Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,10

police officer’s hand on my shoulder and he was shaking me awake. I sat up. I was out in the alley next to the restaurant. And I swear, Jim . . . Annie . . .” He looked from one of us to the other. “I swear I have no memory of how I got there.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “And Vickie?”

Alex swallowed so hard, I saw his Adam’s apple bob. “I was surprised to see the officer, of course. I didn’t know what had happened. I sat up. My head felt as if it was stuffed with wool batting. My mouth was dry. My eyes were bleary, but it didn’t take me but another moment to notice there were two more policemen behind the one who helped me to sit up. They had their guns out.”

“Because Vickie . . .”

“There were police cars at the mouth of the alley. And more officers.” Alex’s eyes were bright with tears and, being the manly type he was, I knew he’d never allow that to happen. Not if he wasn’t moved by some powerful emotion. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “It wasn’t until they’d handcuffed me and moved me off from where they found me that I realized there was blood on my clothing. Lots of it. I felt like hell. I still do. But I wasn’t hurt. The blood wasn’t mine.”

My stomach was so tight, I felt as if a hand had reached inside me and tied it into a couple million painful knots. It was hard to take a breath. When had I reached over and grabbed Jim’s hand? I wasn’t sure, I only knew I held on tight. “And . . .” The words wouldn’t form. I hauled in a lungful of air and tried again. “And Vickie was . . .”

“That’s the hell of it.” Alex slapped a hand down on the table loud enough to make the guard outside jump. Jim signaled to the man that all was well, and we turned our attention back to Alex. “You know me well enough, Jim. You know I’d never hurt another person. Not for anything in all the world.”

“Aye. I know.” Jim stared at his cousin, waiting for the rest of the story.

“And I’d know. Don’t you think I’d know if I did something like what they’re saying I did?” Alex scraped a hand through his hair. “It’s daft, that’s what it is. It makes no sense. If only I could remember!”

Yes, I’d been told to keep my distance, and keep my hands to myself. And yes (again), I’m all about following rules and regulations. But there are certain situations that defy rules. This was one of them. I couldn’t bear to watch Alex suffer and not offer what little support I was able. I darted out a hand to reach across the table and give Alex’s hand a squeeze.

The gesture calmed him. “Vickie’s dead,” he said, his voice as flat as the look in his eyes. “She was there in that alley. They found me a-lying right on top of her. I had . . .” He swallowed hard. “They say I had one of the steak knives from the restaurant in my hand. They say it’s the knife I used to kill her.”

Three

WHEN STACIE, THE YOUNG LADY WHO’D INTRODUCED herself as our server at Swallows that afternoon, disappeared into the kitchen, Eve took the opportunity to smack her lips. “Baileys chocolate cheesecake. Yum!” It wasn’t at all like Eve to be so obvious (at least in public) when it came to how much she enjoyed food, but believe me, I understood.

The Baileys chocolate cheesecake at Swallows is to die for.

Though Eve didn’t know what I was thinking, I cringed. To die for was a bad expression considering what happened to Vickie at the restaurant.

Rather than think about it, I talked through my logic for this visit with Eve. It was better than staring at the kitchen door, waiting for Stacie and drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

“Yes, the cheesecake is fabulous,” I admitted. “But remember, it’s also a perfect excuse for us to be here.” I patted the table we’d found in the corner. It was late on Wednesday afternoon, and even though Jim was worried about Alex, he was hard at work at Bellywasher’s. Jim is a professional, remember. It would take more than an investigation to make him abandon his duties at the pub. After we left police headquarters, Jim asked me