Mint Chip Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 6 Read Online Free PDF Page B

his
knees, gaze directed at the floor.  His classic “thinking” pose.  She waited
for him to speak.  In a moment, he looked up, and his eyes met hers.  “You’re
not a professional,” he said.  “If you get involved with a murder
investigation, it could compromise the perceived purity of the evidence and the
impartiality of the investigation.”
     
    “What?  I wouldn’t compromise any
evidence.”
     
    “You wouldn’t mean to,” Ryan said. 
“But a good defense attorney could look at the fact that you’re my girlfriend,
and I knew you were investigating.  He could claim that I was encouraging you
to act in an official police capacity, which would get me in a lot of trouble. 
He could also claim that witnesses’ testimony was improperly influenced or even
improperly gained because you don’t know what you’re doing.”
     
    “So what am I supposed to do if I’m
talking to somebody, and the topic of the case comes up?  Just stop talking
about it?”
     
    “Ideally, yes,” Ryan said.  “If the
person has any information, that is.  You could tell him or her to come to me
directly.  I know what I need, and I know how to ask questions in a way that
will stand up in court.”
     
    Heather dropped her gaze.  “I’m
sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to compromise anything.”
    Ryan’s finger beneath her chin raised
her eyes back to his.  “The most important reason I don’t want you involved is
because I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.  “It’s not court; it’s you.  I
don’t want the murderer to come after you, too.”
     
    ***
     
    So how was your date last night?
Heather texted Amy.  Did you get your hair done?
    But instead of pinging with an
incoming text, the phone began to play “Here Comes the Sun.”  Heather picked it
up.  “Hello?”
     
    “No, I did not get my hair done before
the date, and it’s a good thing,” Amy said.  “Otherwise, Chris would have run
away and never looked back.”
     
    “What do you mean?” Heather asked. 
She chose a spot in the parking lot of Wal-Mart, pulled in, and put the car in
park so she could sit and finish the conversation.
     
    “I mean that I got my hair done this
morning,” Amy said.  “Your girl wasn’t available, so I picked another salon. 
Nice looking little place in a building full of boutique-y type shops.”  She
paused, and then said dramatically, “Now, I’m ready to be Medusa for
Halloween.  No, wait.  I don’t have that much hair left.  Maybe Demi Moore.  In
her bald phase.”
     
    “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
Heather asked hopefully.
     
    “Come see it,” Amy said.  “I’m at
home.  I’ll be staying here until my hair grows out enough that I can get it
cut right and show my face in public again.” 
     
    The line went dead, and Heather looked
at the screen.  Amy had hung up.
     
    There was only one thing a best friend
could do.  Wal-Mart would have to wait.  Heather backed out of the space and
drove toward the exit.
     
    ***
     
    “Come in!” Amy shouted.
     
    Heather turned the knob, opened the
door, and let herself into Amy’s house.  But she didn’t see any sign of her
friend.  “Amy, where are you?” she called out.
     
    “I’m hiding,” Amy said.  “Now promise me
you won’t laugh or make jokes.”
     
    “Okay,” Heather said, stopping in the
middle of Amy’s living room.  “I won’t laugh or make jokes, no matter how bad
it is, scout’s honor.”
     
    Slowly, Amy stepped around the corner
from the hallway into the living room.  She wore jeans and a t-shirt.  Her
light brown hair was cut in a short shag, the ends curled up and away from her
face.  Heather’s mouth dropped open.
     
    “Is it that bad?” Amy asked, raising a
hand to her head.  She sounded perilously close to tears.
     
    “Bad?” Heather squeaked.  “Are you
kidding?  You look gorgeous!”
     
    “You can tell me the truth,” Amy
sniffled.  “I can take