Jaine Austen Mystery: Killing Cupid Part 21

Wonderful news, Lambchop! It looks like I won't have to tunnel my way into Stinky Pinkus's townhouse, after all. Lydia's throwing a party and has invited the neighbors for a slide show presentation of The Gasbag's recent trip to Nepal. What a snore fest that's going to be. But luckily, I won't be around to see it. When they dim the lights, I plan to sneak out and conduct a thorough search of the premises.

Somewhere in that den of iniquity I know I'll find your mother's diamond ring. I just hope I get there before The Evil Axis has sold it on the black market.

Love 'n' snuggles from

Your Crime-fighting,

Daddy

To: Jausten

From: Shoptillyoudrop

Subject: Come to His Senses

Lydia's just called. She's invited us over to see slides from Lester's recent trip to Nepal. (That man has led such an interesting life!) I thought for sure Daddy would make a big fuss about going. But on the contrary, he seems quite enthused. Says he's always wanted to learn more about Nepal. He even apologized for his accusations against Lydia and Lester. Says he was wrong to think they'd stolen my ring, that he jumped to a foolish conclusion.

Thank heavens, he's come to his senses.

XOXO,.

Mom

To: Jausten

From: DaddyO

Dearest Lambchop-Did I tell you my Belgian Army Knife comes with a miniature crowbar? Perfect for jimmying open Stinky Pinkus's locked drawers!

Chapter 18.

I barely slept a wink that night, tossing and turning and dreaming I was being chased by a squirrel with a machete.

The next morning I woke up drenched in sweat, Prozac clawing at my chest for her breakfast.

With a pained moan, I staggered to the kitchen.

"I'm a fool to be worried about going to jail, aren't I, Pro?" I asked, desperate for rea.s.surance.

She looked up at me with big green eyes that could mean only one thing.

Minced Mackerel Guts again? How come I never get any steak tartare?

Somehow I managed to force down my own breakfast. I was so nervous, I could barely finish my second cinnamon raisin bagel.

Checking my e-mails, I shuddered to read about Daddy's plan to "search the premises" of Lydia Pinkus's town house. But I couldn't waste time worrying about Daddy. Not with Detective Adam's Apple on his way over.

Desperate to make a good impression, I dressed with care, choosing fresh-from-the-cleaners khaki pants, brown suede boots, and a simple black silk pullover sweater.

Then I blew out my mop of curls and slapped on some makeup, checking every few minutes to make sure I hadn't forgotten to put on my pants.

I still had about fifteen minutes till my nine a.m. appointment, so I wisely used the time to straighten my apartment, hoping that neatness counted when it came to avoiding homicide arrests.

I was just clearing my breakfast dishes from the dining room table when tragedy struck. The knife I'd use to spread strawberry jam on my cinnamon raisin bagels-slick from the b.u.t.ter I'd also slathered on-suddenly slipped from my fingers. I watched in horror as it landed smack dab on my fresh-from-the-cleaners khaki pants. Oh, foo. Now I had a big red blob on my khaki crotch!

Das.h.i.+ng to the kitchen, I immediately started dabbing out the stain with water from the sink.

The good news is the stain came out in no time.

The bad news is that my big red blob was now a big wet blob.

Just as I was about to race to the bedroom to change, there was a knock on my door.

Oh, h.e.l.l. It had to be Detective Adam's Apple.

I stood frozen in panic, debating whether or not to keep him waiting while I changed pants.

Another knock.

"Ms. Austen?" It was Adam's Apple's voice, all right. "Are you there?"

Dammit. I couldn't leave him standing outside. I just hoped he wouldn't notice a stain the size of Rhode Island on my crotch.

Reluctantly I opened the door.

"Detective Adam's ... I mean, Detective Willis. Come in, won't you?"

"Thanks," he said, his eyes riveted on the wet spot on my pants.

So much for him not noticing.

"Excuse my pants. I just had a little accident."

"Really? You know, there's medication you can take for that."

"No, I meant an accident in the kitchen. I spilled some jam on my pants. And I was was.h.i.+ng the stain out. This is just water!" I hastened to a.s.sure him.

At which point, Prozac came sashaying over to join us.

She does stuff like this all the time.

"Look who's here!" he cried, sweeping her up in his arms.

Prozac proceeded to purr like a buzz saw.

I like this one so much better than Old Denture Breath.

"Excuse me," I said, taking advantage of their love-fest, "while I change into something a little drier."

I scooted off to the bedroom to slip on some elastic waist jeans. By the time I got back, Prozac had draped herself across Detective Adam's Apple like a Vegas lap dancer. I almost expected to see a twenty-dollar bill tucked under her collar.

"Why don't you leave the nice man alone?" I said, swooping her off his lap.

She wasted no time shooting me a filthy look.

Party p.o.o.per.

"Well," Detective Adam's Apple said, brus.h.i.+ng cat hairs from his slacks, "I guess I'd better tell you why I'm here."

I held up a palm to stop him.

"I know why you're here, and I want to tell you you're wrong. I had nothing whatsoever to do with Joy Amoroso's death."

"But, Ms. Austen-"

"And I can't understand why you're focusing on me when there are so many more viable suspects out there."

And before you could say Benedict Arnold, I was ratting out anyone I could think of. I told him how Joy had been threatening to turn Tonio over to the authorities, and how I was almost certain she had been blackmailing Greg. How Aunt Faith had hated Joy's guts and how Travis had stolen her dating database the minute she was dead. And finally, I told him about Alyce Winters's diabetes syringe and how she could have used it to poison Joy's chocolate.

"Any one of those people could have killed Joy," I said when I'd finally run out of steam. "So why are you here questioning me?"

"Actually I'm not here about the murder."

"You're not?"

Hallelujah! I was a free woman!

"No, I came on a private matter."

"A private matter?"

"Yes. Of a ... social nature."

Omigosh. He was actually blus.h.i.+ng. Was it possible he was interested in me?

Up until that point, I'd viewed Detective Adam's Apple solely as a potential jailer. But now I took a closer look at him. In addition to that prominent Adam's apple of his, he had rather appealing brown eyes and a sweet dimple on his left cheek. And even though his dark hair was cropped close, I could see it was thick and s.h.i.+ny.

All in all, he was a bit of a cutie pie.

Maybe he was interested in me. Wouldn't it be something if we started dating and got married and some day we wound up telling our grandchildren the story of how I thought he was coming to arrest me when all along he just wanted to ask me out?

And before I knew it, I was shouting, "Yes!"

"Yes what?" he asked.

Oh, h.e.l.l. I'd gotten so caught up in my daydream, I'd said yes before he'd even popped the question.

"I meant, 'Yes! I'm so happy you're not here to question me about the murder.' " Then, with an eager smile, I asked, "So what's this private matter you wanted to discuss?"

He cleared his throat, clearly a tad nervous.

Aw, how cute. I felt like patting his hand and telling him he had nothing to worry about, that I just happened to be free for the next 267 Sat.u.r.day nights.