Free Look Before You Jump by D. A. Bale Page A

woman leap to her death?”
    “Appearances can be…”
    “Second.” My fingers followed the count.
“Why’d none of her family attend the funeral?”
    “Really, Vic…”
    “Third. Of all the buildings in the city,
why’d she jump off mine?”
    That shut him up. Hallelujah and pass the
offering plate to that boy. The familiar furrow of Zeke’s brow
suggested I’d hit upon something he hadn’t considered. I guess
miracles do happen.
    “Did you know her very well?” Zeke asked.
    “We’d had lunch together last week – all
three of us, but it wasn’t like we were bosom buddies. Bobby said
she had felt a connection to me, and for a pastor’s wife she came
across as rather genuine, which goes a long way in my book.”
    Zeke rubbed his freshly shaved cheek. “Maybe
she’d just found out about your previous involvement with Bobby and
wanted to confront you.”
    “At three-thirty in the morning? Anyway,
Bobby had told her about the truck bed debacle before they got
married. If it wasn’t then, it’d sure been paramount before moving
back here.”
    “So meeting you face-to-face set her
off.”
    “What?”
    “I can vouch for your effect on people.”
    That did it. I set upon him a glare that
would set Hell on fire, turned on my heel, then marched out of the
office area to the elevator bank. Hell’s fumes burned through my
scalp while waiting for the floors to tick off until Zeke came
rushing around the corner and slid to a stop before nearly slamming
into me. Graceful tall guys – aren’t. Or at least only on
basketball courts. Gives ‘em that home court advantage.
    “New shoes?” I retorted.
    “Look, you bring up at least one interesting
question,” Zeke conceded.
    “Only one? Gee, thanks.”
    “I’ll take a hard look at the report if
you’ll go see Vernet and ask a little more on the family
background.”
    “Why can’t you do it?”
    “Not my case. Besides, it sounds like you
already have a relationship reestablished with him.”
    Was that a hint of jealousy in his tone?
“Fine.”
    “That’s settled,” Zeke said. “I’ll pick you
up at six.”
    “What for?” I asked.
    “We’ll rendezvous at that little Italian
place you like.”
    “Oh huh-uh.”
    “It’s not a date. It’s business,” Zeke called
over his shoulder as he walked away. “And you’re buying.”
    “The hell I am,” I responded.
    “See you at six.”
    “My ass!”
    “Maybe next time.”
    “Won’t be a next time!”
    But he was already gone – and I had company.
The older couple and the accountant type tried not to stare in the
uncomfortable silence. I sighed. The things I go through for the
men in my life. Or out of my life. Or whatever. Yeah, this was a
train wreck waiting to happen – and I’d voluntarily gotten on this
ride.
    Yee-haw and pass me a shot of Jack.
    ***
    There’s just something about seeing certain
ex-boyfriends that makes you wanna shoot something. It’s far
preferable than shooting somebody – at least according to the law.
When that certain ex was the law, it was best to take said
frustrations out on a thin piece of cardboard and imagine the
outline with a particular face inside it.
    It’d been quite some time since I’d last
headed out to the range with my little Sig Sauer P938 handgun. One
reason? I’d been kinda busy. The real reason? Zeke had bought the
gun for me when we’d dated and made sure I knew how to shoot the
thing on at least a weekly basis. After we broke up, I went
regularly to kill that son-of-a-bitch – figuratively of course.
    But ammo and range fees add up right quick
when you plow through rounds like a jilted lover. The gun also felt
almost tainted, a constant reminder of the relationship failure. So
I’d put it away on a closet shelf to gather dust. A year or so
later after a spate of muggings and rapes near the Historic West
End, I figured it was best for a single girl who worked nights to
have more than pepper spray for defense.
    Plus it was cute, the