in time. “But this kind of thing can just blow a man right out of the water. If, once he meets Sean, Dad loses it, he definitely won’t appreciate it happening in front of a room full of witnesses.”
Rose laughed. “Since when have we ever been able to fit all our relatives into just a room?” she asked.
“All right, I stand corrected. A house full of witnesses,” Andrew amended. “This is definitely one case of the less people being around for the grand reunion, the better.”
Rose pretended to be disappointed—but the hint of a grin gave her away. “And here I was, planning to sell tickets.”
“C’mere, woman.” Andrew laughed.
He gave her hand a quick tug and swept her onto his lap. He liked having her there just fine. In his mind, because he’d been given a second chance after doggedly searching for her all those years she’d had amnesia and been missing without realizing it, he still felt like a newlywed.
“Anyone ever tell you that you have a fresh mouth?” he asked Rose, doing his best to sound serious.
Rose laced her fingers together behind his neck as she made herself comfortable in her favorite “chair.” “Not that I recall,” she answered with a straight face. “Why? Do you want to sample it?”
The former chief of police grinned and looked every bit the boy whom she had first fallen in love with in second-period American English all those very many years ago.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said just before he kissed her and rocked her world.
Again.
Chapter 3
The good-looking man behind the bar whose biceps were more impressive than his brain cells frowned as he stared at the photograph Josh had placed on the counter in front of him. It was a photograph of the woman who had been found in the alley behind the club where he worked and even though the more gruesome aspects of the murder weren’t detailed, it was obvious that the woman was dead.
Shaking his head, the bartender, who claimed his name was Simon Quest, looked up at the two detectives.
“I’m a lot better with regulars,” he protested. “But yeah, I think she was here last night.”
My kingdom for a witness who actually witnessed something, Josh thought. The bartender sounded far from convincing. For now, he left the photograph on the bar, hoping that it still might jog Quest’s memory.
“Was anyone bothering her?” Josh asked the other man.
Quest shrugged, as if to dismiss the question, but then he stopped abruptly and pulled the photo over to study it.
Josh’s hope sank when he shook his head. “Not that I can recall. It was a happy crowd last night.”
Bridget glanced at the victim’s pale face. “I know at least one of them who didn’t stay that way,” she commented grimly.
“Can you remember anything at all about this woman?” Josh prodded Quest one last time. “Was she the life of the party? Was she in a corner, drinking by herself? Anything at all?” he stressed.
The bartender thought for a long moment; then his expression brightened. “I saw her talking to the people around her. They acted as if they all knew each other.” Pausing, he appeared as if he was trying to remember something.
When the silence went on too long, Bridget urged the man on. “What?”
“There was this one guy,” Simon responded slowly, as if he was envisioning the scene again. “He just kept staring at her.”
“Did he come up and talk to her?” Bridget asked eagerly.
Quest shook his head helplessly. “Not that I saw. It was big crowd,” he explained, then added, “and we were shorthanded last night.”
“What else can you remember about this guy?” Josh asked, hoping they could finally get something to go on.
“Nothing.” The bartender went back to drying the shot glasses that were all lined up in front of him like tiny, transparent soldiers. “He left.”
Maybe they could get a time frame, Bridget thought. “When?”
Quest set down another glass, then shrugged again. “I dunno. Around midnight. Maybe one o’clock. I remember she was gone when we closed down,” he volunteered, then ruined it by adding, “Can’t say when, though.”
This was getting them nowhere, Bridget thought. “Did she leave with anyone?”
The look on Quest’s face said he had no idea if the victim did or not. He lifted his wide shoulders and then let them drop again. “She was just gone.”
Ever hopeful, Bridget tried another approach. “This guy, the one who was staring at her, what did he look like?”
Quest exhaled a frustrated breath. It was obvious that he was regretting he’d ever mentioned the starer. “Just an average guy. Looked like he hadn’t cracked a smile in a real long time.”
Josh tried his hand at getting some kind of useful information out of the vacant-headed bartender. “Was he young, old, fat, skinny, long-haired, bald, white, black—polka dot,” he finally bit off in exasperation when the bartender made no indication that anything was ringing a bell.
“Just average,” Quest repeated. “Maybe he was forty, maybe not. He did have hair,” he recalled. “Kinda messy, like he was trying to look cool but he didn’t know how. And he was a white guy. He wasn’t a regular,” Simon emphasized proudly. “Or I would’ve recognized him.”
Well, he supposed at least it was something, Josh told himself. He took out one of his cards and placed it on the counter, even as he collected the photograph and tucked it back into his inside pocket.
“You think of anything else you forgot to mention, anything comes back to you—” he tapped the card with his finger “—call me.”
Quest shifted his glance toward Bridget. “I’d rather call her.”
Information was information, Bridget reasoned. Inclining her head in silent assent, she placed her card next to Josh’s on the shiny bar.
“Fine. Here’s my card. Just remember,” she informed the man cheerfully as she stepped back, “we’re a set.”
“He was trying to hit on you,” Josh told her as they walked out of the club three minutes later. The fact that it bothered him was only because he was being protective of his partner. Or so he told himself. Bridget seemed unaware that she had this aura of sexuality about her and it was up to him to make sure no one tried to take advantage of that.
Right, like she can’t take care of herself, Josh silently mocked himself.
He blew out a breath. Maybe he needed more aspirins to clear his head a little better.
Bridget headed straight for the car. “He’s lucky I didn’t hit him
