The Last First Date. Maggie Wells

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      “Ah, Detective. Thank goodness you are here,” Max said in his thick, accented English. “Arrest this thief. She has stolen from me for the last time.”

      Lang stared at the short, balding man until the accusation settled into the right slot in his mind. “Stolen from you?” He shifted his focus to his date and her name sprang to his lips. Apparently, all it took to make a forgettable woman unforgettable was a little petty larceny. “Kirsten?”

      She looked chagrined and the bright pink flush of guilt stained her cheeks. A twinge of oh-crap pinged his gut. Dread rooted him to the spot. He stared at his date, at a complete loss. The stomach-clenching realization that he might end up spending his only night off this week at the station left him rattled. Unable to look directly at the woman his grandmother had saddled him with, he ran a hand over his face. A movement to his right caught his attention. The woman with the dead battery climbed from her car and he groaned.

      “Excuse me!” Her voice carried on the wet wind, her strident tone matching the determined set of her mouth. She hugged herself hard, holding the sides of her puffy hot pink parka closed as she hop-skipped to the entrance. “I hate to interrupt,” she said in a tone that completely divorced her intent from the gist of the statement, “but if you could just loan me your cables, maybe I could get someone else to jump me.”

      Her choice of words intrigued him almost as much as the slightly snotty edge to her voice. Envy-inspiring track pants aside, this was clearly a woman accustomed to getting her way. And fairly quickly, he assumed, based on the waves of impatience radiating from her. He’d be damned if he let someone else jump her, especially with his cables.

      “I’m sorry, I have a situation here. If you could just wait—”

      But Miss INeedaJump was apparently out of patience. “Listen, I’m not trying to break up your little chitchat—”

      “I paid for the soda!”

      Kirsten’s indignant outburst captured his undivided attention. “Soda?” Senses tingling, Lang turned his questioning gaze back to his date. Sure enough, a bottle of diet soda dangled from her fingers. “I thought you said you wanted a pack of gum.”

      “She stole the gum. I saw her put it in the pocket of her coat. The value pack. Not the regular size.” Max added the last bit as if it would up the charge.

      Lang glared at Kirsten, determined to get to the bottom of this mess. “You stole a pack of gum but paid for a soda?”

      “She has done it before, Detective. That is how I knew to let Elena cover the register when this woman came into my store.” Max’s grip tightened on Kirsten’s elbow and she let out a yelp.

      Lang disengaged the other man’s hand and replaced it with his own. “I’ve got her.”

      The woman with the dead battery cast a glance at the rapidly emptying parking lot. His distressing damsel swallowed hard as she took in the semi-sketchy area. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on here, but do you have jumper cables I can use or not?”

      Lang paused for a moment, watching with detached fascination as their fellow patrons scattered like rats abandoning ship at the first sign of trouble. He glanced down, trying to come up with the right words to reassure her. Instead, he fixated on the way the woman’s pinkie toe poked through a hole in her canvas tennis shoe.

      “I demand that you arrest this woman.” Max said. “I wish to press charges.”

      Any chance for a pleasant evening deflated the moment he recognized the adamancy in the other man’s tone. First generation Americans harbored a firm and abiding belief in their adopted country’s judicial system, the kind of faith bred out of their native-born countrymen long ago. He turned to Max and made a last-ditch run at reason.

      “It was a pack of gum. How about she pays you for the gum—” he held up a hand to stave off another round of protests, “—plus a reasonable sum of restitution? Maybe, twenty dollars?” He cast a questioning glance in Kirsten’s direction in time to see her jaw drop.

      “Twenty dollars?” She gaped at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “It was only a pack of gum.”

      “Aha! You admit that you took it!” Max crowed. “You heard her.” Spinning on his heel, he pinned Jumper-Cable Girl to the spot with an overly exuberant jab of his finger and a triumphant smile. “You are a witness. She confessed to stealing from my store.”

      Lang groaned, pressing his hand to the top of his head as he dropped his chin to his chest. His hair was slick, completely soaked through with sleet. Icy pellets were beginning to accumulate on his shoulders and seep into the weave of his suit coat. Ridges of slush formed around the toes of his leather shoes.

      Lifting his head just enough, he fixed Kirsten with a flat stare. “Turn your pockets inside out.”

      “But—”

      “Do it.” The demand slithered between his clenched teeth. The air stilled around them as Kirsten ducked her head and did as he asked. Sure enough, a mega-pack of strawberry gum landed in the slush at her feet, and Lang’s hopes of waking up from this nightmare were whipped away by the winter wind. “Shit.”

      “I am pressing charges of thievery.” Max practically vibrated with justification. “Please, take this woman to the jail, Detective. I will let Elena know I will return once we have the charges in place.”

      Lang sighed, his fate sealed by the evidence at the tips of his toes. His New Year’s Eve was over, and his date hadn’t even begun.

      Chapter Two

      More than ready to exit this little melodrama stage left, Jessica plunged her hands into the pockets of her mother’s parka but came up empty. Her gut twisted as she realized her cell phone was hooked up to its charger, which was plugged in behind the coffeepot on her mother’s kitchen counter. Back in the land of plaid couches, tofu and no internet. Not even the wired kind.

      Wrapping herself in the cloak of oblivion preferred by urbanites everywhere, she turned to the store’s owner and changed tactics. “Can I use your telephone? I’ll just call a cab and get out of your way.”

      “No public telephone.” The beaming little man didn’t even miss a beat before whipping that old standby out of his bag of tricks. “Detective, take your prisoner away.”

      “Max, I’m not a patrol cop. This isn’t my call.” Detective TallDarkandCableless was still wrangling the alleged gum thief.

      “You wouldn’t arrest me.” Blondie’s lip trembled, but her voice was soft and low and laced with the confidence girls born pretty never had to earn. “We’ll miss the party.”

      Jessica stared at Officer Galahad’s profile, curious to see how he’d react to the entreaty. His jaw tightened and a tiny muscle jumped just below his ear. She had to give him credit for the look of disgust that flitted across his handsome face when Bubble Gum Barbie slipped her fingers under the lapel of his coat. Instead of melting into a puddle of IWannaGetLaid, he took a step back, effectively and efficiently dislodging her hand.

      Hugging the hideous coat even tighter, Jessica thanked God for its down-filled warmth. Tiny lacewings fluttered in her stomach, but she ignored them. This was New Year’s СКАЧАТЬ