The Pajama Affair by Vanessa Gray Bartal Page B

decorated. She had the highest credit score of anyone he had ever investigated and he saw how; she lived within her means. It was a simple concept, but one most people failed to grasp.
    She set the burger in front of him, and he was pleased to see she made one for herself. He hated to eat alone. She sat, closed her eyes, and moved her lips.
    “Were you praying?” he asked as soon as she opened her eyes.
    “Yes. Does that offend you?”
    “No, it surprises me, and not much does anymore.”
    She shrugged. “My dad’s a pastor. I wouldn’t think it would come as a great shock.”
    “I once worked a case where a pastor’s kid killed three people in their sleep.”
    She blinked at him and worked to clear the mental image from her thoughts. “Pastor’s kids are either very good or very bad, they say.” She smiled. “Except for me and my brother. We’re both disgustingly good.”
    That’s what you think , he thought, but of course he didn’t say it.
    They finished eating in strangely comfortable silence. She handed him a napkin before he could ask, and he used it to wipe his hands and face.
    “Why don’t you show me your bedroom?” he suggested. Her mouth fell and he actually found himself blushing. “The place where you found the tape,” he added.
    She relaxed visibly and even smiled at him. “You don’t have to do this. I get it; you’re sorry. You don’t have to humor me.”
    “I’m not humoring you,” he said flatly. “At first I was, but then on a hunch I decided to drive by an address; Ten James Street . No one was more surprised than me to find a half dozen police cars on the scene.” He broke away from her and looked toward the sink. “The officer in charge wasn’t happy when I guessed there had been a murder in apartment 2C , but he was glad I could pin down the exact time of death to three PM.” He looked at her then and wished he hadn’t been so blunt. The meal and pleasant atmosphere made him forget he was talking to a civilian. He should have been more delicate. “Are you all right?”
    She was as white as the painted cupboards behind her. He tensed, ready to spring forward and catch her if she fell over.
    She nodded and swallowed a few times. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” Her voice was unsteady. “Someone left a message inside my pajamas about a murder that hadn’t happened yet.”
    “No,” he drawled. “Someone left instructions about a murder to be performed. It was clearly a professional hit.”
    She swayed and gripped the table. “A murderer stole my pajamas,” she whispered.
    “Show me your room,” he commanded gently.
    She nodded absently and stood shakily to her feet. He was beside her in an instant and used his hand to press against the small of her back to steady her. She drew in a breath and flushed before gently easing away from his touch.
    “This way,” she said.
    He followed her to the bedroom, not sure why he was frowning at her back.

Chapter 7
     
    Liza couldn’t shake the feeling that she was dreaming. She focused on the man now rifling through her underwear. That part was reality. She knew because she would never dream something so embarrassing.
    “Everything is clean,” he announced.
    “Of course it’s clean,” she said. “I would never put dirty underpants in my drawer.”
    He turned away to hide his smile, but she still saw it. “That, uh, wasn’t what I meant. Whoever has been here didn’t leave any traces of his presence.” He turned to face her again. “Is there anyone who might have seen someone enter or leave your house?”
    “My neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins. She watches me like it’s her job.”
    “Don’t knock busybody neighbors. I would be lost without them in my line of work.” He closed the drawer. A pair of black underpants impeded his progress, so he stuck his hand in to try and tug them free.
    “Leave them,” she choked. She was sure her face was puce by now.
    He nodded and coughed. The cough sounded suspiciously