Valentine's Day Is Killing Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

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