Free Fatal Chocolate Obsession (Death by Chocolate Book 5) by Sally Berneathy Page A

confided in me lately. The only person I know who’d have reason to kill her is her former lover, Rick.” Yes, I threw him under the bus and gleefully anticipated the way he’d squish when the wheels rolled over him. “She was killed while sitting in her car up the street from his house. Obviously she was spying on him, probably planning to make a big scene with the new girlfriend. Maybe Rick killed her so she couldn’t. Maybe she already made a big scene and the girlfriend killed her.”
    “Do you have a name for the new girlfriend?”
    With one foot, I shoved my chair back. It hit the wall with a satisfying thud. “I think he called her Robin. You’re the cops. It’s your job to find out that kind of stuff.”
    He slid the picture into his folder and stood. “That’s all for now. Thank you for coming in.”
    I started toward the door.
    “Did you bring any cookies with you?”
    I could not freaking believe he would grill me as if I were a murder suspect and then ask for chocolate! I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought then closed it. Over the years I’ve learned that it is never a good idea to rag on a cop when that cop stops me and accuses me of exceeding some arbitrary speed limit. Very likely the same thing applied to a cop accusing me of killing somebody.
    I smiled at Lawson. “I’m sorry. I didn’t bring anything today—short notice. But I promise I will tomorrow.”
    He nodded. “I really like your chocolate chip cookies.”
    “I’ll bring you a dozen with nuts.”
    His lips twitched slightly. He almost smiled.
    I left the room and started down the hall toward the exit.
    Trent came up behind me. “You okay?”
    “I’m fine,” I snapped.
    “Want me to come over for a while tonight?”
    Yes, yes, yes! “No.” I walked stiffly through the reception area and out the front door.
    Trent followed me and put a hand on my shoulder. “I get the idea you’re upset.”
    I turned to face him. “Who’s asking? My boyfriend Trent or Detective Adam Trent of the Pleasant Grove Police Department?”
    He grinned, a wide, open expression that always makes me want to grin back. “Both of us.”
    I refused to grin back. I scowled instead. “I’m not ready to be charmed. I’m angry at you for treating me like a suspect. You know I’d never kill anybody.”
    “Of course I know that. But we have to follow procedure. We have to check out everybody associated with the victim.”
    “Then go check out Rick. He just loves talking to you.”
    “Rick and his lawyer are coming in tomorrow.”
    “Already lawyered up? That tells you something!”
    “Do you think Rick killed Ginger?”
    I didn’t, but I’d been wrong about Rick before, like when I thought he was a nice man and married him. “It’s possible.”
    I stalked down the steps, away from Trent and Detective Adam Trent.
    “I’ll call you tonight.”
    “Maybe by then I’ll be over being mad and answer the phone.” I didn’t stop, just threw the words over my shoulder. “And maybe I won’t and I won’t.”
    I drove home without incident or ticket and fed Henry.
    Fred called. “Are you ready?” he asked by way of greeting.
    “Of course.” My answer was automatic, but it took me a moment to figure out what I was supposed to be ready for. In the course of being a person of interest, I’d forgotten about the proposed visit to Peterson.
    “What are you wearing?” he asked.
    I looked at my blue jeans and red knit shirt, both with traces of chocolate on them. “Black suit,” I lied.
    “Good. Come on over.” He hung up.
    I raced upstairs and changed into my trusty black suit, the one I only wear to funerals, visits to mobsters and other excursions with Fred. That suit is getting a little worn, and I haven’t been to a funeral in a long time.
    Henry accompanied me to Fred’s then left to pursue his own agenda. I fervently hoped I would return home to an empty porch—no mice, no flowers, no bottles of wine. After Ginger’s