The Detective

“I see that.”

The man wore a long wool coat over a suit. His close-cropped, graying hair gave him an edge of sophistication that topped off the whole “I have money” vibe. By the looks of him and the adorable dog, he was a neighbor. He held a mug in one hand, and the aroma of hazelnut reminded Lexi she hadn’t put anything into her system in nearly twelve hours. On the way home, she’d stop at the coffee shop and load up on caffeine and sugar. A chocolate croissant might do the trick. The man eyed her, then glanced back at the house. “Are you the real-estate agent?”

On the surface, the question seemed harmless, but Lexi had worked with enough gossipmongers to know her words could storm this community. “No. Not the real-estate agent.”

“Ah. The designer, then.” Mug in hand, he gestured down the block. “Phillips. We live two doors down. We heard Brenda hired someone to stage the house. It’s a rotten situation.”

The gossip trail. How she despised it. “It is indeed.”

But wait. He was a neighbor, presumably questioned by the police. Perhaps he saw or heard something that could help Brodey’s investigation along.

And get her back on schedule.

“Mr. Phillips, were you home the night Mr. Williams died?”

The tiny Yorkie nudged the leash and Phillips took three steps closer to the tree. “I was. The police talked to my wife and me.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No. Didn’t hear anything, either. With the increased security, we’re usually aware of problems, but it was quiet that night. Perplexing.”

Perplexing. Interesting word choice. And the cadence, so direct, pegged him as a lawyer or maybe an executive with a lot of authority.

“I see. Thank you.”

“Of course. When your work is complete, do you mind if my wife and I take a look? She wants to redo the kitchen.”

Lexi smiled. Crabby and dressed like a coed but somehow she might gain a client from this. “That would be up to Mrs. Williams, but I’d be happy to ask her if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

Once tucked into her car, Lexi jotted Mr. Phillips’s address and a note to herself to ask Brenda about him. Maybe she’d even be nice and share her conversation with Brodey. Maybe. For now, she needed food and a shower before her appointment in Lincoln Park. A quasi-appointment. Her college roommate, thanks to her new job as an on-air anchor for a local cable news station, had finally taken the plunge and bought a house. If it could be called a house. Sucked from the clutches of foreclosure, the three-story monstrosity needed loads of work.

Candace had recruited Lexi to help.

Ninety minutes later, Lexi knocked on Candace’s front door, where the knocker promptly fell off in her hand.

The door swung open. “Hi, doll.” Candace spotted the detached door knocker and plucked it from Lexi’s hand. “I forgot to warn you about that. I have a new one. I just don’t know how to install it.”

“I can do it. Do you have a drill?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Lexi laughed. “About me installing it or the drill?”

“The drill. You can do anything. Everyone knows that.”

“I love when you suck up.”

She swept her arm in a huge semicircle. “Welcome to paradise.”

Lexi glanced around the foyer, where fist-size holes marred the walls. Someone had done a number on the place. “If this is paradise, I want out.”

“I know. The old owners ripped every light fixture out. They even took the copper pipes. The place is an eyesore, but your very own Nate said it’s structurally sound. Don’t worry. All the mold has been removed.”

Mold. Dear God. “Excellent.”

“Thank you for squeezing me in.”

“It’s fine. I’m working on another project that suddenly has a delay. A delay by way of a hunky detective.”

Being a single and clock-ticking female, Candace pursed her lips. “Hunky detectives?”

“One hunky detective. Not plural.”

Candace rolled her bottom lip in disappointment and Lexi raised her hands. “Don’t stress. The way things are going, he and I don’t exactly agree, so he might be yours by default.”

“What happened?”

“It’s the Williams project. Brodey is on short-term disability leave—elbow surgery—from the police department. He’s a homicide detective.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly. Anyway, his sister, Jenna, is a private investigator Mrs. Williams hired to look into her husband’s murder. Jenna recruited him to help. The man is bored and has thrown himself into this. At this moment, he’s coming up with all the reasons I can’t demolish the laundry room.”

Candace folded her arms and leaned against a railing that looked barely stable enough to support its own weight, never mind hers. “And that’s killing your forty-five-day timeline.”

“Yes. Thank you! The hunky detective doesn’t seem to understand that I need to get this house sold. I want that bonus. The bonus gets me my assistant, a solid seven hours of sleep every night and time to clean out my garage so I can make it an office. I’m ready to collapse.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t cleaned that mess out. Hire someone to do it, for God’s sake.”

“No. There’s a ton of stuff in there from the old owner. There might be lost treasures I can use.”

Candace waved her to the kitchen. “I have a fresh pot on. You need to decompress for a few minutes before we get into this.”

That sounded heavenly. Decompression. With a pal. Realization hit that she’d spent the past months virtually ignoring her friends. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a bad friend.”

“Honey, you’re helping me with this pit and not charging me. You’re a great friend.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’ve been busy and haven’t made time for the people I care about. That’s not right.”

“So, you help sell the Williams place and hire an assistant. You’re fixing it. Don’t be hard on yourself because you’re ambitious. Now, back to more important matters. What’s up with this hunk? Has he discovered anything on the murder?”

They entered the kitchen, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee taunted Lexi’s senses. The surprisingly clean maple cabinets glowed, but the peeling linoleum counters had to go. The cabinets could probably stay, but not the linoleum. Candace filled two mugs and set one down next to the cream and sugar so Lexi could destroy a perfect cup of black coffee. Her friends knew her so well.