Other Worldly Ways (Anthology 1) by Connie Suttle

never promise anything like that. Ever," Shane frowned at me. "Want me to come inside and keep things civil?"
    "You're the one who almost caused the fight last time," I pointed out. "Are you spoiling for another fight with our esteemed detective?"
    "Esteemed? Conner, have you taken up drinking as a hobby? Esteem and Detective Glass have never been properly introduced."
    "He's a good man. Granted he's still pining for his dead wife, but he does his job."
    "Every other sentence is about his dead wife," Shane mumbled as he climbed out of the car. "She might as well be living and your husband may as well be dead."
    "Shane, we will be nice today," I pointed a finger at him across the top of his vehicle. Detective Jon Glass slid out of his unmarked, standard-issue patrol car and stood, stretching his five-nine frame. We were roughly the same age, he and I, and he'd earned Shane's disgust when he ignored me and talked about his dead wife. All. The. Time. I was surprised when a second man emerged from the passenger side of Detective Glass' vehicle.
    "Detective Glass. How nice to see you again," Shane said, feigning false politeness as we walked up. "How's your wi?" Shane didn't finish his question; he was too busy trying to breathe after I'd caved his ribs in with an elbow.
    "I'm still coping," Detective Glass sighed, ignoring Shane's uneven breathing. "I miss Gladys every day." Yeah, her name was Gladys Glass. The name alone probably killed her.
    "What can I do for you, Detective?" I asked politely. "I thought we concluded our three cases earlier in the year." We had. I can count to three, just like any two-and-a-half-year-old.
    "I persuaded Detective Glass to introduce us," the second man came forward, offering his hand. He probably hadn't hit fifty yet, but he was cozying up to it. "I'm Special Agent Matthew Ricks. From the Georgia Bureau of Investigation."
    Right then, I wanted to stick an elbow in Detective Glass' ribs. He and his partner had promised not to tell anyone about my special talents. Yet here we were, with the cat not only let out of the bag but climbing the limbs of Georgia's law-enforcement tree just as fast as it could.
    "I told him he couldn't tell anybody," Detective Glass whined, cringing beneath my accusing glare.
    "And Conner told you not to tell anybody," Shane said. "We see how well that went." Sarcasm was certainly one of Shane's assets. He probably listed it on his resume. If he needed a resume. He was ranked as Atlanta's second richest citizen. Women used to flock to him, until they learned he wasn't interested. In women, that is.
    Shane always said if my husband Steven ever met an untimely end, he'd marry me just to keep unwanted attention at bay. I told him to get his ass back through the gate in our shared fence. If Steven died, it might be a cold day in hell before I'd marry again.
    "Well, since you're here," I motioned both men toward the house. Shane followed, muttering obscenities under his breath.
    "I only want you to come to the scene with me once, just to tell me if anything is there," Special Agent Ricks said, sipping the iced tea Shane plunked in front of him. Detective Glass asked for coffee, so I was waiting for the coffeemaker to finish brewing a fresh pot. I'd offered cookies, bagels or donuts. Glass munched away on a donut. Special Agent Ricks smeared cream cheese on a sea salt bagel.
    "Fine," I sighed, pouring a fresh cup of coffee for Detective Glass. "When?"
    "As soon as we're done here," Special Agent Ricks said, taking a generous bite of his bagel.
    "Conner, go change, I'll handle this," Shane said. I gave him a look—one that said he'd better be civil or I would run naked through his next neighborhood barbecue.
    * * *
    "Much better. Gladys liked designer jeans," Detective Glass commented when I arrived in the kitchen ten minutes later, dressed in jeans and a silk T, a blazer slung over my arm. I'd shoved my feet in ballet slippers—I could walk in those without the heels sinking