Free Scottsdale Heat: a romantic light-hearted murder mystery (Laura Black Mysteries Book 1) by B A Trimmer

long blonde hair? You were seeing her. She spent the weekend over at your house less than a month after we stopped seeing each other.”
    “So you dumped me and then stalked me?”
    “I didn’t stalk you, Sophie did. You still haven’t said anything about Cynthia.”
    “Cynthia was my rebound after I hadn’t heard from you for like three weeks. And yes, I did spend the weekend with her, but after that I never saw her again.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s really none of your business, but she spent the entire weekend trying to get me to suck her toes. I mean all of them, all at once. I’d wake up and she’d have her foot shoved in my mouth.”
    “Eeeyuuww , gross.”
    “Exactly.”
    “OK, so let me buy you dinner,” I said. “To make up for it. And actually, I wanted to talk to you about business.”
    “I don’t think so. Besides, dinner wouldn’t make up for it. What kind of business?”
    “Cop business.”
    “What kind of cop business?”
    “Like, where would I go to if I wanted to fence some expensive merchandise?” I said.
    “You’re trying to fence something? Your old engagement ring perhaps?”
    “Maybe. Where would I fence it if I just wanted cash and no questions asked?”
    “You could go to a lot of places,” he said. “Did you have anywhere particular in mind?”
    “Maybe at Meyer’s Jewelry or maybe at the art gallery in the lobby of the Tropical Paradise?”
    The phone went silent again. I waited it out.
    “So,” he said. There was an edge to his voice. “You want to tell me what this is about?”
    “Sure, over dinner?”
    “No, not over dinner. Dinner would make it seem like a date.”
    “OK, how about lunch? Frankie Z’s today at 1:00?”
    Again with the sigh. “OK, sure. But I’m going to regret this. Don’t say I won’t, because we both know I will.”
    “You won’t.”
    ~~~~
    Frankie Z’s is a small, family-run, Italian restaurant off Hayden and Via Linda. Reno and I had been there several times before. I suppose if anywhere could be considered as our restaurant, Frankie Z’s was it.
    As I drove closer to the restaurant and thought about seeing Reno again, some long forgotten feelings of excitement began to wake up in the pit of my stomach. I pulled into Frankie’s parking lot at 1:10. Hey, almost on time.
    Walking in the door, the aroma of oregano, baked garlic, and olive oil wrapped around me. I hadn’t been here since I was here with Reno, over a year ago. Walking in the door felt good, sort of like coming home.
    As I walked in, Frankie saw me and greeted me with a warm smile. Frankie Zappitelli is not only the owner, but also the full-time hostess and part-time chef. She is a small, ageless, Italian woman. As always, her black and gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She had on her usual long black cotton dress and black flats. She stopped and gave me the once-over. Her dark eyes sparkled as she spoke.
    “Where you been?” she asked. “It’s been too long. You used to come here all the time, and then you disappear. Look how skinny you are. Hey, that’s OK. I fix you up good now. Both you and your cute boyfriend.”
    I followed close behind as she went through a maze of tightly packed tables. She led me out to the patio where Reno was waiting. He looked up and saw me. He took me in with his eyes as I walked over and sat.
    Even though I hadn’t seen him for almost a year, he was exactly as I remembered. His body was the kind you see on the covers of fitness magazines -- strong and tight. He was dressed in a faded Hawaiian Aloha shirt, blue jeans, and cross trainers. This was his typical uniform for surveillance and undercover work. I took a moment to look him over. Yup, those feelings were awake all over now. I was starting to tingle and sweat in some unusual places.
    I’ve never been able to explain why I’ve always felt this way about Reno. It isn’t just because he’s good-looking. I know lots of guys who are good-looking. It isn’t just his