called José. He picked up on the second ring. “Did you ever talk to Gerald?”
“No. And he wasn’t in his office. But I found the door wide open, the light on, and he’s not answering his phone.”
“Shoot,” I said. “Where is he? I’m worried sick.”
José said, “When my sisters or I were troubled, my mother used to quote Erma Bombeck ‘Worry is like a rocking chair: it gives you something to do but never gets you anywhere.’ I’m not sure if that helps you at all.”
“I’m old, widowed and soon to be retired. Rocking chairs come with the package,” I said.
He laughed, “What I’m trying to say is, chill. Remember he is innocent—”
“—Until proven guilty,” I finished.
“Correct. So please promise me you’ll take a back seat on this and let me do my work, okay? This is my job, not yours.” José said, “Listen, I’m at the precinct now—I have to go.”
I hung up and told Bezu what José said.
“Can you really just sit back and do nothing?” Bezu asked.
“Heck, no,” I said.
She grinned. “That’s what I thought.”
“How can I? Number one, this happened at my campus, on my watch. Number two, a team leader is dead. And number three, a judge, my friend, could be a suspect.”
“Okay. However, you’re not trained in detective work.”
“If I recall correctly, while I was away in Chapel Hill, Mr. Phong died in your house. Didn’t you become an amateur sleuth to figure out who caused his death?” I asked.
“Yes that’s all true. I had to. But, Cat and I got in a lot of trouble and were nearly lynched by the killer.” She put a hand to her neck. “I mean, in the end it all worked out.”
“Yes it did,” I said. “I miss Cat. I know she’s having a great time in Korea with her family. Well deserved too, after the long hours they spend running their store. But all the same, I wish she were here. She and I were quite a team when we solved Lucy’s murder.” A pang ricocheted in my chest. One of our own had passed. I still missed her, too.
Bezu said, “Our sweet, dear fifth member of the Chubby Chicks Club.”
In silence we held each other’s hand.
“I know exactly what I need to do now,” I said.
“Leave it to the police.”
“No.” I straightened my back. “This matters too much to me. I need to solve this myself.”
“Good gracious.” Bezu exhaled.
“You could be my sidekick, like Donkey is to Shrek,” I said.
“Great, and I have a feeling if I agree to do this with you I will be the ass.” She smiled and rolled her eyes.
I chuckled. “Glad to have you on my team.”
Chapter Eight
Bezu and I hit the stairs, and we did, indeed, find Gerald’s office door ajar. We let ourselves in.
“What am I looking for exactly?” she asked.
“Anything at all that could prove Gerald’s innocence,” I answered.
“But what if I find the opposite? Like a smoking gun, so to speak?” Bezu picked up some papers and moved them around on his desk.
I turned around and scanned the bookshelf. “Then we figure that out if, and when, that happens. But I really doubt we’ll find anything here.”
“I do hope that your boyfriend had nothing to do with Priscilla’s death,” Bezu said.
“Firstly, he is a boy and a friend, not the words together. There is a space between boy and friend. Okay?”
“Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why isn’t he more than just a friend?”
I turned my hands up. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Look at me.”
She ran her gaze up and down me. “I am. And I see a gorgeous, smart, incredibly funny lady who anyone would be honored to have as their honey.”
Turning my back on Bezu, I continued my search on the bookshelf. “You must be looking through rose-colored eyeballs or something. I’m an old, frumpy put-out-to-pasture widow.”
“By the way, I found—” Bezu stopped as she slid something in the pocket of her dress.
“May I help you, ladies?” Gerald stood at the doorway.
I swallowed hard as
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