Free Dying for a Dude (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 4) by Cindy Sample

supper…”
    Hank joined us in the foyer. “Can I help you, Tom?” Hank’s words were polite, but his tone of voice truculent. Was my ex reluctant to help the Sheriff’s Department? Or was it my detective boyfriend who needled him?
    “We have a few questions for you,” Tom said, “about your relationship with Darius Spencer.”
    “You already know I’m renovating that old hotel of his,” Hank said.
    “Yes, I’m aware of that. It would help our investigation if you could answer some questions that have arisen.”
    I’m not sure what Dear Abby would advise when your boyfriend, the head of homicide, tells your ex-husband he’d like to chat. I tried to remain calm and invited Tom and the deputy to join us in the kitchen.
    Tom shook his head, declining my suggestion. “We need Hank to accompany us to the station. It’s a more appropriate venue.”
    “You’re not arresting me, are you?” Hank yelled. His eyes, which he described as jade green and which I referred to as swamp green, bulged like oversized marbles as they bounced from Tom to Deputy Mengelkoch and back to Tom again. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
    I moved between the two men, resting a palm on Hank’s chest, worried he might feel the urge to punch Tom. My ex didn’t need assault against a police officer added to his other problems.
    Hank’s raised voice must have carried into the kitchen. Ben skidded into the entry, followed by his sister.
    “Are you having dinner with us?” Ben asked the men, his face puzzled.
    Tom’s cheeks reddened. “Not tonight, but thanks for the offer.”
    Jenna, a straight A student, is no slouch in the analytical department. She stared at the four adults, giving an extra long glance at Deputy Mengelkoch. The young deputy was cute, a shaggy-haired, freckle-faced preppie all suited up in his official khaki shirt and forest green slacks.
    “So why are you here?” Jenna asked Tom.
    “They want to talk to your father,” I said, worried Tom would extract a pair of handcuffs at any minute.
    “About Spencer’s murder?” she asked.
    Ben’s eyes grew wide. “Dad, are you going to help Tom solve the case?”
    It was Hank’s turn to flush. “Well, uh…”
    Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out Bradford’s old badge. He plopped it into his father’s hand. “See, you can be an official detective, too!”
    Hank’s eyes watered as he gazed at the badge. “Thanks, son.” He turned to Tom. “Do you want me to go down to the station?”
    “Yes, it will be easier for us to, um…” Tom glanced at Ben, “solve the case if we’re all together at the Sheriff’s Office.”
    I felt my mascara pooling on my cheekbones as my eyes filled with tears. A mixture of emotions assailed me: fear and concern for my ex-husband combined with pride and love for my son. As for my boyfriend, despite my not being thrilled about him taking my children’s father back to the station, I was grateful for his tactful handling of this awkward situation.
    Hank left with Tom and the deputy. At first, I worried they would require him to ride in the backseat of the squad car, but they informed Hank he could follow them to the sheriff’s office.
    My chest flooded with relief at that statement. I reassured the kids the detectives merely wanted their father’s assistance, and my remarks seemed to satisfy both of them. After repeating my mantra to my children, I decided the statement most likely was true. After working with Spencer for several months, Hank might have personal insight into who would have wanted the man dead.
    The home phone rang while I stacked the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
    “Hi, Gran.” I rested the receiver on my shoulder while I rinsed off the rest of the plates.
    “Did you solve this case yet?” she squawked.
    “Case? You mean Darius Spencer’s murder?” I asked.
    “No, not that Spencer twit. Good riddance to political rubbish.”
    “Good grief, Gran. What did you have against him?”
    “Oh, he comes