’re standing there, all ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’, and meanwhile, you’ve got a look on your face like you just bit into a rotten lime. So why don’t you cut the shit?”

  “Miss, do you want to make a reservation or not?”

  “Did you do it? Is that why you’re erasing evidence and pretending nothing happened? Did you kill—uh—” She looked at Scott.

  “Charley Ferrin.”

  “Yeah, him. Did you do it?”

  “We won’t tell anyone,” Scott assured him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, please leave.”

  “Like hell!” she shouted.

  “Okay,” Scott said, and grabbed her by the elbow.

  “Wha—? Scott! This guy’s dirty! He knows something! He—mmph!”

  This time he had kissed her. And, interestingly, was dragging her out of the restaurant at the same time. When he pulled his mouth away, he said cheerfully over her shoulder, “Young love and all that. Sorry to waste your time.”