for months on end—only to see her jump into the arms of another man at the drop of a hat.
Danny reached up for the rearview mirror and twisted it until it showed his reflection.
“So what are you?” he asked out loud. “A man or a mouse?”
His own face stared back at him, and he knew the answer to the question: He was a mouse.
But he was ready to be a man.
With fresh resolve, Danny put the mirror back into position and turned his gaze to the road. It was time to tell Jo that he loved her. For days he had avoided that particular conversation, blaming it on lack of time or opportunity or whatever. But really, it was all about having the guts to do it. It was time for Danny to summon all of his nerve and lay his cards on the table.
“Jo Tulip, I’m in love with you,” he said, trying to hear how it sounded out loud. “Not just as a friend, but as much more than a friend. I have been for a long time. More than that, I think you’re in love with me too. You just don’t know it yet.”
Okay, that sounded pretty good. He knew they had to spend an hour or so at this guy’s house, but after that Jo was all his. No matter what else was going on, he would insist that she give him an hour of her undivided attention. They could find some little park or other scenic spot where they could sit outside and talk it through. Maybe a romantic restaurant?
Wherever they went, Danny knew this for sure: It was time to tell Jo the truth. He loved her, he always had, and he always, always would.
Jo paced inside the convenience store, wishing she had found a less boring spot for the chief to drop her off to wait for Danny. The trip out to Frank Malone’s house had taken up so much time that she knew she wouldn’t be able to go all the way back with the chief to Mulberry Glen, pick up her car and Danny, and drive back out to Peter Trumble’s house. Better she get Danny to pick her up there and they could head west together, reaching their destination that was, Jo figured, about 15 miles away. If Danny got there soon, they wouldn’t be very late.
She had bought a bottle of water and a little bag of peanuts when the chief first dropped her off, thinking it would be polite to make a purchase if she were going to stand around for half an hour. Now she ate the peanuts out of boredom, watching the store’s cat settle comfortably on the windowsill. She wondered how much longer it would be before Danny’s red Honda turned into the parking lot. To pass the time, she read the peanut bag which proclaimed, in large blue letters, “Warning: This package may contain nuts and/or nut-related products.” Well, duh. A bag of nuts contains nuts? That was almost as bad as sleep-aid pills warning they may cause drowsiness.
Jo sprinkled a few of the nuts in her hand and thought of her Aunt Winnie, who was allergic to nuts and shellfish and a whole host of other things. It must be awful to carry that burden, to always have to be so careful of what one ate or breathed or came into contact with.
She thought of Frank Malone, of how he had suffered with asthma the night he died. Had that been allergy related? If so, she wondered what his particular allergens were. Maybe he was having a reaction to men in chaps.
The cat grew restless and jumped from the windowsill to the floor, running behind the counter. As Jo watched it go, an image suddenly popped into her mind, that of a small blue pillow covered in white animal fur. She thought back to last night, to standing around the crime scene while Danny took photos. A cop had removed such a pillow from Frank Malone’s car.
Yet, out at Malone’s house, there had been no sign of any animals that she could recall—no cat food in the cabinet or dog house in the backyard or water bowl on the floor.
So where had that pillow come from?
On a hunch, Jo approached the young woman behind the counter, who was sitting with her feet propped on a stool, reading a magazine. She was the only person in the store
Danny reached up for the rearview mirror and twisted it until it showed his reflection.
“So what are you?” he asked out loud. “A man or a mouse?”
His own face stared back at him, and he knew the answer to the question: He was a mouse.
But he was ready to be a man.
With fresh resolve, Danny put the mirror back into position and turned his gaze to the road. It was time to tell Jo that he loved her. For days he had avoided that particular conversation, blaming it on lack of time or opportunity or whatever. But really, it was all about having the guts to do it. It was time for Danny to summon all of his nerve and lay his cards on the table.
“Jo Tulip, I’m in love with you,” he said, trying to hear how it sounded out loud. “Not just as a friend, but as much more than a friend. I have been for a long time. More than that, I think you’re in love with me too. You just don’t know it yet.”
Okay, that sounded pretty good. He knew they had to spend an hour or so at this guy’s house, but after that Jo was all his. No matter what else was going on, he would insist that she give him an hour of her undivided attention. They could find some little park or other scenic spot where they could sit outside and talk it through. Maybe a romantic restaurant?
Wherever they went, Danny knew this for sure: It was time to tell Jo the truth. He loved her, he always had, and he always, always would.
Jo paced inside the convenience store, wishing she had found a less boring spot for the chief to drop her off to wait for Danny. The trip out to Frank Malone’s house had taken up so much time that she knew she wouldn’t be able to go all the way back with the chief to Mulberry Glen, pick up her car and Danny, and drive back out to Peter Trumble’s house. Better she get Danny to pick her up there and they could head west together, reaching their destination that was, Jo figured, about 15 miles away. If Danny got there soon, they wouldn’t be very late.
She had bought a bottle of water and a little bag of peanuts when the chief first dropped her off, thinking it would be polite to make a purchase if she were going to stand around for half an hour. Now she ate the peanuts out of boredom, watching the store’s cat settle comfortably on the windowsill. She wondered how much longer it would be before Danny’s red Honda turned into the parking lot. To pass the time, she read the peanut bag which proclaimed, in large blue letters, “Warning: This package may contain nuts and/or nut-related products.” Well, duh. A bag of nuts contains nuts? That was almost as bad as sleep-aid pills warning they may cause drowsiness.
Jo sprinkled a few of the nuts in her hand and thought of her Aunt Winnie, who was allergic to nuts and shellfish and a whole host of other things. It must be awful to carry that burden, to always have to be so careful of what one ate or breathed or came into contact with.
She thought of Frank Malone, of how he had suffered with asthma the night he died. Had that been allergy related? If so, she wondered what his particular allergens were. Maybe he was having a reaction to men in chaps.
The cat grew restless and jumped from the windowsill to the floor, running behind the counter. As Jo watched it go, an image suddenly popped into her mind, that of a small blue pillow covered in white animal fur. She thought back to last night, to standing around the crime scene while Danny took photos. A cop had removed such a pillow from Frank Malone’s car.
Yet, out at Malone’s house, there had been no sign of any animals that she could recall—no cat food in the cabinet or dog house in the backyard or water bowl on the floor.
So where had that pillow come from?
On a hunch, Jo approached the young woman behind the counter, who was sitting with her feet propped on a stool, reading a magazine. She was the only person in the store
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