Death of the Couch Potato's Wife: Cozy Christian Mysteries (Women Sleuth, Female Detective Suspense) by Christy Barritt Page A
Authors: Christy Barritt
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strange that he wouldn’t put that on his calendar.
Yvonne’s voice carried into the office. She was still trying to convince her customers that buying that coral-colored couch would set them apart from everyone else they knew. I couldn’t deny the truth in that statement.
Quickly, I opened the top drawer. Nothing except pencils and paper clips.
I opened the next drawer. Beef jerky and candy bars.
Yvonne’s voice sounded closer. My heart beat double-time. I couldn’t get caught snooping. I eased the drawer shut and propelled myself to the other side of the desk. I grabbed the clipboard just as Yvonne stuck her head back into the office.
“I’ll just be another few minutes.” Yvonne patted her hair. “Are you okay in here?”
I offered what I hoped to be a sincere-looking smile. “Just fine.”
Sweat beaded on my forehead. Tension embedded itself in my neck. But I was fine. Really.
I needed to rinse my moisture-coated face before Yvonne saw me again. Otherwise, she’d know something was up. Being deceitful wasn’t exactly my forte.
I stepped into the hallway. To my left was the showroom and the warehouse was to the right. Another office waited at the next door. Candace’s, maybe? Surely the police had already checked that out.
There, across the hallway, was a door with a little male and female sign. I’d take a quick trip there to calm my nerves and get myself together.
My shoes fell silently on the floor. I usually preferred heels but these soft little loafers were pretty comfortable and cute to boot.
I twisted the rusty handle and pushed inward, leaning my way into the bathroom as I did so.
A man washed his hands on the other side of the single stall room. I gasped in surprise.
Someone should have locked the door.
Jerry should have locked the door.
Chapter 12
The door slammed in my face. I stood there, nose to nose with the wood, trying to collect my thoughts.
Jerry? Had that really been Jerry?
I might be bored but not enough to make that up.
I gathered my wits before twisting the knob again. I pushed the door open with purpose this time. Sure enough, the man was still at the sink, washing his face.
I stared open-mouthed at my neighbor. He stared back at me with the same expression. Jerry looked like he hadn’t slept for days. His comb-over hadn’t been combed over. His pasty skin looked even paler with the dark nubs of hair shadowing his jaw. Bags hung like slings under his eyes.
I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. “What are you doing here, Jerry Flynn?
He wiped his face with a paper towel, balled it up, and threw it in the trash with a huff. Water still dripped from his nose.
“Hello? I could use a little privacy.” He waved his hands around the small room.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re washing your hands.” I scowled. “The police are looking for you.”
His expression drooped. “I know.”
“What are you doing?”
“Preservation of life.” He jabbed his finger into his chest. “I’m hiding.”
“If you’re hiding, that means you’re guilty.” I tried to take a step back but the door stopped me. I may have just trapped myself in the bathroom with a killer. I should have at least brought a defense of some sort—a bat, mace, something! If Jerry was capable of killing Candace, he could kill me, and I’d just given him the perfect opportunity.
“No, I’m not guilty. But I look like I am. I know I do. I can’t let the police find me. They’ll throw me in the slammer.”
Which would be exactly where he belonged.
I reached behind me and gripped the doorknob, just to be safe. “When did you get back in town, Jerry?”
He shook his head and the drip of water on his nose flew across the room. “I never went out of town. I’ve been here the whole time. I swear.”
“Listen Jerry, you better start explaining right now, or I’m going to call the cops.”
“Keep your voice down!” He patted his hands in the air, as if to say, “hush!”
Yvonne’s voice carried into the office. She was still trying to convince her customers that buying that coral-colored couch would set them apart from everyone else they knew. I couldn’t deny the truth in that statement.
Quickly, I opened the top drawer. Nothing except pencils and paper clips.
I opened the next drawer. Beef jerky and candy bars.
Yvonne’s voice sounded closer. My heart beat double-time. I couldn’t get caught snooping. I eased the drawer shut and propelled myself to the other side of the desk. I grabbed the clipboard just as Yvonne stuck her head back into the office.
“I’ll just be another few minutes.” Yvonne patted her hair. “Are you okay in here?”
I offered what I hoped to be a sincere-looking smile. “Just fine.”
Sweat beaded on my forehead. Tension embedded itself in my neck. But I was fine. Really.
I needed to rinse my moisture-coated face before Yvonne saw me again. Otherwise, she’d know something was up. Being deceitful wasn’t exactly my forte.
I stepped into the hallway. To my left was the showroom and the warehouse was to the right. Another office waited at the next door. Candace’s, maybe? Surely the police had already checked that out.
There, across the hallway, was a door with a little male and female sign. I’d take a quick trip there to calm my nerves and get myself together.
My shoes fell silently on the floor. I usually preferred heels but these soft little loafers were pretty comfortable and cute to boot.
I twisted the rusty handle and pushed inward, leaning my way into the bathroom as I did so.
A man washed his hands on the other side of the single stall room. I gasped in surprise.
Someone should have locked the door.
Jerry should have locked the door.
Chapter 12
The door slammed in my face. I stood there, nose to nose with the wood, trying to collect my thoughts.
Jerry? Had that really been Jerry?
I might be bored but not enough to make that up.
I gathered my wits before twisting the knob again. I pushed the door open with purpose this time. Sure enough, the man was still at the sink, washing his face.
I stared open-mouthed at my neighbor. He stared back at me with the same expression. Jerry looked like he hadn’t slept for days. His comb-over hadn’t been combed over. His pasty skin looked even paler with the dark nubs of hair shadowing his jaw. Bags hung like slings under his eyes.
I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. “What are you doing here, Jerry Flynn?
He wiped his face with a paper towel, balled it up, and threw it in the trash with a huff. Water still dripped from his nose.
“Hello? I could use a little privacy.” He waved his hands around the small room.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re washing your hands.” I scowled. “The police are looking for you.”
His expression drooped. “I know.”
“What are you doing?”
“Preservation of life.” He jabbed his finger into his chest. “I’m hiding.”
“If you’re hiding, that means you’re guilty.” I tried to take a step back but the door stopped me. I may have just trapped myself in the bathroom with a killer. I should have at least brought a defense of some sort—a bat, mace, something! If Jerry was capable of killing Candace, he could kill me, and I’d just given him the perfect opportunity.
“No, I’m not guilty. But I look like I am. I know I do. I can’t let the police find me. They’ll throw me in the slammer.”
Which would be exactly where he belonged.
I reached behind me and gripped the doorknob, just to be safe. “When did you get back in town, Jerry?”
He shook his head and the drip of water on his nose flew across the room. “I never went out of town. I’ve been here the whole time. I swear.”
“Listen Jerry, you better start explaining right now, or I’m going to call the cops.”
“Keep your voice down!” He patted his hands in the air, as if to say, “hush!”
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