Murder in the Air by Ellen Hart

mansion. She was dressed so elegantly on Friday night and looked so regal, I assumed she was rich. As I sat in my car and watched her, I thought back to the names above Sally Nash's mail slot. I wished now that I'd taken better notice of them. Kay might verywell be one of her roommates. But any way you sliced it, Kay was a link to Sally. I decided to take a chance and follow her. My meeting could wait.
    Fifteen minutes later she got off the bus on Eighth and Hennepin and walked several blocks to Marquette Avenue, where she entered Manderbach's downtown Minneapolis store. I parked across the street, fed some nickels into the meter, and headed inside myself I quickly spotted her stepping onto one of the elevators. I ran to catch up, but the doors closed in my face. Feeling incredibly frustrated, I got on the next available car and then got off on the third floor
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women's clothing. I figured that was a good bet. I hurried through the various departments, but again struck out. After dashing around madly for the next half hour, I gave up and took the elevator back downstairs. I had nothing to show for the morning except an acid stomach and a bad case of caffeine jitters.
    As I charged through the cosmetics department I stopped dead in my tracks. There she was, standing behind the counter, showing a fancy bottle of perfume to an elderly woman. I mean, I was floored. Kay Collins was a salesgirl? Again, this didn't fit my image of her. Right then and there I settled myself down. Romantic notions or no romantic notions, Kay was obviously nothing like the way I'd envisioned her. She lived in a modest apartment and she worked in a department store.
    I waited until she was done with her sale and then walked up and pointed to a couple of the bottles. Actually, I'd been meaning to get Mitzi something for her birthday
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which, of course, reminded me that I had no business being attracted to another woman. As you may or may not know, Mitzi and I, though not officially engaged, had talked about getting married. I assumed she'd filled you in on the big news because it seemed to me that at her birthday party in late September, you were just bursting with joy that your oldest son was about to tie the knot. I never confirmed or denied it, because by then I wasn't sure it was what I wanted. Unfortunately, I didn't tell Mitzi about Kay.
    And, much to my later embarrassment, I didn't tell Kay about Mitzi.
    That morning, standing in front of the perfume counter, I convinced myself that talking to Kay was simply part the research I needed to do on a potentially hot story.
    Kay was polite and helpful. She found me just the right scent in a price I could afford. When she asked who it was for, I said it was for my mother. She smiled and told me I was a thoughtful son, though I'm not sure he entirely believed me. I tried as hard as I could to engage her in a conversation. I can be pretty charming when I want to be, and whatever I said, it must have worked. She agreed to have dinner with me the following evening.
    When I came to pick her up, I found that she did indeed share an apartment with two other women. Both Sally and Jonnie were sitting on the couch when I arrived, but thank God, neither of them recognized me. I'd spoken to Jonnie on the phone, but it had been brief and I hadn't given her my real name. Sally, on the other hand, had seen me face-to-face at the Westgate, but since she'd been pretty smashed, she didn't connect the dots.
    As you might imagine, I breathed a sigh of relief when Kay and I finally left. I wanted to get to know her better, pump her for information, but subtly. I figured that if Kay thought I was using her to get the lowdown on Sally, she d not only be angry, but she'd dump me without so much as a backward glance. Taking Kay out, showing her a good time, easing slowly into a friendship was simply good investigative journalism. I was protecting myself, and my story.
    Three weeks later, after our tenth date, I knew better