Free DEAD BY WEDNESDAY by Beverly Long

there’s a group of retired gentlemen there, most of them widowers.”
    “Good Lord, Mom. Has Norman even moved his things out?”
    “This afternoon. I helped him pack his truck.” With the palm of her hands, she smoothed down her shirt. “At my age, you can’t wait around forever. And they only play bingo twice a month.”
    Rebound bingo. At least he didn’t have to give her the lecture about practicing safe bingo.
    He stood up, pushed his chair in and kissed his mother’s cheek. Ten years ago, he’d have tried to convince her that it wasn’t wise to jump from the frying pan into the fire. That was two husbands ago. “Call me if you need anything,” he said.
    It only took him fifteen minutes to get to Carmen’s apartment. At twenty minutes before seven, he parked down the block. He left his car running, knowing that the temperature inside would drop in minutes if he killed the engine.
    He closed his eyes and tried to block out the last half hour. It didn’t work.
    He had a bad gene pool. Maybe Sawyer was right to be worried about Carmen. What was it that he’d said? Not sure Carmen and you want the same thing.
    What did he want from Carmen?
    He wanted to kiss her again. That was a given. He’d managed to keep from blurting that out, thankfully.
    He wanted more, though. To hear her laugh. And watch her move around her kitchen in a tight black skirt with a towel tossed over one shoulder. To see her eyes, content with pride, when she watched her brother shovel in his spaghetti.
    None of that spelled danger for Ms. Jimenez. Sawyer was worried about nothing.
    Robert checked his watch and decided to wait another five minutes. He didn’t want to appear overanxious, yet he wanted to be prompt.
    That was respectful.
    Sawyer would be proud.
    At seven minutes before seven, Robert pulled into a parking space in front of Carmen’s building. He opened the main door of the three-story building and walked up the stairs to the second floor. Then, as he had the night before, he knocked on the door.
    Carmen opened it. She wore a high-necked, long-sleeved cream-colored sweater and matching slacks. She’d left her dark hair down and it fell over her shoulders to midback.
    She looked fabulous.
    And she smelled even better. Something spicy that hinted that there was more to Carmen than met the eye.
    Or was that wishful thinking on his part?
    “Hi,” he said. “You look nice.”
    She blushed. “I wasn’t sure where we’d be going.”
    “Maxine’s.”
    She frowned. “That’s expensive, isn’t it?”
    He waved a hand. “They’re running a winter special,” he said. “Where’s Raoul?”
    “In his room. I’ll get him. Excuse me,” she said.
    Robert stood near the door. He could see the cat. She was scrunched under the couch, watching him. “I’m not here to steal the silverware, Lucy,” he said, trying to sound friendly.
    No response from the cat.
    He could hear the murmur of voices from the back room. They went on. And on. And he was just about to barge down the hall and fix whatever needed to be fixed when Carmen appeared.
    “Raoul is sick,” she said. “He thinks it’s something he ate for lunch.”
    Okay. Plan B. “No problem. We can order in,” Robert said.
    The words were no more out of his mouth when Raoul appeared behind his sister. He was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and his hair was sticking straight up on his head.
    “I told you, sis. I want you to go. I’m not three. I can take care of myself. You deserve to have a nice dinner.”
    Robert could see the indecision in Carmen’s eyes. He kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to take the chance of reminding her that the dinner invitation had been about the three of them bonding.
    “You’re sure?” Carmen asked.
    Raoul rolled his eyes.
    “I’ll bring you back some chicken noodle soup,” she said.
    “Fine.” He turned and went back into his room.
    Robert worked hard to keep the smile off his face. “He probably just wants to get some