Free No Place Like Hell by K. S. Ferguson Page A

tableware and white linen tablecloths. Little crystal vases held pink carnations and a sprig of fern leaf.
    Bold pastel pink and green strips zigzagged the tan walls. A mural by the door showed an Indian brave mounted on a rearing pinto pony, a teepee in the background. His nocked arrow aimed at my heart.
    The place buzzed with conversation from two dozen tables filled with women in town to shop. They wore breezy cotton dresses and carried designer purses. I wore my dark blue uniform and carried a gun. I began to question my choice in apparel.
    The place was jammed. How had Tad gotten a reservation so quickly? I supposed if you're the mayor's son, you could call in favors.
    Cool air sent a shiver down me. Or maybe it was the sight of Tad sitting in a booth near the back. He hadn't seen me. I could run away, plead an emergency call from work, or say I'd been kidnapped by aliens in a flying saucer.
    Dave was right. Hanging with the mayor's son was a bad idea. It wouldn't endear the upper echelons to me. They'd think I was trying to leverage our acquaintance into a promotion. We'd have lunch today, and then I'd call it quits.
    I gritted my teeth and wove between tables until I reached him. For a guy who'd bounced down the asphalt just the day before yesterday, he scrambled up with surprising speed.
    "Officer Demasi, I'm glad you made it," he said as he helped me into the booth. He took his seat and stared so hard I thought I'd smeared my lipstick.
    "Mr. Newell, it's good to see you up and around."
    He gave a throaty chortle. "Listen to us. We sound like complete strangers. It's Tad. 'Mr. Newell' is my dad."
    "We are," I blurted. It felt a lot warmer by the kitchens. "Strangers, I mean."
    Belatedly I added, "Nicky. Friends call me Nicky."
    The waitress arrived with menus. I scanned for something that wouldn't slop on my uniform or get stuck in my teeth. Tad ordered a beer and asked if I'd join him. A tall cold one sounded wonderful.
    "Not while I'm in uniform," I said, regretting again my choice in dress.
    "You wear it well," Tad said. "It's about time the Solaris PD realized what an important contribution women can make."
    "I'm delighted to hear you think so," I said, surprised by his progressive attitude. "Now if only the 'old boys network' would come around."
    Dave's words of caution danced through my head, and I bit my tongue. I didn't need Tad tattling to his dad how the lowly patrol officer whined about the brass.
    "You have all the qualities of an excellent officer. You're smart. You keep your head in an emergency." He reached across the table to touch my hand. "If you didn't, I wouldn't be here now. I can't thank you enough."
    The little metal cream pitcher reflected the red in my face. "Any officer would have done the same."
    "Of course I wasn't awake to appreciate it, but I'm glad it was your lips locked on mine." He winked at me.
    I focused on the menu. His flip-flops from serious discussion to smarmy quips left me confused and without a retort.
    He read his menu. "I recommend the tomato bisque with the bread sticks."
    The waitress returned to our table, and he ordered the soup for both of us. I placed the napkin on my lap and adjusted the cutlery.
    "This Slasher case sounds nasty," he said. "The police chief has been updating my dad hourly."
    I breathed a sigh of relief at the turn in conversation. "It was. Blood everywhere."
    Tad's face shaded to green under his yellow and purple bruises.
    "Oh, sorry, I shouldn't say that at the lunch table."
    "You were there?" He swallowed hard, and a sheen of sweat broke on his forehead.
    "My partner and I were first on the scene. We got the call right after you left in the ambulance."
    "I hadn't realized…"
    He frowned down at the fork that he rubbed with a forefinger, and I got the impression he'd gone a million miles away. Or perhaps he'd gone only as far as the killing fields of the war.
    "But I can't talk about the case." I sat back.
    "No, of course you can't."
    Tad rearranged