Free Scraps of Evidence: Quilts of Love Series by Barbara Cameron

menu all night,” Tess said. “Listen to this: ‘to celebrate our beautiful bougainvillea tree, we have created a special dessert of strawberries sautéed in butter and black pepper, vanilla bean ice cream, and Cabernet vanilla sauce in a crispy phyllo cup.’”
    “A strawberry sundae,” he told her.
    “Sure. Just like what we ate was just ravioli, and steak, and cheese in pastry. I’m getting it. What are you having?”
    “Rum cake.”
    She scanned the description. “Sounds good, too.”
    Tess excused herself, and Logan called the waiter over.
    When she returned, the couple was leaving the restaurant. Both of them looked puzzled, but happy.
    Logan’s cell vibrated. He pulled it out and checked the display. “Sorry, Tess, I have to take this. It’s about a case back home. Be right back.”
    “There’s a quiet place back near the restrooms.”
    “Great. Go ahead and eat your dessert. This’ll just take a moment.”
    When he returned, Tess was setting her spoon down on her plate with a sigh.
    He grinned as he sat down. “That good?”
    “I managed to save you some,” she told him. “It’s only because I’m so glad we came here tonight. Otherwise, there’s no way I could be so generous.”
    Logan looked at the dish she pushed toward him. Barely a tablespoon of the strawberry sauce sat atop a small dollop of ice cream. But he was enjoying the way she looked so relaxed and happy, and he played along with her supposed generous gesture.
    He spooned it up and tasted strawberry heaven—rich berries that were sweet, but with the dash of butter and black pepper it had a unique flavor like nothing he’d tasted before.
    “I’m getting this next time we come.” He took a bite of his cake and pushed the plate toward her so that she could taste it.
    “We’re coming again?”
    He met her look. “I hope so.”
    She nodded slowly. “I’d like that.”
    The waiter came to ask if they wanted more coffee, and when they declined, he left their bill.
    “That was a sweet thing you did.”
    Logan looked up from putting his credit card in the leather envelope with the bill. “What? Offer you a bite of my cake?”
    “I know you paid the check for that couple.”
    “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Sure you do.”
    Logan pinned the man with a look as he picked up the bill.
    “You didn’t say I couldn’t tell her,” he said. “You just said I couldn’t tell the couple.”
    “Let me have the bill back,” Logan said easily. “I think I’ll cross off that tip . . . ”
    “Yes sir.” The man gulped, but handed it over.
    Logan pushed the bill back into the man’s hands. “Just kidding.”
    When they walked outside, a soft breeze carried the scent of the ocean nearby and rustled the branches of the bougainvillea tree. Delicate fuchsia-colored petals drifted down to dance on the cobbled street. People walked up and down the street, enjoying their evening. A man strummed a guitar and sang about pirates of old as he sat on the sidewalk, his guitar case open to receive tips.
    “I’m falling in love with this city of yours,” Logan told her. “Gordon told me I would.”
    “Gordon? He told you you’d like the city? When did he say that?”
    “When I came here for the interview. He was right about you, too.”
    She stopped and stared at him. “What?”
    “He said the department had a crackerjack detective I’d want to work with.”

8
    C rackerjack. He used the term ‘crackerjack’?”
    “Yeah. You’ve never heard him describe you that way?”
    Tess shook her head. She began walking toward the car again. Logan walked beside her, his hands in his pockets.
    “You knew he wrote me?”
    “No.”
    Logan nodded. “Right after my team solved the Blanco serial killer case. Said he was on the recruitment committee and the department was looking for a new detective. He invited me to come down and talk to the committee about the job, take a look around the city, and see if it was a place I might