Free Fatal Greed by John W. Mefford

know where you are.” He let out a belly-jiggling chuckle, handed Marisa her license, and walked back to his car.
    We let the police car drive off first. Marisa and I looked at each other, then broke out laughing. We replayed the entire event on the way home, guffawing more hysterically with each recollection. “What would the ticket have said?” I asked. “One count of fooling around?”
    The incident changed the mood, but it reminded us how much of a connection we shared. This might be one experience we recall when we’re up in our years, sitting on the front porch in matching rocking chairs.
    I thought more of us growing old and wondered if two people could spend the rest of their lives together and never actually say vows in front of a minister. I realized I was trying to find middle ground on spending the rest of my life with Marisa.
    She’d shown a great deal of patience with my hesitancy to fully commit. She loved me with all of her heart, and it warmed my soul. But her love wasn’t blind, and it would come with conditions—eventually. Even without her saying the words, I needed to decide—either I’m in it with her all the way, or I’m not.
    While I’d given us certain goals over the last three years, I recognized they were excuses. Now, I had unfinished business to resolve. I had thought the PHC acquisition would take all of my focus and emotional fortitude to get through. That paled in comparison to stumbling across Tiffany’s body.
    Just when I thought I’d be haunted forever, something had touched me when I told my story to the police detectives. My purpose in life had gained unexpected clarity. I couldn’t describe it, but I was convinced somewhere between life and death was a state where Tiffany existed. It manifested itself to me in the alley that day.
    I didn’t know if Tiffany’s murderer was just a drifter who randomly selected her and killed her, then moved on, like one of those serial killers. Or perhaps, it was more of a domestic issue that turned violent. With the Times Herald acting as a mouthpiece for the police department, I wondered if anyone was motivated to find Tiffany’s killer.
     
     
     
     

Chapter Twenty-Three
     
    I awoke with Marisa’s right leg draped over both of my legs, as if she was claiming me as her own. Last night, we arrived at home more tired than energized. We took off our clothes, jumped in bed and held one another, promising whoever awoke first would wake the other in his or her own sensual way.
    I caressed the curve of her hip, running my fingers across her sexy belly, and then up her chest, circling her nipple. She started to move. A slight smile parted her lips, an indication she wanted me to continue.
    I turned on my side, licked her breast, and then slid my tongue across her torso. I moved my hand down the crease at her hip, and slowly, rhythmically massaged the warmest part of her body. Like a jockey steering her horse, she guided me on top of her. I moved my hands to the top of the headboard to gain more leverage. We both groaned and the pace quickened. We screamed at the peak of our excitement. We collapsed, but our bodies remained locked.
    The look in her radiant eyes was pure love. No words were spoken. None needed to be said.
    We lay together for a few minutes. Our heartbeats returned to normal.
    I turned to roll out of bed, and Marisa leaned over to pinch my bottom. I twisted around just as I took my first step onto the slick wooden floor. My foot landed on a stiff shoe, causing me to lose my balance. I put my other foot down, but it landed on a second shoe. I did my best impression of a first-time ice skater, as shoes went flying and I fell straight on my ass.
    Marisa leapt to the side of the bed. “Oh my God, baby, are you okay?”
    She held up the red shoes that had launched me. “Here’s the problem.”
    I leaned up, embarrassed at my awkward landing. Marisa tried to cover her giggle. “No pain, no gain.”
    The first light from the