Free Plateful of Murder by Carole Fowkes

weaknesses. Ed didn’t believe Michael, and Michael didn’t trust anyone from Triton.
    I spotted Dwayne out of the corner of my eye, standing next to a girl who looked familiar. I didn’t want to investigate him now. My frightened psyche sought only to slink back to the car and stuff my face with the veal. I squelched that impulse and addressed Ed, “If you don’t mind, we’d like to talk to the instructor.”
    Ed smirked. “You’re looking at him.” He bowed low.
    My face must have resembled one of those Edvard Munch’s portraits of screaming people because Ed followed up with, “Do it part time. With Mallorie.” He waved to the overly made-up young woman next to Dwayne. “Hey Mal, come on over.”
    He whispered to me, “Lose the camera.”
    This was beyond awful. Next Dwayne would tell me he’d been waiting for me. I slipped the camera into my pocket and hoped no one would notice the bulge. When Mallorie sashayed over, I realized why she looked familiar. She had worked for Constance, her final hire.
    Mallorie grinned like we were old friends. “I remember you, you’re the private eye.”
    My eyes darted nervously around the room, wondering if Dwayne had overheard. A suspicious fiancé like Jezebel and a PI that just happens to show up on while he’s doing…what? Dancing? I wanted to get out fast, before Dwayne put two and two together and used my camera strap to strangle me. And what would he do to Michael whose only mistake was being a great cook?
    Mallorie peered at Michael through her fake eyelashes, talking him up like she wanted him to invest in a Ponzi scheme. Or was that her way of flirting?
    I hooked my arm through Michael’s. “We better get going. It was nice to see—” But Mallorie slid her arm through Michael’s other one and gave it a tug. “No way. You came for a reason.”
    I gaped at Michael. Before either of us could respond though, Ed piped up, “They came to dance, Mal. Let’s show ‘em how.”
    He pulled me away from Michael, signaled to turn the music up, and whirled me around the dance floor. He twirled me out and back in like he was Fred Astaire, but I was Raggedy Ann. When he got me in a clutch he whispered, “She knows more.” With that he spun me out again, smack into Dwayne, who was dancing with a middle-aged woman in spandex pants that probably fit her twenty pounds ago.
    I tripped and Dwayne caught me. “Are you okay?”
    I righted myself, thankful I hadn’t worn heels. “I’m fine.”
    He smiled. “Good. I’m Dwayne. And you’re…?”
    “Claire. Just Claire.” I could feel the moisture in my underarms.
    “Nice to meet you, Claire.” He motioned toward Michael and Mallorie. “Looks like your friend knows a thing or two about salsa. That’s what I want. Gonna surprise my baby. Her name is Jezebel.”
    I felt warm all over, like when a puppy snuggles up to you. “That’s so nice.” I grinned. “So nice.”
    Before I babbled further, Ed grabbed hold of me again. “Excuse us, but Claire’s got more to learn tonight.” With that, he whisked me away past Michael. To my amazement and distraction, Michael was gliding around the dance floor like he’d been born to do it.
    Through clenched teeth, Ed hissed, “Don’t want you ruining my setup. Mallorie held back with you and the cops. I aim to find out what else she knows.”
    “How do you know she’s got anything else?”
    Ed held onto my waist while the song ended and another started. “Let’s just say she spends a hell of a lot more than she makes, even with this side job.”
    That got my full attention. “So someone’s paying her off.” I panted, slightly out of breath.
    He nodded. “But who and why’s the question.” Missing my spin cue, I mashed his ankle. He winced and dropped his arms. “Ooph!” He rubbed his ankle and murmured, “You’re pretty timid as a PI, but you’re deadly on the dance floor.”
    I could feel the others stop and my face felt hot. Michael rushed over, leaving