Free Deadly Gamble: The First Charlie Parker Mystery by Connie Shelton

out the art objects and paintings.
With each came an explanation of where it had come from and either
a) how much it cost, or b) how much it was worth, or c) what a
fantastic deal he'd negotiated in buying it. I began keeping a
surreptitious count on my fingers and was amazed to find by the end
of the tour that Brad had supposedly visited forty-three different
countries. Either that or he was a tremendous bullshitter.
    Stacy found us in the study, where Brad was
going into an explanation of each of the famous person photos,
making sure I was fully informed about how well he knew each of
them. I looked in her direction and faked a tiny yawn. She almost
smiled.
    "Well, Brad, it's been just fascinating," I
interrupted. "We'll be going now. You must be totally exhausted
after taking me through all your travels."
    He trailed us to the front door, missing my
sarcasm as he raved about the wonderful brunch at the club. We
really should try it. We couldn't go wrong if we had the Eggs
Benedict. I ignored this blatant fishing for an invitation and
waved an impersonal little salute his direction as Stacy and I got
into my Jeep.
    Stacy was quiet in the car and I had to
restrain myself from asking whether Brad was always such a
braggart, or if that little show was entirely for my benefit. After
all, look at everything I'd missed out on.
    "I'm glad you picked up on my clue about
breakfast back there," I commented.
    She smiled tightly. "Charlie, this is very
risky. Why did you show up unannounced?"
    "Because taking people off guard is usually
the best way to get straight answers." Geez, what was the big deal?
"Okay, sorry. I hope this doesn't cause any trouble at home. I
honestly thought Brad would have left for work by now."
    "He's going over some papers at home this
morning," she said sullenly.
    "Obviously. Look, I was just going to ask a
quick question or two. I didn't mean to take up much time. The
breakfast thing was the only idea I could come up with on such
short notice. We can skip it if you want."
    "Oh, no. I mean, that would just take more
explanations. Let's find someplace to eat. It'll be okay as long as
I'm not gone too long."
    I wanted to point out to her that she was a
grown woman, allowed to eat out with a friend without offering a
dissertation on her reasons why. But I let it drop. I pulled into
the parking lot of a coffee shop I'd seen on the way up.
    "Is this okay?"
    She must have caught the edge in my voice
because she smiled and relaxed for the first time. "It's fine,
Charlie. And thanks." She squeezed my hand. "I did need to get out
of the house."
    I let that pass, too.
    We were seated right away and decided to
treat ourselves to huevos rancheros, juice, and coffee, and to top
it off with a danish. The important stuff out of the way, I got
down to the questions.
    "No, I haven't heard a word from the police,"
she replied. "I'm a nervous wreck every time the doorbell rings.
Brad has hung around the house like a watchdog. I can tell he's
suspicious".
    No wonder. She was as jumpy as an escaped
convict.
    "There was a small article about Gary in the
newspaper, but I never got a chance to read it. I was afraid Brad
would catch me and wonder why I was following the case."
    "Stacy, he doesn't actually read over your
shoulder, does he? How would he know what you're reading?" It was
like talking to a five-year-old.
    "I know." She sighed and drummed her fingers
nervously on the table until our food arrived.
    I gave myself over to the pleasure of eating.
The combination of flavors—tortilla, eggs, beans, cheese, and green
chile—filled me with satisfaction. Stacy picked at hers, taking a
tiny forkful at a time. She'd lost weight in the last week.
    "Stace, you gotta eat," I reminded her
gently. "Worrying about this isn't going to change anything. Look
at it this way, if the police haven't made the connection yet,
chances are they won't. Gary Detweiller had a lot of people in his
life, a lot of them with stronger reasons to hate him