Death of the Couch Potato's Wife: Cozy Christian Mysteries (Women Sleuth, Female Detective Suspense) by Christy Barritt

shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Why else would someone leave banana bread?”
    “To be a good neighbor?”
    “Good neighbors don’t break into homes. They leave cakes and cookies on the doorstep, maybe. They don’t barge in. Unless you’re Babe, and Babe was with me all night.”
    He got up and refilled his coffee. “Okay, maybe. But I still think it’s over the top to assume the bread is poisoned. And if it is, who says I’m the target? Maybe you know something about Candace’s murder that you’re not realizing.”
    “So it makes more sense for someone to be trying to poison me?” I plopped down into the chair across from him. “Besides, how did someone get into our house?”
    “We should call the police, I guess. It’s a rather odd crime, but with everything that’s been happening lately—”
    I sighed and pictured Chief Romeo. “They just left.”
    “What do you mean?”
    I explained what happened at the Flynns’ and how we ended up with the cat.
    Kent shook his head. “Do me a favor? Call the police and let them know what happened. I’ve got to get ready for work.”

    “Did you decide about that couch?”
    I swallowed my pride for a moment in order to pretend like I wanted Yvonne’s advice. “I don’t want the watermelon one. I would like to pick out one for my husband’s room.”
    Her eyes widened and her fingers went to her lips. “He has a separate room? I’m sorry, dear.”
    I shook my head. “No, not like that. He wants a man cave. You know, a place of his own.”
    Yvonne let her hand dropped before snickering. “A man cave? Sounds typical. And let me guess—he wants it in time for the Super Bowl?”
    Kent hadn’t said that, but now that Yvonne mentioned it, maybe getting the room together for the big day was a good idea. It could be my anniversary gift to him. I smiled as I thought about our anniversary. I couldn’t wait to see what Kent had planned for us. Every year he surprised me with something—a trip, a romantic date, jewelry. What would he come up with this year? I needed our anniversary to solidify our relationship.
    I wandered around until I found the perfect couch for Kent— dark brown leather, soft and comfortable. I could easily see him stretched out across it, relaxing after a hard day of work.
    “This is the one!”
    Yvonne smiled. “Great! Let’s go back to my office and have you fill out the paperwork. It will only take a few minutes.”
    “Sounds good.”
    She led me away from the showroom, down a yellow cinder- block hallway and into an overcrowded, outdated office. She pulled out a clipboard from a desk drawer and handed it to me. “I just need some basic information.”
    I tried to focus on the papers in front of me and resist the urge to let my eyes wander. What kind of clues about Jerry and Candace waited in this office? Had the police already been here to look for evidence? I wanted to snoop, but instead I kept my gaze focused.
    Until I heard a bell chime at the front of the store.
    Yvonne jerked her head toward the noise. “Listen, I’m the only one working right now—Lou’s out to lunch. Can you sit tight a minute?”
    Could I ever. “Of course.” I watched her leave before lowering the clipboard. My gaze roamed the small space. On a shelf behind the desk, I saw a picture of Jerry, dressed in his kingly attire. There was also a golfing trophy and that gaudy crown he wore in all his commercials.
    This was Jerry’s office!
    My adrenaline surged.
    In the distance, I heard Yvonne trying to sell that watermelon- colored couch. Maybe I still had a few minutes before she came back to check on me.
    I dodged the desk and plopped into the chair behind it. A calendar was shoved off to the side, covered in papers. Carefully, I slid it out and opened it to January. Various appointments were marked, most of them routine and not helpful. I ran my finger over the week Candace had died. Jerry hadn’t marked his South Carolina golf outing there. How