Watchin' The Detective: A Mystery Dinner Romance by Louise Hathaway Page A

relief.”
    Isabella tells her friend about her dinner
the night before with the detective.
    Nicole says, “It sounds like he wants you as
much as you want him.”
    Isabella tells her about her scare yesterday
when she was getting a mammogram.
    Her friend scolds her, “Why didn’t you tell
me you had a lump on your breast?”
    “I just wished it would go away.”
    “I’m so glad you’re okay!”
    “Me, too. I got big plans with these girls,”
Isabella says, looking down her low-necked blouse and cupping her
breasts.
    They both start laughing.
    Their conversation is interrupted by a patron
who says that the copier has a paper jam. Isabella looks sheepishly
over at Nicole. I hope he didn’t overhear me saying
that.
     
    *******
     
    That night, Isabella can’t stop thinking
about her detective. She wants to call him, but can’t come up with
a good excuse. It would be so nice if I could just bump into him
somewhere. But where? Outside the police station would appear like
I am stalking him. I don’t want to scare him away. Then, she
gets an inspiration. He told me that he likes Sarducci’s. Maybe
I might see him there? It’s a long shot, but I like going to San
Juan Capistrano anyway.
    She gets a further inspiration. Why don’t
I take the train down there? It will feel like I’m on
vacation . That settles it and off she goes to the train
depot.

C hapter Twenty-One
     
     
    Isabella has loved coming to the new train
depot in Santa Ana ever since it first opened. It is a
beautifully-designed building that reminds her of some of the
Spanish-style buildings in Santa Barbara. It’s adorned with
colorful mosaic tiles and has coffered ceilings. She sits in the
courtyard and waits for her train—The Pacific Surfliner. While
looking around, she sees a wide array of passengers: from a tired
looking man with one hand on a cane and another holding a suitcase;
to a little girl with Hello Kitty overnight bags who’s probably
going to the San Diego Zoo or Sea World; to tipsy and giggling
ladies wearing outrageous hats who are probably on their way to the
horse races at Del Mar; and a Franciscan brother wearing a white
robe, sandals, and wooden rosary beads that are hanging down from
his waist. The station announcer’s voice is muffled and no one can
tell if he’s speaking Spanish or English. When everyone sees the
southbound train approach, there’s a mad dash to get on board and
be among the lucky who get window seats with views of the ocean.
Isabella is one of the lucky ones, and sits next to a window. The
train resumes its journey and she watches the graffiti-covered
warehouses go by, then the blimp hangars, and then the few
remaining strawberry fields. The distance to San Juan Capistrano is
about twenty-three miles and the train ride takes about thirty
minutes to get there. When the train slows down to enter the depot
in San Juan Capistrano, Isabella sees a little neighborhood next to
it that has restaurants that look like trendy wooden shacks. She
also sees gardens with palm and banana trees, cactus and
bougainvillea bushes.
    The train door opens and she’s terrified to
see a two-foot drop without any stairs. She’s wearing spiked heels
and would’ve fallen off the train and twisted her ankle if it
wasn’t for a kind elderly man with a cane who offered his other
hand to help her get off. After thanking him profusely, she walks
over to the restaurant and parks herself at a table in the
courtyard next to the fountain.
    The waiter sees her and comes over to ask her
if she’d like anything to drink. She orders a Chardonnay and the
tilapia with mango sauce entrée. She watches all the busy travelers
waiting for the next train. She loves all the hustle and bustle,
and the sound of the bells that signal the approach of a new train
coming into the station. A Metrolink train approaches and its
brakes screech as it comes to a stop in front of the restaurant. In
about five minutes, she watches the arrival of the