Morning Cup of Murder by Vanessa Gray Bartal Page A

you’re not interested. He’s staring at us through the patrol room window.”
    She fought the urge to turn and look. “What’s he doing here, anyway? He doesn’t usually come in until noon.” She tried to subdue her own blush at the realization that she had Jason’s schedule memorized.
    “He’s working overtime.” Travis opened the door and stepped out. “See you Lacy.”
    “See you, Travis,” she said. She waited until he closed the door and stepped onto the curb before she allowed herself to look toward the patrol room. She couldn’t see Jason, but she did see the rustling of the mini blinds as they settled back into place.
     

Chapter 6
     
    Six hours later, Lacy arrived home exhausted and drained. She had spent the afternoon interviewing Barbara Blake’s neighbors as well as her grandmother’s group of friends. Then she called and harassed Detective Brenner’s secretary until she put her through to the detective. He had been surly and hateful, giving her only the sketchiest of details in the case, but it had been enough for Lacy to write the story for the paper and make her three o’clock deadline.
    In the end, she had cobbled together enough facts to make a decent story. Len, the newspaper editor, had been duly impressed with her work and offered to call her whenever a story popped up. At any other time, Lacy would have been pleased to have located another source of income, no matter how small. But not now. Now she was frustrated and disappointed. While Lacy had established the rough facts of Barbara Blake’s life and death, she hadn’t found anything that would establish a connection between the deceased woman and her grandmother. She also hadn’t uncovered a motive for the murder or any other suspects.
    The remainder of her grandmother’s friends protested her incarceration and repeated the same things that Gladys had told Lacy early that morning. Barbara had been a horrible woman. None of them had seen her since high school, and they were all certain there was no connection between her and Lucinda Craig, Lacy’s grandmother. But, like Gladys, all of them had been cagey and nervous. And their stories were so similar that Lacy had the vague impression that they were rehearsed.
    Nothing made sense to Lacy, and there was such a lag in information that there was no possible way to make sense of the few facts she possessed. For tonight she wanted nothing more than to go for a run, take a shower, then crash in her soft warm bed and lose herself in the oblivion of sleep.
    Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be. As soon as she pulled into her driveway, she noticed a man standing on the front porch. At first her traitorous heart began to thump hard in anticipation. Jason? Had he come to make amends? But, no, it wasn’t Jason. This man was taller and his hair was lighter and longer. Then it hit her. She knew who he was, and she knew why he was here.
    He turned to her with a smile as she slammed out of her car and bounded up the steps. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to cut him off. “You can tell your boss that I don’t want to hire him. If he were the last lawyer on the planet, I would rot in prison. Don’t call here again. Don’t step foot on my property. In fact, don’t even look at me. I’m going to go inside and if you’re still here in thirty seconds, I am calling the police to have you forcibly removed.” By the time she finished her speech, she was practically panting with anger. It had felt a little too good to unleash her fury on this unsuspecting stranger, but at least she had made her point. Hopefully.
    He smiled. She geared up to yell at him again, but this time he was the one who held up his hand to halt her. “I should really wear this when I make calls,” he said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a clerical collar and secured it over his polo shirt. She stared at it, dumbfounded.
    “Please tell me this is some sort of ambulance-chasing lawyer trick to