Free Closet Confidential by Mary Jane Maffini Page B

easily accessible.
    I jumped when I saw the man loom in the window.
    Connor Tierney leaned over and fixed those ice blue eyes on me.
    “Pants on fire?” he asked.
    “Very funny. I wasn’t going that fast.”
    “How fast were you going?”
    I hung on to the shreds of my dignity. “I don’t actually know the precise speed, but I am certainly not in the habit of . . .” I tried not to be distracted by the slight hint of his sexy aftershave. Why is that a weakness for me?
    “Rule one: Don’t argue with the nice policeman.”
    “Oh. Is there a nice policeman around here somewhere?” I glanced out my rear window.
    He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned into my open window. “I wanted to talk to you.”
    “Write the ticket. If I was speeding, I’ll pay the price. I didn’t even know detectives carried radar guns with them.”
    “We don’t. Like I said, I want to talk to you.”
    “About what?”
    “Well, about this situation with the Beauchamps for one thing.”
    “I’m not sure there’s going to be a situation. Lorelei can’t even get out of bed today. She’s not in emotional shape to take on a big complicated project.”
    “Big complicated project. Closets?”
    “Don’t denigrate my work. That is surely outside the scope of your job description, Detective.”
    “Speaking of, I hope you are not going to nose around about Anabel Beauchamp and get everyone all revved up.”
    “By everyone, do you mean the Woodbridge police?”
    “I mean some of the Woodbridge police and the library staff and who knows who else.”
    I was outraged. “The library staff? They’re supposed to keep inquiries confidential. Wait a minute. I do not believe that Ramona would—”
    “Rat you out to the fuzz?”
    “Hilarious.”
    “One of the patrons called the station to make a complaint that you were disturbing the peace in the library and stirring up controversy over Anabel Beauchamp’s death.”
    “Wow. Crime rates in our city must be at an all-time low if detectives collect information about people asking questions in the library. Do you keep track of everyone’s overdue books, too?”
    “Let’s say I happened to be passing by when the call came in.”
    “Lucky me.”
    “I need you to promise me you won’t get yourself involved in another investigation.”
    “Seriously, there’s no way I intend to get involved in an investigation. I am merely worried about Anabel’s mother, who may or may not be my client after today. She thinks someone killed her daughter. I don’t know why, and I don’t know anything about the circumstances. I have known Mrs. Beauchamp for years, and I knew Anabel slightly and liked her very much. I got the impression when I was talking to Nick that he saw something that didn’t look right. Now, I’m fully aware that Nick Monahan is an idiot, and I can always tell when Pepper’s lying. So as she believes it was a tragic accident, I am prepared to accept that.”
    “What about me? Didn’t you think I was telling the truth?” I heard the jingle of his keys.
    “Not sure. I don’t know much about you.”
    “But we had such a great evening out a few weeks back.”
    “Right. I have vague memories of that.”
    “I thought we’d have more of those.”
    “Did you?” My voice was chilly enough to frost up the windows.
    “Yeah. But then I had to take leave and fly back to my hometown to handle some urgent family business. My brother was injured on duty. He has a young family and he needed help. I should have called you, but everyone in my family dropped whatever they were doing and pulled together for his wife and kids.”
    “Oh.” I felt about as tall as Truffle and Sweet Marie.
    “I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner. I didn’t want to mention it today in front of your shadow.”
    “His name is Jack. And I apologize. I should have figured there was a good reason why you never called back.”
    It sure was my day to say sorry a lot.
    “I did try a few times, but