Death by Coffee by Alex Erickson Page A

Coffee.” Ugh! I was back to speaking in three-word sentences. Kill me now.
    “Krissy?” Officer Paul Dalton’s silky smooth voice slipped over the line. “Is something wrong?”
    “Oh . . . no,” I said. “Your mom gave me your number.” My head thumped against the island counter as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
    He laughed. “Sounds like her.” He paused. “I am glad you called, though. Most girls run screaming in the other direction when she does that.”
    Most girls? How many girls did Mommy think were right for him? Maybe I wasn’t so special, after all.
    “Well, I’m not most other girls.” God, that sounds dumb. Why do I turn into such a moron when talking to him? This was clearly not the best way to get a date.
    “No, you’re definitely not.”
    My breath caught in my throat. What does that mean? Is it a compliment? Am I scaring him off? I really wished I had the ability to read minds so I knew whether or not I should be jumping up and down in joy or crying softly in a corner.
    “I’m sorry to have called you, out of nowhere.” Another thought hit me. “Are you on the beat?” I rolled my eyes. Do they even call it “the beat” anymore? Dumber and dumber . . .
    “You’re fine,” he said with a laugh. “I’m home. And really, I don’t mind that you called. In fact, I’m just happy Mom managed to get it right this time.”
    I made a little squeaking sound. I tried to cover my mouth with my hand before it snuck out, but I was too late.
    “Did you step on a mouse?” he asked, deadpan serious.
    The only thing that could have made that moment worse was if he’d been standing right there. My face was so red, I could feel the heat radiating off me. Can I please die now?
    Paul chuckled. “I’m just teasing you.” He was silent a moment before going on. “You know, if you want to continue this conversation some other time, I’m open to it.”
    “Are you serious?” I smacked myself upside the head. One day I was going to think before I spoke, though thinking was hard right about then. Could he really be interested in me? Or was I just reading too much into an innocent conversation?
    “Of course, I am.” He laughed again. “You interest me.”
    “Even though I might be a murder suspect?”
    Okay, that was it. I was going to permanently ban my mouth from running before my brain could catch up. What did I want to do, screw up my chances for a date by saying as many stupid things as I could in the shortest amount of time possible? Did they have an award for that? Even Misfit glanced at me at the last one.
    Officer Dalton was silent for so long, I was positive he was reconsidering his offer. What would it look like if he went on a date with a suspect in what could possibly be a murder? He might lose his job and I’d somehow become the prime suspect. The media would be all over how I’d come on to him in a way to throw suspicion off myself or . . .
    I clamped down on that line of thought. I was pretty sure that was the storyline to one of Dad’s mysteries.
    “I don’t see how you could be,” he said. “There’s no evidence of a murder in Pine Hills, unless you’re confessing to one?”
    “I’m not,” I said, relieved.
    “Good.”
    “Okay.”
    “Okay, you’ll see me?”
    “Sure,” I said after my silent little squeal of joy.
    “Tomorrow night sound good?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Okay.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll pick you up at, let’s say . . . seven?”
    “Okay.” Broken record? Me? Never. “Let me give you my address.”
    “It’s okay,” he said with a laugh. “I already have it.”
    Of course, he did. His mom probably had run a background check on me and had passed on the information to him.
    There was a moment of silence where I wasn’t sure whether I should be flattered or upset. If that’s what had happened, he knew more about me than I did him. That wasn’t fair!
    “So . . . ,” he said, drawing out the word, “see you