The Readaholics and the Poirot Puzzle by Laura Disilverio Page B

Hart don’t check with me before they go off andmake an arrest,” she said, her expression inviting me to probe further.
    â€œNo, but you might overhear something,
accidentally
.” I could just picture Mabel lingering in the hallway outside the chief’s office, or taking note of indiscreet conversations between the uniformed officers. They should probably put suspects in an interview room with Mabel, I thought, who could coax information out of a spaghetti squash.
    â€œWell.” She leaned forward so a brass button clicked against the counter, pushed her glasses up her nose, and looked around. “I did get the impression Lindell—Detective Hart, I should say—and the chief were pretty excited about something they found in the vic’s phone records. And the chief and Jackie Merton, the DA, left at lunchtime for a couple days’ fishing up at the chief’s cabin, so I wouldn’t expect an arrest before they get back on Tuesday, at the very earliest. But you didn’t hear that from me,” she said, sitting back.
    â€œThanks, Mabel.” I signed the statement and handed it to her. “We’re thinking about reading a Michael Connelly book for next month. Want to join us?”
    â€œHarry Bosch or Lincoln lawyer?” she asked, tucking the pen back in her hair.
    â€œWe haven’t decided. Do you have a preference?” I expected her to go for the cop series, but she surprised me.
    â€œLincoln lawyer,” she said. “Then we can watch the movie. That Matthew McConaughey has got It with a capital
I
.”
    I laughed, tickled that Mabel was still interested in“It,” and told her I’d let her know what book we picked out.
    Emerging onto the sidewalk, I dodged the skateboarder again and bumped squarely into Detective Lindell Hart. I recognized his smell before my eyes told me who it was. His arms caught me at the waist automatically and steadied me. His palms burned through my thin blouse to my skin. Was it my imagination, or did he hold on a few seconds longer than necessary?
    â€œSorry,” I said, stepping back. “Someone should give that kid a ticket.”
    Hart smiled, like he’d forgotten he was disappointed in me, and said, “Officer Bradford talked to him. The kid’s here with his parents for a week. Tourists. The town council has asked us not to discourage tourism, so . . .”
    â€œI signed my statement,” I said, then could have hit myself for reminding him that he was mad at me.
    No anger showed on his face. The breeze riffled his brown curls. “Thanks.”
    â€œI’m really sor—”
    â€œOver and done with,” he said, not letting me finish another apology. “I might have done the same if it was my brother.”
    I didn’t believe that, but happiness bubbled throughme, making me feel lighter. I smiled. “Over and done with,” I agreed.
    â€œWhat do you have going on tonight?”
    â€œA retirement for the school superintendent,” I said regretfully. Was his question a precursor to asking me out? “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, I could make you dinner,” I heard myself offer before I thought it through. What was I thinking? I wasn’t much of a cook. He’d think I was too pushy. We weren’t—
    â€œSounds great,” Hart said immediately. “No job talk, though. Nothing about your brother, or the case.”
    â€œCross my heart,” I said, making the familiar gesture.
    Taking me by surprise, he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “I’ll bring the wine.”
    Before I could react, he disappeared into the building, whistling.

Chapter 9
    T he retirement roast Saturday night went off without a hitch, thank goodness. Eventful! couldn’t stand another evening like last night. As Al and I watched from the back of the musty-smelling auditorium while various teachers and principals shared