The Focaccia Fatality by J. M. Griffin Page B

wasn’t front and center, but lingered in the background. My contact said she was a mover and shaker when it came to his political career. His wife was willing to be at his side, but nothing more.”
    Scrolling through her pictures again, Vinnie showed me Hardin’s wife. “She’s mousy, but a makeover would have turned her into a reasonably good looking woman. Washington would have been the place for that to happen. In D.C., the wives are in the habit of presenting a well-coiffed appearance, much like movie stars do at award ceremonies.” Vinnie snickered. “Was she at the party?”
    I thought long and hard while I chewed the last remnant of the calzone crust. I shook my head and swallowed. “I don’t think I saw her there. There were a ton of guests wandering about. I may have missed her,” I said with a shrug.
    “Think hard, Melina,” BettyJo insisted. “If we can put her there, the cops might be interested in knowing.”
    I shrugged and said I hadn’t seen her.
    Vinnie leaned back in her chair, glanced at BettyJo, and then focused on me. “I take it Porter Anderson has the lead in this investigation?”
    “Seems so,” I answered. “Have you ever seen his boss? He looks like Captain Hook,” I added.
    The sound of her laughter brought on my own, and that of BettyJo’s as Vinnie twirled the ends of a non-existent mustache. We’d laughed long and hard until my cell phone jingled.
    I stared at the phone screen and showed it to the others. “Speak of the devil,” I remarked in a dry tone before taking the call.
    I heard Porter say, “Don’t you answer your door?
    “Sorry, I didn’t hear you knock,” I said.
    “Let me in. I have something to tell you.”
    “You’re not arresting me for anything, right?” I asked as I clomped down the stairs.
    “No, just open the door.”
    We were looking at one another through the kitchen window. I smiled, he didn’t. Yikes.

Chapter 6
    Once Porter entered, I beckoned him upstairs. His eyes widened a tad, but he followed me. The room was quiet until he stepped inside. Vinnie gave him a wide smile, while BettyJo invited him to take a seat.
    “You’re just in time, Detective. We were talking about you just before you called. Perfect timing,” she said.
    His brows rose, his eyes scanned the three of us, and he waited. It was a cop thing. They wait, and wait, and, well, you get the idea. They figure you’ll crack sooner or later. His gaze landed on Vinnie and stayed there. When she didn’t utter a sound, he said, “What’s this all about?”
    “We know who the blonde is,” Vinnie said.
    “So do I,” he remarked. “Eliza Vanderkemp is her name. How did you find out? No, never mind, Vin,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to know.”
    “That’s not all,” I interrupted. “She’d had a fling with Joshua Hardin, the bloodhound look-alike I told you about.”
    He inclined his head, gave a light sigh, and asked, “Uh, huh, what else?”
    “Instead of Melina telling you, why don’t you share what you know and get it over with?” BettyJo asked shortly.
    “I can’t tell you what I know. It might compromise the case. I will say this, Melina, you need to stop poking around.” Porter glared meaningfully at Vinnie and said, “That goes for you, too, Miss-I’m-So-Curious.”
    Her smile grew into a chuckle while she shook her head. “You know me better than that, Porter. Honestly, though, I have no gain here except to help Melina out. I’m not involved, nor do I wish to be. I merely did a favor for a friend. Satisfied?”
    “Glad to hear it. The same goes for you, BettyJo,” Porter warned. “Stay out of my investigation. I refuse to have the case compromised because you three can’t mind your own business.”
    Before BettyJo could say a word, I intervened. “Fine, we’ll stay out of it, as long as you make it perfectly clear to Hardin and Gallagher that they should leave me alone.”
    Porter slanted a look in my direction. “What