Free Charmed to death: an Ophelia and Abby mystery by Shirley Damsgaard Page B

the moon. Nope, not quiet at all.
    Abby was right too. My friendship with Darci was a good thing, a very good thing. And I knew no matter how many times Darci promised me to stay out of it, she wouldn't. How in the devil was I going to find Brian's killer and protect her at the same time? The thought scared me.
    Darci reached across the table and lightly touched my hand. "I told you to stop it."
    "Stop what?" I asked, shrugging a shoulder. "I'm just sitting here."
    "Yeah, with a frown plastered on your face." Darci settled back in her chair. "Relax, forget about the runes and the dreams. It'll be okay, really. I've got faith in you. You'll handle the trouble when the time comes."
    She had more confidence than I did, I thought, while my eyes scanned the bar. In the dim light my eyes locked on a man standing near the bar. He looked familiar, wearing a baseball cap and a shirt with the sleeves cut off at the shoulder. Damn, he looked like Harley Walters. Why would Harley be in Iowa City?
    "Darci, is that Harley Walters standing at the bar?"
    Darci spun around in her chair to look. "Where?"
    "Over there," I said, motioning with my head. "Baseball cap, shirt with sleeves cut out."
    She shook her head. "I don't see him."
    I peered around Darci. The man I had seen was gone. Oh well, couldn't have been Harley. He was too busy causing Abby trouble to come to Iowa City.
    "Hey, look at the guy over there. Now, he's cute," Darci said, her eyes widening.
    I looked around the dance floor. "Which guy?"
    "The one with the black hair, red shirt, tight jeans. Ohhh, he's got a great butt too."
    "Dancing with the redhead?"
    "No, not him. The one with the brunette. He has his back to us now."
    Scanning the dance floor, I saw the man Darci was talking about. He had his back to me and I couldn't see his face. Dark hair, wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. And, yes indeed, his butt wasn't bad. Perfect, really. He danced well too. His perfect butt swayed in perfect rhythm with the music. It was a pleasure to watch him.
    His partner thought so too. Her eyes never left his face and she'd toss her hair and smile at him. She danced in close to him and grabbed his waist. Soon her hips were moving with his to the same rhythm.
    "Jeez, why don't they just get a room," I said to Darci. Glancing over at her, I saw her eyes were focused on the couple too.
    "Wow, he is so hot. And she's trying hard to pick him up."
    "The way they're dancing," I said, not taking my eyes off the swaying couple. "I'd say she's succeeded."
    "Umm, I don't know. I don't think so. If you notice, it's her hanging on to him, not the other way around. Watch and see what happens when the song ends."
    When it did, the man took one step back, away from the woman. Maybe Darci was right and they weren't together. He took the woman's arm to escort her off the dance floor, and when he did, he turned.
    No, not again, not twice in the same week! The man was Henry Comacho. Ewww, I'd been having lascivious thoughts about Henry Comacho's butt. I'd be scarred for life.
    "What's wrong with you? You look like you swallowed something sour."
    I reached across the table and grabbed Darci's wrist. "We've got to get out of here. It's Comacho."
    "Who?"
    "Comacho, Henry Comacho. You know, the detective, the one I refer to as the spawn of Satan?"
    "Oh, that Henry Comacho."
    "Yes, and we have to leave before he spots me," I said, ducking my head and slinking down in my chair.
    Darci looked over her shoulder. "Too late—here he comes." She looked back at me. "Sit up straight. Act as if nothing's wrong. It's not like he's going to arrest you."
    "Maybe it would be better if he did. I wouldn't have to talk to him. Jail might not be bad." I felt my eyes glaze over. "Three meals a day, my clothes picked out for me every day…"
    Darci leaned forward and shook my arm. "Shh. You're babbling."
    I clamped my jaws together to stop my runaway tongue.
    "Hi, Ophelia, we meet again. What a coincidence. Haven't seen you