Free Plateful of Murder by Carole Fowkes Page B

and brainless. I managed to grab his hand and pumped it. “Thanks again.” I practically ran out the door. Not exactly my moment of glory.
    ***
    After a restless night and early morning, my notes on Dwayne’s activities lay on my desk in a semblance of order. Jezebel sat in the chair opposite me. Another of Gino’s rules was “Don’t give them the lowdown ‘til they give you the dough.”
    “As you know, I’ve completed my investigation.”
    The woman, in funeral-like garb, sat stiff in her chair, rubbing her hands together so hard I wondered if they’d spark. Having no desire to prolong her uncertainty, I showed her the photo taken of Dwayne entering the dance studio.
    My findings concluded, I smiled, thinking she’d do the same. Or at least show some sign of relief. 
    Instead, her mouth twisted and her eyes bulged. “You’re telling me he wasn’t with another woman?”
    Didn’t she believe me? “No, he isn’t. He’s just taking dance lessons.” I tilted my head. “Isn’t that good news?”
    She slumped in her chair. “Yeah, it is. But now he’ll know I lied.”
    My eyebrows knit and my stomach tensed. Why is nothing in this job easy?
    She looked like she was about to cry. “He’s taking those damned lessons because I bragged about what a good dancer I was.”
    My brain screamed, “Stay out of it.” But my mouth never took orders from anyone. “What made you do that?”
    She leaned her head back like the answer was on the ceiling. “He’s great at so many things, I wanted to be better than him at something.”
    I shrugged. “If it’s that important, take lessons yourself.”
    She shook her head. “Can’t afford to. Unless…” A Cheshire cat grin appeared on her face.
    I glanced at the check she’d written me like it was a lover who’d just told me we were through. Jezebel’s eyes followed mine. “The fee was stated in the contract you signed.”
    “You’re right.” She let out a defeated sigh.
    I sat back, satisfied, until my sentimental gene began aggressively reproducing. I gave in and pushed back my practical worries. “Do you know how much they cost?” My voice, barely above a whisper.
    Jezebel’s eyes sparkled and she looked eighteen, although that birthday was in the distant past. “A friend of mine once offered to teach me off the clock for a hundred dollars.”
    Subtracting that amount from the total on this case, I pursed my lips. “Can’t he be more off the clock than that?” Admitting the stakeout had actually turned out to be pleasant made it easier for me to give in. “Okay, I could subtract $75 from what you owe me right now. You can pay it back at $25 a month.” I had a hunch I’d never see that money.
    Jezebel pounced. “Really?” She scooped my hand up in hers. “You’re great. I mean it. Anytime someone needs an investigator, I’ll make sure they have your name.”
    I rubbed my forehead, already regretting my generosity, especially since it was using borrowed money. Guilt crept up on me. My promise to Dad to repay him with this contract money now became impossible. Not if I wanted to eat and pay Michael back for the dance lessons. 
    We settled up and an ecstatic Jezebel thanked me even as she walked out my door. She even promised to invite me to the wedding. At least I knew someone who could dance with me there.
    Busy berating myself for being a softie, I ignored the phone ringing until I realized the caller was Mallorie. She wanted to meet with me to talk about Constance. That was a shock, and questions boomeranged in my mind, but they went unasked. Afraid of spooking her, I played it cool, keeping my comments to a minimum, and quickly agreeing on a time and place.
    Calling Michael crossed my mind. Or maybe Ed. Even Detective Corrigan’s name popped into my head, but in the end, I decided it was my case to follow through.
    Stuffing two granola bars in my purse, I headed out to meet Mallorie. The congested roads stretched my fifteen minute drive