No Such Thing as a Free Lunch (No Such Thing As...: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) by Shelly Fredman

best interest. But I can’t let this drop. Tamra was my friend. Maybe we weren’t all that close, but nobody else is fighting for her, so that just leaves me. I’m right about this. I know I am.”
    I started to climb out of his car, but he yanked me back in, hoisting me over the stick shift until I was practically sitting in his lap.
    “You make me crazy,” he hissed. Grabbing my face in his hands, he leaned into me and planted his lips squarely on mine. It was totally unexpected and completely thrilling. I let myself enjoy it for a brief moment, and then as I opened my mouth to protest, he slipped his tongue in, so I had no choice but to kiss him back. It was everything I remembered and more.
    Suddenly the car became unbearably hot, so I unbuttoned my jacket and shrugged out of it, my mouth never leaving Bobby’s. He pulled me closer and slid his hands under my shirt, inching their way north.
“I should stop him,”
the sensible part of my brain said, while the other part, the one in charge of my libido screamed,
“If you stop him I’ll kill you.”
His hands were almost at my breasts and I felt my stomach muscles contract in anticipation. Just a little bit farther and—
    “Hi,” a small voice piped up from the back seat.
    I yanked my shirt down and peered over the top of the seat, where Sophia greeted me with eyes wide open. She stuck out a small hand and offered me a sip from her juice cup.
    “Um, no, thank you.”
    I turned back to Bobby. “Do you know what we just did?” I whispered frantically. “We just made out in front of your two-year old.
That’s sick
. We are
sick
people!”
    DiCarlo grinned. “If my kid could put together a complete sentence, I’m sure she would say it’s nice to see her old man enjoying himself for a change. I’ve waited a long time to do that,” he added quietly.
    “Was it worth the wait?”
    “You tell me.”
    “I’ve gotta go,” I said, my entire being still vibrating from his touch. I leaned over and yanked open the car door, but he pulled me back and kissed me again. Ten minutes later I opened the door for the third and final time.
    “I guess you’ll be burning up the phone lines tonight, telling your girlfriends all about this,” he said, a look of smug satisfaction on his gorgeous face.
    “Oh, grow up, DiCarlo!” I practically tripped over myself, running into the house to call Franny.
    “…and then out of nowhere he just grabs me, and then next thing I know, we’re making out like a couple of horny teenagers in the front seat of his car. Oh, now don’t give me that look. Like it’s never happened to you?”
    Adrian sat at attention by the foot of my kitchen chair, drooling over my every word—well, more likely, waiting for something to fall from my dinner plate onto the floor. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have been my first choice to confide in, but Franny wasn’t home and I
had
to tell
someone
.
    I left the dishes in the sink and took my laptop over to the coffee table. I’d think about this new development between Bobby and me later on in bed, when I had more time to devote to it.
    I typed in David Dwayne Harmon on Google and twenty-eight matches came up, among them, the oldest living alligator wrestler and a Rapper from New Hope. I added Death Row to the search and hit pay dirt.
    It was all there, from his arrest four years ago for the rape and murder of a wealthy co-ed named Laura Stewart, to his conviction and the inevitable appeals that followed. Thanks to the miracle of computer technology, I was able to piece together a fairly complete picture.
    On the night of the murder, Laura, an honors student of impeccable character went slumming with some friends at a bar in West Philly. According to eyewitnesses, Harmon, the bouncer at Marisco’s Cantina, struck up a conversation with Laura and pursued her throughout the evening. Laura was polite to Harmon, but she was clearly uncomfortable. She and her friends left shortly after ten p.m. Her landlord