Free Evil Eclairs by Jessica Beck Page A

There was a SLIPPERY FLOOR sign there when we walked in, and a mop was leaning up against the wall.”
    “That was still fast thinking on your part.”
    “Save the compliments for later,” Grace said. “You hunt. I’ll keep watch.”
    I wasn’t about to argue. She’d bought me some time, no matter how brief it might be, and I couldn’t squander it. I started looking through the papers on top of the recycling section. A few sheets had Lester’s name on them with his chicken-scratch handwriting, so I scooped them up first.
    Grace hissed, “Hurry.”
    There was no time to be selective. I grabbed everything I could and stuffed it all under my T-shirt. If I held my arms against my stomach, I might get out of there without leaving a paper trail behind me.
    “There’s no leak,” Tim said as soon as he returned.
    “It must have been my imagination. Sorry,” Grace said.
    He looked at me as I clutched my stomach. “You okay?”
    “I think I had a bad egg salad sandwich for lunch today,” I said.
    I could see the displeasure on his face, most likely not from my illness, but from the prospect that he’d be the one who’d have to clean it up.
    I made a small moaning noise, and then I said, “If you don’t mind, we’d better go.”
    He looked downright relieved as I stumbled out clutching my stomach.
    “When did you have egg salad?” Grace asked when we were in the parking lot again.
    “A few weeks ago.”
    “And it’s just bothering you now?”
    “No, but how else could I explain holding my hands against my stomach like I was cramping up?” I lifted one corner of my shirt and showed her the papers I’d managed to sneak out of the building. Maybe something there would give us a clue about who would want Lester dead. No, that wasn’t right. There were plenty of “whos” already. What I really needed was a way to narrow things down.
    I held my T-shirt out and shoved the papers in the backseat of the Jeep. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”
    “You read my mind,” she said.
    We drove away, and I asked, “Where should we go now? We can’t walk into the Boxcar Grill and start digging through those papers; it would be too easy for someone to see what we were up to. The donut shop’s out. I know these were all recycled, but I can’t help feeling they’re trash, and I don’t want them there. If we take them to my house, Momma’s going to want to know what we’re up to, and I don’t want to have that particular conversation, do you?”
    “Let’s take them to my place,” Grace volunteered.
    “It’s our best option, isn’t it? Are you sure you don’t have to get back to work now?”
    “I’ve got a confession to make,” Grace said with a smile. “I get three discretionary days a month as a supervisor, and I’m using them right now, all in a row.”
    “You sure you want to burn them helping me?”
    “Until Johnny Depp comes to his senses and sweeps me off my feet, I can’t think of a better use of my time.”
    I laughed. “You’ve got a pass, then. If Mr. Depp shows up, you’re off the hook, with my blessing.”
    “Whether I have it or not, you can bet that I’m going to take advantage of the opportunity if it ever comes up.”
    “I don’t blame you a bit.”
    We got to Grace’s place and started going through the papers on her broad porch. As we searched for something relevant to our investigation, Grace said softly, “I envy you, Suzanne.”
    I looked up and asked, “Because of my looks, my charm, or my general disposition?”
    She laughed. “All of those, actually, but also because you have Jake in your life. It’s been so long since I’ve dated a decent man I bet I’ve forgotten how.”
    “I’m sure it will come back to you. How long has your dry spell lasted? I bet it’s at least two weeks since you went out with anyone.”
    “That wasn’t a real date. It was dinner with Kyle Farrar, and I nearly fell asleep halfway through the appetizers. That man could bore the