Saturday, March 21, 2009

Relaxer Can Be Murder

Either Joey Paulson was stupid, or he thought he was smarter than everyone else. Chuck looked at the back door to Joey’s Place and didn’t want to believe that someone who could come up with the most delicious and innovative meals, couldn’t think of a better hiding place than his own restaurant.

The overhead lights were dim. Everything was fuzzy, but she did remember the excruciating pain she felt when Joey reared back and hit her with his rolling pin.
“How are you feeling?” Chuck placed the large bouquet of yellow roses on the table. She looked so peaceful that he hated to bother her.
“Okay.” She whispered. “Where am I?”
“Don’t try to move.” He winced. “You’re at the hospital. The doctor said your surgery went well and your arm and ribs should be good as new in no time.”
Chuck pulled the chair next to Dara’s bed. “We got him. The idiot holed up in his own restaurant.”
“Why did he kill her?”
“He wanted the whole building and Macy wasn’t willing to sell it to him. Sad thing is, her husband said she’d decided to leave. She had actually planned to take over the large space in the center of the Plaza.”
Dara closed her eyes. It was all starting to come back to her. The rage in Joey’s eyes should have told her to move out of the way. But she was scared, and she paid the price. She vaguely remembered the nurses’ questions; only blinding pain. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
Chuck stood and gently moved a strand of hair from her forehead. He’d never had much success with women; never knew what to say or how to say it. But it was easy with Dara.
“Not as beautiful as you. Maybe when you’re up to it, we could have dinner together. You know, to talk about the case.”
“We’ll see.”

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