I try to hide my sigh. I hope the fabulous detective realizes that Alistair Carpenter is in a food truck with a number of pans and knives he could wield at his every whim. So Drake has a gun, but that isn’t much good if you have a frying pan flying at your head.
Of course I’m being melodramatic, but what part of “he likes me” didn’t he understand? I could flirt the answers out of the guy and he wouldn’t realize until later on today.
But no. Neanderthal Detective Nash strikes again.
He Drake. He police officer. He no listen to woman. Roar.
He’s gonna roar his way to his only orgasm being a tug in the shower if he keeps this up.
“The late Dina White?” Alistair pauses, his hands wrapped in a tea towel. “What do you mean the late Dina White?”
She wasn’t on time for, oh, the rest of her life, maybe?
Shit. I didn’t say that out loud, did I?
I glance at Drake. He’s not glaring at me like he wants to duct-tape my mouth shut, so no, I didn’t say it out loud. Phew. What do you know? Perhaps my brain-to-mouth filter just took twenty eight and a half years to grow properly.
“It means that her body was discovered in her apartment yesterday morning. We’re unsure regarding the circumstances surrounding her death, so we’re questioning anyone who may help us put her last few days together,” Drake lies smoothly. “We’ve been told that you had a personal relationship with the deceased. When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“Look, I don’t know who told you that, but they were lying.” Alistair snorts and drops the tea towel on the hot plate. “I only knew her through the fair. Just-in-passing kinda thing. We don’t tend to get close to the people in the towns we pass through ’cause we don’t stay long enough.”
My lips purse, and I immediately flatten them again. I cough and cover my mouth with my hand.
“The person who provided us the information was very sure,” Drake replies. “Perhaps they had you mistaken for someone else.”
“They probably did. Sorry.”
I cough again, this time lightly patting my chest.
Drake gives me a funny look. “Could you tell us the last time you saw Dina White? We know she went out of town, but we’re trying to put things into place before then,” he asks, looking back to Alistair.
“Geez,” he responds, glancing over our heads. “Musta been…Wednesday? I think. Sorry I can’t be clearer.”
Again, I cough.
Wow. This one isn’t so fake. I guess that’s what I get for not thinking my plans through.
The attempted cough to “clear” my throat gives me a real niggle, and another three coughs have my eyes watering.
“Noelle? Are you okay?” Drake asks, his eyebrows drawing together.
“Tickle in my throat,” I wheeze. I look at Alistair through teary eyes. “Can I have a bottle of water, please?”
“Sure. Hang on.” He pulls something from his pocket and bends forward. When he stands, I just make out the shape of a pocket knife in his hand. “I don’t have anything chilled yet though. Sorry.” He passes me a bottle, his fingers wrapped around the label.
“Thank you,” I whisper, taking it by the bottom and uncapping it. I take a mouthful and instantly feel better. “How much?”
“Don’t worry.” He waves it off. “That’d make me sick bastard if I charge a choking woman for a bottle of water.” He winks then faces Drake. “Is that everything, Detective? I need to get my stall ready for the day.”
“Yeah,” Drake says slowly, still eyeing me suspiciously. “Here’s my direct number. If you can think of exactly when you may have seen Dina White or anyone who may have, that’d be real helpful.”
“Sure thing.” Alistair slips it into his back pocket after giving it a glance. “See ya.”
Drake rests his hand on my back and guides me across the fair. He doesn’t say a word as we pass people setting up stalls. He doesn’t even look at me. Just steers me to where he wants me to go, which happens to be his truck.
“You got an evidence bag in there?” I ask, looking at the truck.
“The hell for?” Drake frowns at me. He’s doing a lot this morning. Oy vey.
I hold the water bottle up. “First thing I had Carlton run on Alistair was his record. He’s clean. Which means that, if the prints pulled from Dina’s are his, they won’t match anyone on the system. This label, however…”
“Has his prints,” he breathes. He looks at the bottle for a moment then up at me. “Have I ever told you that you’re fuckin’ brilliant?”
“No, but feel free to. I haven’t had my ego stroked today.” I grin.
He produces a bag from beneath the front passenger’s seat, and I drop the bottle into it.
“Y’all have my prints and DNA on file, but I didn’t touch the label anyway. You’re welcome. He also had a pocket knife and he used it to open the case. It kinda looked like the one that attacked me in the woods.”
He does that sexy halfgrin-half-smirk thing that gives me butterflies. Then he cups my chin and kisses me quickly. “Not bad for someone who hasn’t had her cupcake yet.” He puts the bag in the trunk and slams the door down.
I clear my throat. “About that cupcake.”
He sighs, but he’s smiling.
Bingo.
“I forgot to tell you, but Alistair is a big, fat, smelly liar.”
“Aside from the fact that I already figured that out for myself, I have to say your professional opinion is outstanding.”
“Shut up.” I grab a cupcake from the box and set it in front of me. “He was totally lying. It was written all over his face. He’s been bonking the heck outta Dina White.”
“So eloquent.”
“Are you just here to piss me off with dumb comments?”
Drake grins and leans forward. “Yes. We’re in your office. I have no idea why we’re in your office. This isn’t where the magic goes down.”
“There is no magic to go down,” I argue. “What’s going down is cupcakes, coffee, checks, and conversations with Alistair.”
“I like the alliteration. Is that your smart sentence for the day?”
“No, the smart sentence will be when I explain your dead body. You know, the one I’m going to dump in a barn full of cow crap.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Drake grins, grabbing a chocolate torte cupcake.
I lean forward on my desk and lift my raspberry-frosting-covered finger. “Two words. Dung. Beetle.”
He fakes a shiver and bites into his cake. Chocolate frosting covers his nose, and my smile is wide as I watch him attempt to wipe it off. He keeps missing a spot, and I lick my finger clean before reaching forward and scooping up that clump of chocolatey goodness that’s hanging out on his cheek. I glance at it, then him, then put my finger in my mouth.
Mmm. Chocolate.
“Is it bad if I think that was sexy?” he asks, his eyes on my mouth.
“We’re supposed to be working. You know. Finding people who kill people?”
“You ever watched a shit-hot woman lick frosting from her finger?”
“Well, yeah. I look in the mirror, you know?”
“You watch yourself eat cupcakes?”
I grab my cake and lift it. “Look at that. Sexy. As. Fuck.”
He glances between the cake and me then finally settles on me. “You have a cupcake problem.”
“You call it a problem. I call it love. It is what it is.” I shrug a shoulder. “So, what do we do about Alistair?”
“I’m waiting to see if prints can be lifted from the bottle, but they’re pretty sure they can get even a partial one that will be enough for a match. We sent it in on a rush, and since these cases are the priority, we’ll know within an hour if we have it. If it matches, we can bring him in for questioning because it proves he lied.”
“It’ll match. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, my little human lie detector.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Hush. I still feel like we’re missing something.”
“You’ll be missing your waistline if you open a third cupcake.”
My hand is hovering over the lemon one, and damn it, he’s right. I slide my hand back across my desk, away from the cupcakes, and sit on it. Then I sit on the other for good measure. Who knows what they’ll do when I’m paying attention?