won't make you eat the herring or babysit. Sometimes there are unpleasant side effects from being forced to face your fears," Carla said. "You could puke from eating the rotten fish or get puked on by the baby. Gnarly."
"But sometimes you don't have a choice. You have to take on the scary stuff."
Carla leaned back on the thick cushion that topped the U-shaped nook bench. It felt as though the conversation was taking a turn, but she didn't know to where. Amy's discussion style was usually akin to reading a spy thriller. Better to expect the plot twists than get blindsided by them. "So what is scary in your life right now?"
Amy waved her hand as though she was swatting away her fears. "Oh, not much. Just somebody threatening my husband's business and trying to catch the building on fire when he, along with some of his employees, were in it."
Her mother had told her about the fire—how she and Amy had seen the initial explosion from the rooftop deck. When it came to problems, Amy's life was taking the go big or go home approach. And thanks to hanging out in diaper and pacifier land, Carla had apparently missed some big developments. "What do you mean someone is threatening his company?"
"He got an email saying Quantum was going to pay for doing something. But Alex has no idea who wrote the letter or what happened to piss off the person."
"Did the email come before or after the Dumpster was set on fire?"
"Before."
How did that much trouble find such nice people? Neither Alex nor Amy would intentionally hurt someone, but a person with a different moral compass was going after them. And in a serious way. "The Dumpster that was set on fire was the same one where that TV star's body was found. Do you think the fire was connected with that or the threat to Quantum?"
"Who knows. It's all more confusing than an Italian restaurant menu written in Japanese." Amy's gaze shifted to the window. "That can't be good either."
Carla turned. Alex's black Jeep was rolling up the driveway. The man was a workaholic, and it was the middle of a Monday afternoon. She had to agree with Amy. Whatever had brought him home probably wasn't a good thing. Yet maybe she could ease her friend's worried mind a bit. "Maybe he wanted to surprise you with a quickie, and I'm ruining his romantic plans. I can leave."
"Nice idea." Amy sighed. "But judging from the look on his face—you're wrong. He came home early a few days ago too—to tell me that a man wearing a Quantum shirt was spotted with Phoebe the night she was murdered."
The scowl on Alex's face as he walked up the path to the porch definitely was not an indicator for afternoon delight. He opened the door and set his briefcase on the floor next to the coatrack. "Hello, Carla. I haven't seen you here in a while." He moved to the end of the table and looked around the kitchen. "Where's Macy?"
"With grandma for the afternoon."
"Wonderful." He looked at Amy while sporting a decidedly serious, instead of sexy, expression. "Detective Foster had a theory that the fire may have been an attempt to light the building on fire, possibly to get rid of some kind of evidence. So she had a team come in and do a search." Alex ran his hand over his short dark-red hair. "They found a pair of women's panties hidden under some fiberboard in the third floor production room."
"Okay, that's kind of weird." Amy's nose wrinkled. "We've had sex away from home, and I've never left behind my underwear. You kind of realize things like that are missing when you get dressed."
Carla gave her friend a sideways glance. Amy seemed sweet and innocent, but underneath the Goldilocks persona was a bit of a wild woman. At the moment though, her sex life wasn't the most interesting thing. "So was anything else found?" Carla asked.
"No." Alex shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "Detective Foster seemed pretty excited to find the panties. I was standing at the bottom of the stairwell, blatantly eavesdropping, so I could hear what
"But sometimes you don't have a choice. You have to take on the scary stuff."
Carla leaned back on the thick cushion that topped the U-shaped nook bench. It felt as though the conversation was taking a turn, but she didn't know to where. Amy's discussion style was usually akin to reading a spy thriller. Better to expect the plot twists than get blindsided by them. "So what is scary in your life right now?"
Amy waved her hand as though she was swatting away her fears. "Oh, not much. Just somebody threatening my husband's business and trying to catch the building on fire when he, along with some of his employees, were in it."
Her mother had told her about the fire—how she and Amy had seen the initial explosion from the rooftop deck. When it came to problems, Amy's life was taking the go big or go home approach. And thanks to hanging out in diaper and pacifier land, Carla had apparently missed some big developments. "What do you mean someone is threatening his company?"
"He got an email saying Quantum was going to pay for doing something. But Alex has no idea who wrote the letter or what happened to piss off the person."
"Did the email come before or after the Dumpster was set on fire?"
"Before."
How did that much trouble find such nice people? Neither Alex nor Amy would intentionally hurt someone, but a person with a different moral compass was going after them. And in a serious way. "The Dumpster that was set on fire was the same one where that TV star's body was found. Do you think the fire was connected with that or the threat to Quantum?"
"Who knows. It's all more confusing than an Italian restaurant menu written in Japanese." Amy's gaze shifted to the window. "That can't be good either."
Carla turned. Alex's black Jeep was rolling up the driveway. The man was a workaholic, and it was the middle of a Monday afternoon. She had to agree with Amy. Whatever had brought him home probably wasn't a good thing. Yet maybe she could ease her friend's worried mind a bit. "Maybe he wanted to surprise you with a quickie, and I'm ruining his romantic plans. I can leave."
"Nice idea." Amy sighed. "But judging from the look on his face—you're wrong. He came home early a few days ago too—to tell me that a man wearing a Quantum shirt was spotted with Phoebe the night she was murdered."
The scowl on Alex's face as he walked up the path to the porch definitely was not an indicator for afternoon delight. He opened the door and set his briefcase on the floor next to the coatrack. "Hello, Carla. I haven't seen you here in a while." He moved to the end of the table and looked around the kitchen. "Where's Macy?"
"With grandma for the afternoon."
"Wonderful." He looked at Amy while sporting a decidedly serious, instead of sexy, expression. "Detective Foster had a theory that the fire may have been an attempt to light the building on fire, possibly to get rid of some kind of evidence. So she had a team come in and do a search." Alex ran his hand over his short dark-red hair. "They found a pair of women's panties hidden under some fiberboard in the third floor production room."
"Okay, that's kind of weird." Amy's nose wrinkled. "We've had sex away from home, and I've never left behind my underwear. You kind of realize things like that are missing when you get dressed."
Carla gave her friend a sideways glance. Amy seemed sweet and innocent, but underneath the Goldilocks persona was a bit of a wild woman. At the moment though, her sex life wasn't the most interesting thing. "So was anything else found?" Carla asked.
"No." Alex shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "Detective Foster seemed pretty excited to find the panties. I was standing at the bottom of the stairwell, blatantly eavesdropping, so I could hear what
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