Valentine's Day is Killing 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. “Weari...ng 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 vacuums 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?”MoreLess
“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. “Weari...ng 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 vacuums 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?”MoreLess
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