food container and wiped his mouth with a white paper napkin.
âShe just got home yesterday. Maybe you could wait until tomorrow?â
âItâll have to be first thing in the morning then, in order to meet my deadline. Can you ask Miz Coldicutt to give us a copy of her book and Iâll have someone review it?â
âIâll bet sheâll be delighted.â Lizzie glanced around the room before asking her next question. âHave you had any information about the murder?â
âAha. Thatâs more like it. Not beyond the bare details. And you know those because you found the body, right? Care to give me a quote?â
Lizzie made a face. âI presume you were writing the story without that quote, so Iâll just skip it, please.â
Havers laughed. âAll right. It wouldnât really add anything to the story anyway, unless you have an idea of who the killer might be.â
âI was going to ask you the same thing.â
âNada. Neither do the police, I take it. Well, I certainly hope Molly Mathews is all right and thatâs the end of it.â
âThat makes two of us. And thanks for agreeing to do the story on Teensy.â Lizzie hitched the strap of her purse over her shoulder and turned to go. âBy the way, George, I also have a tip for you. Thereâs been another murder.â
Chapter Ten
Light reading is not light writing.
MARGERY ALLINGHAM
M arkâs Jeep was still nowhere to be seen in the police parking lot so Lizzie spent a few hours doing errands and then headed home. The cats came scrambling down the stairs as she deposited her purse on the kitchen counter. She glanced at the clock. Dinnertime all around.
Edam and Brie sat in front of their dishes, patient for a change.
Just like well-trained dogs.
She wondered if Mark was able to take a break and feed Patchett, his year-old hound. When a murder investigation took over his life, Mark often found it hard to get around to the normalities, like meals, sleep and his dog. She checked the phone, just in case Mark had left her a message. Sure enough, he had, asking if she could walk and then feed Patchett. She had a key and knew the routine so it would not be a problem.
But first, the cats. After topping up their dry food dishes and taking a few more moments to stroke their gleaming beige fur, she grabbed her purse and keys and drove to Markâs house, just five blocks away. Her own dinner could wait.
Patchett started his long, morose yowl the minute she stepped on the front porch. She braced herself as she unlocked the door, commanding him to stay when she shoved it open. Much to her delight, he sat down, although within inches of the door, allowing her just enough room to squeeze through. All those hours in dog-training classes had paid off for her. Mark had been saying for many months she should attend them along with him but it never happened. When he finally asked her to take his place for a few sessions, she knew their own relationship was on solid ground. It had to be love to allow your girlfriend into that sacred man-dog union.
They walked for half an hour and then she let him off leash at the high school football field and threw a grungy tennis ball for him to retrieve. When her arm started feeling sore, she hooked him up and they went back home for his meal. Although she was first and foremost a cat person, Patchett, with his long, sloppy ears and hangdog look, had won over her heart. She left him slurping water and went home.
She sent Mark a text letting him know all was well with his dog, and then gave Molly a quick call.
âHow are you feeling? Are you in bed? Did I disturb you?â
âGood. No and no.â Molly laughed. âYou sound a bit breathless, honey. What have you been up to, or should I even ask?â
âIâve been walking Markâs dog, thatâs all. Now that he has two murders, heâll have even less time than before for other
Terry Pratchett, Stephen Baxter
The Courtship Wars 2 To Bed a Beauty