Hometown Detective. Jennifer Morey

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      “I’ll have what she’s having,” Roman said, continuing to observe the pub and its inhabitants.

      The bartender returned with frosty mugs of beer.

      “Imported lager,” she said, sipping. “Mmm.”

      “Do you come here because he buys your flowers or for the beer?” he asked.

      She smiled, her bright and sunny personality shining through. “Both. Pete’s a good guy.”

      “What about the baker?”

      “He and his wife are kindhearted people who love each other. Most of us can only wish we were as lucky.”

      She seemed so humble for one who had so much. Uncomfortable with the spark that zapped him unexpectedly, Roman tasted the beer. Not bad. A little light, but not bad.

      Her cheerful glow remained and she leaned back, drawing his attention to her teasingly concealed breasts. Why was he so attracted to her? He’d met pretty women like her before. What make her so different? If she was a cop or another detective, or anyone who worked in the trenches like him, he might understand these stirrings of desire. But she didn’t work in the trenches. She had created a perfect world for herself, even surrounding herself with friends like Pete.

      Time to slow down this Cupid’s arrow. What better way than to beat her at a game of pool?

      Standing, he picked up his beer. “You any good at pool?” He started for the single pool table, neglected on dart tournament night.

      Lingering behind a second or two, she at last took her beer and followed. Her slow steps and curious eyes said she suspected his motives. Was this about pool or was this about the two of them?

      “I thought we were going to discuss my sister’s case.” She stopped near him beside the pool table.

      He choose a cue stick, ignoring how she kept calling her sister’s death a case. He hadn’t decided if it was one or not. “I’d like to get to know my new client before we get into death and destruction.”

      “Does that mean you’re going to take the case?”

      He had to admit, she had a strong theory that Kaelyn might have intended to run away and live near her secret twin. Kendra hadn’t been mentioned anywhere in any reports he’d read.

      “Let’s play pool.” He grinned in a way that often wooed women.

      She eyed him warily—she didn’t trust easily. He began to pick up on those undercurrents. She wanted to talk about Kaelyn Johnston’s death, and he wanted to slow things down. She must know or have some idea that he was attracted to her.

      Finally, her cautious nature eased a little and she stepped forward to put coins in the old game table. Bent over as she inserted the coins, her eyes lifted and he saw a mischievous smile in them.

      “I’m really good at this game,” she said.

      Delighted she’d relented and decided to have some fun, he said with equal flirtation, “Let’s find out how good.”

      He racked the balls while she chose a stick. He liked watching her move, graceful arms and legs and a shapely butt.

      Facing him with a stick, she chalked the end and looked at him.

      “You break,” he said.

      “You are so going to lose.”

      Roman chuckled as he watched her break the balls and sink a solid. Moving around the table for her next shot, she gave him another nice view of her posterior as she made another shot. She sank another solid.

      “When Kaelyn and I were six, I remember I was inside playing with dolls and she got mad at me for not wanting to go outside and play on the swing set.” She lowered into position for a more complicated shot and sank yet another solid.

      He began to wonder if he’d ever get to play.

      “She went outside by herself.” Kendra studied the table for her next shot. “After a while, I stopped playing dolls because I had this awful feeling. My first thought was of Kaelyn.” She poised for another shot and missed this time. Unfazed, she faced him. “I left the bedroom we shared and went to the back door. My mother was out there and lifted Kaelyn. She had blood all over her face. My parents rushed her to the hospital and she had seventeen stitches put in her forehead. She pushed the double swing and it swung back and struck her. I felt so bad after that. If I’d have been with her, she wouldn’t have been hurt.”

      What was the point of this story? He didn’t ask.

      “I felt that way on and off after we were split up, but I attributed it to my own situation. I felt that way again the day Kaelyn died.”

      Roman kept his expression carefully blank. She had a bad feeling the day Kaelyn killed herself? Is that why she thought her twin sister had been murdered? He didn’t do weird. Maybe he should have stuck with meeting for coffee in the morning, report ready and in hand.

      “Except this feeling was different. Instead of worry over Kaelyn being hurt, I felt an element of danger, as though Kaelyn might be in bad trouble. I can’t explain it. I only know what I felt, and there can be no coincidence because my twin sister died that day, maybe just shortly after. I felt that way for nearly an hour, and then the feeling sort of...faded. I tried calling and she didn’t answer. The next day, I finally reached her adoptive mother, who told me she’d killed herself.”

      Roman wouldn’t comment on what he thought of telepathic twins, or their ability to possess extrasensory perception. He didn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural, but he also didn’t disbelieve. She stepped back from the table. “It’s your turn.”

      He chose his shot and aimed, missing by an inch. “Where are you from?”

      Instead of answering, she studied him awhile. “Why am I getting this feeling you’re trying to make a move on me instead of helping solve Kaelyn’s murder?”

      He grinned again and this time not to woo her. She’d made him grin with her wit. No man fooled this woman. He felt attraction mushroom to the realm of uncontrollable.

      “Your turn.”

      After a knowing, soft smile, she studied the table, and then went to bend for her shot and made it. “I was born in Chicago.”

      “Your family moved here after that?”

      “No.” Pausing for her next shot, she straightened and looked at him. “Our parents were killed in a mass shooting.”

      He didn’t hear that often. Not ever. “That’s terrible.” Now he knew why she and Kaelyn had been apart.

      “We were in a bank when some robbers came in with guns. Kaelyn and I got to the floor like Mother said. Our dad tried to stop the robbers and our mother tried to stop him from stopping the robbers. They were shot.”

      While he tried to imagine how awful that would be, she made another solid and walked around the table to choose her next move. Did nothing ruffle this woman or was she just calculating?

      “That СКАЧАТЬ