The Last Cheerleader. Meg O'Brien

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      I reached for my purse on the table and stood. “Unless you intend to arrest me,” I said firmly, “I’m leaving. I have work to do.”

      It was a bluff, but a safe one. If he’d had enough evidence to hold me, I’d be booked and behind bars by now.

      The lieutenant smiled, but it was a tight smile, not quite making it to his eyes. I noticed that his teeth were very white against his tanned skin, and that there was an odd little scar on his left cheek. Overall he might be considered quite handsome, but the eyes took away from that. They were all business, not giving anything up.

      “I have to ask you not to leave town,” he said.

      “I wasn’t planning to,” I answered.

      He nodded and stood. “I’ll walk you out.”

      I stopped by the office before heading home, and found Nia still there. She hadn’t left at three after all, but was in my workout room, which connected to the office. She was sweating away on the exercise bike, a cordless phone from the office on the floor. The door from the workout room to the reception room was open, which meant that she’d been listening for anyone who might walk in.

      “Hi,” I said, dropping my purse on a chair and stepping behind the Chinese screen that served as a changing room. Pulling off my suit and tugging on workout clothes, I did my usual stretching exercises, then climbed on the treadmill next to Nia and started it up.

      “Anything new?” I asked.

      “I talked to Paul Whitmore after your last call about Craig, and it was weird. After how hot he seemed for Craig’s new book, he didn’t sound all that upset to hear he was dead.”

      “Really? How did he sound?”

      “Quiet. Didn’t say much, just to tell you he was sorry to hear it. Hung up rather quickly.”

      “Hmm. He was probably signing another author already. Whatever it takes to keep the coffers filled.”

      Not that I was anyone to talk. I’d been worrying a bit about my own coffers.

      “And a Detective Rucker came by,” Nia said. “Yum!”

      “Yum?”

      She rolled her eyes. “Oh, God, don’t tell me you didn’t notice. That curly hair, and those gorgeous white teeth.”

      I studied my teeth in the wall of mirrors in front of us. “You know something? Everybody has white teeth these days. Ever since all those actors started having their teeth whitened, everybody you meet hassuper-white teeth. If they all got together in a room and smiled, they’d blind each other.”

      “Yeah. Well, don’t laugh, okay? I’m thinking of getting mine done, too.”

      “You’re kidding. Your teeth are already white enough. You’re beautiful, Nia. Don’t you know that?”

      “Not in the teeth,” she said. “They’re more a sort of off-white. How can I ever compete in the date market with off-white teeth?”

      “True,” I said in a hopeless tone. “I can see it all now. You as an old maid, living a joyless, loveless life with only your cat and your off-white teeth.”

      She groaned. “That so possible, it isn’t even funny.”

      I slowed down my pace. “So you think Dan Rucker’s hot?”

      “Well, I didn’t say he’s hot. I just think he looks like he could be, under that untidy disguise. What do you think?”

      I shrugged. “I didn’t like his attitude.”

      “Figures. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and I doubt he’s gay. Why would you like him?”

      “Oh, shut up.”

      We worked out silently for a while, until Nia said, “Why do I feel like I’m riding a horse? This seat hurts like hell.”

      “You want me to get a recumbent?”

      “Really? You’d do that?”

      “Anything for you, my treasure trove.”

      Nia was so good at her work, I had been thinking of making her a partner. I thought that I’d better wait though, to see how things went with Craig’s book and my income from it. Would Whitmore withdraw his offer now, or still publish it?

      My guess was that since the book was finished, he’d go ahead and publish it. But could I still legally represent Craig in the sale? I’d never had a situation like this before, but I knew my contract with Craig gave me the right to sign for him if for some reason he wasn’t able to. For instance, if he’d just been impossible to reach and I had a great offer like the one from Whitmore, I could have signed for Craig rather than risk his losing the contract.

      But what about when he was dead?

      Damn. I wished now that I’d accepted the seven-figure offer from Whitmore that morning.

      “By the way,” Nia said, breaking into my thoughts, “he’s coming back.”

      “Who?”

      “Detective Rucker. He called a little while ago and said he’d be coming back.”

      “To see me?”

      “What else? He’s already seen me, and I don’t recall any rings or bended knees.”

      “What does he want?” I asked, frowning.

      “I don’t know. He just said he had a few questions.”

      “But how did he know I’d be here, when I didn’t know it myself until I left El Segundo?”

      She grinned. “Maybe you’re star-crossed lovers, meant to be together from the beginning of time. Like, he just knew.”

      “Oh, right. More likely he was following me. Or having me followed. I’ll bet he called you from the cell phone in his car, not twenty feet behind me.”

      “Wow. He must really want to see you again, if that’s the case,” Nia said, laughing.

      I couldn’t help laughing, too. “Hardly. The El Segundo police are ready to arrest me, now that I’ve got bodies falling on the ground all around me. Detective Rucker probably wants to be the first to arrive with handcuffs.”

      “Handcuffs, eh? Now there’s a picture worth taking.”

      “Oh, stop it!” I took the towel off my shoulder and wiped my face and neck with it. Bending over, I reached for my water bottle on the floor. I was standing with my back to the door, my butt in the air, when I heard from behind me, “No cuffs this time. If that’s what you like, though, I’ll make a note of it.”

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