Too Sweet to Die by T. Doyle (the false prince .TXT) 📗

Ray’s shoulders rolled back. “We’re following some leads regarding Oscar’s death, especially since it looks like the murderer returned to the scene and took a picture of Drew, Joe, and Charlie.” He gave Tom a dead-eye glare, and even I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. “Good luck with your crockery caper.” Ray stepped around Tom and into the living room.

Tom turned cop eyes on me. “Charlie, I’m sorry you lost Oscar. But it was an accident. I cared for him, we all liked him. You go down this road and you may find things that will ruin his reputation and it’s not going to bring him back. Just stop now.”

I patted Tom’s arm. “I’ll stop when I find out the truth.”

Tom’s jaw hardened. “Maybe you ought to consider that if that photo was stolen, you could be the target. Just leave it alone, let us handle it, or you may end up with more than a restraining order.”

He was threatening me?

Joe’s arm hugged my waist and he pulled me against his chest. “You okay, honey? You look pale.”

I tilted my head back and kissed Joe’s jaw. “I’m okay. Tom’s angry because Ray and I are going to the casinos to investigate Oscar’s murder.”

“Death.” Tom’s shoulders stiffened, along with his jaw. “At least get the words right.”

“Tough election, Tom?” Joe’s usually easy-going tone sharpened, as if to cut through Tom’s evasion.

Tom slapped on a tight smile. “That’s not what this is about. Now, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I’m truly sorry about Oscar, but the medical examiner has ruled his death as accidental. I’m not investigating because it was an accident. You’ll have to trust me that if I thought we could pursue it, we would.” Tom rolled his shoulders. “I am sorry for your loss.” Tom thrust his hand forward.

Courteous, Joe shook his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

Tom nodded at me, turned and left.

My joints felt like they had grit between them, each movement wearing me away. My sciatica flared, reminding me I was old, numb, worn out. I was exhausted, but Joe was there, my foundation. He was sad but steady, mourning, but still Joe, capable and organized. Shaking hands and thanking people for sharing their grief with us.

I smiled, and cried, and hugged, and held my children tight and told them I loved them. Joe took me to bed and held me close all night.

Chapter Eight

We went to church as a family. The kids caught up with friends from town over donuts and juice in the parish hall, and then headed back to school. The house, hauntingly empty, smelled of bacon and pepperoni rolls and chili from the previous evening. The ghostly reminders of Oscar and the kids weighed on my shoulders.

Joe seemed to sense my gloom and wrapped me in his arms. “Babe, how about I take you someplace special today?”

“Where?” I leaned back and Joe’s impish smile made my heart beat a little faster.

“Sam’s club. We’re out of bacon and toilet paper.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You seducer.” I hugged him closer, my head resting in the crook of his neck, my favorite place to be, tucked in close enough to sync my heart with his steady beat.

Later, after we’d unpacked the groceries I still felt unsettled in the empty house.

“You know what would be good right now?” I sidled up to Joe and rubbed his shoulders.

“Pizza and beer?” He turned and pulled me close.

“It’s like you can read my mind.”

“I would hope so, after all these years.” He kissed my forehead.

I changed into my eating jeans, the ones with a little more room in the waist, and pulled on a soft sweater and wrapped a colorful scarf around my neck, to hide the inevitable food stains. Joe changed into a blue button-down shirt that made his eyes even bluer than normal.

“Keep looking at me like that and we’ll never get out of the house for date night.” Joe’s warm voice slid over me, suggestive and sweet.

We Knead Pizza, located downtown, was a favorite local watering hole. Packed on the weekends, we were lucky to get seats at the bar. The stone ovens radiated warmth and delicious scents and filled the place with a cozy, friendly ambience.

Kitchy signs hung on the walls with instructions like, Be Nice or Leave, and Wonder Woman is a state of mind. The colorful waitstaff moved at their own pace, which ensured good sales at the bar.

Joe sat facing the front door, nursing a microbrewed stout, and enjoying people watching.

“Kristi is here with Ray,” Joe’s low, smooth voice tickled my ear.

“No way.” I whipped around and waved. Kristi and I worked together for three years before she became a forensics nurse. “I wonder if Kristi knows anything about Oscar’s case?”

Kristi waved back and nudged Ray out of the way. She looked great, as always, casually dressed in jeans, a white blouse, and a chunky turquoise necklace. She pulled off cool confidence, making me feel like Betty to her Veronica.

Joe slid off his barstool and offered it to Kristi. He stood behind me, putting his proprietary hand on my shoulder.

I liked it. I tilted my head back and he kissed me quickly.

“How do you know Ray?” I asked.

“High school.” Kristi looked at the hostess stand, where the twenty-something mini-Kardashian wannabe leaned close to Ray, her hand pet his shirt. Ray might have even beard-scaped.

He gave the hostess a pirate wink and I groaned.

“He hasn’t changed much.” Kristi’s tone held amusement. “I don’t think he can help it. It’s like he has no flirting filter.”

“He’s never flirted with me.” I picked up my mug of Knead IPA and sipped.

“You’re married. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a poacher.” Kristi nodded to the bartender and pointed to my mug. “I’ll have the same.”

The bartender, man-bun, beard, and biceps of Thor, winked.

Kristi returned the gesture with