A Body to die for

can I talk to you for a second?” If he was about to confess, I needed to know right away. Not for any technical reason. I just like to be the first one to learn these things.
    “We talked already.” Jack stared at the object of his attention. She gave him the finger.
    “I’ve got a train ticket, see, and I have to get to the railroad .” I make stabs at subtlety.
    He looked confused. “So go catch your train.”
    Ameleth had taken the opportunity to sob alone behind the juice bar. She rummaged in the fridge for something other than a Virgin Mary. I took the opportunity to calm Jack down and try to shut him up. He said, “I think I’m dehydrated. I need something to drink. Excuse me a moment.” He actually tried to go to Ameleth again.
    “Look, Jack,” I said. “You’re blowing this. You’re acting guilty.”
    “Ameleth talked about it all the time,” Jack said, the most testy he’d been all night. “She never said who, but I heard all about the sex in repugnant detail. He liked her to put on pink cotton panties. Not white. Not red. And pink cotton ankle socks. With ruffles. That man was sick. He was disgusting. I’m glad he’s dead.” Jack’s boyish veneer beamed raw hurt. Falcone watched him, but didn’t appear to be listening. I recalled that jocks weren’t generally known for their massive brainpower.
    “You kill this guy, or what?” I asked in a whisper.
    “You don’t mince words, do you?”
    “Just tell me the truth.”
    “If I’d killed him, I’d have drowned him,” he said thoughtfully. “That way, there’d be no evidence. But I didn’t kill him. I found him. Thank God, you’re on my side.” Ah, the appreciation of a desperate man. I learned a lot about this in my early twenties. Those days were long gone, and I had no plans to return. But Jack—he seemed honest. I believed him. If he was guilty, I’d eat a bag of doughnuts, then my beret. “Ameleth hates me,” he said coldly.
    I countered, “It’s more of a twisted psycholove.”
    “You’re right.” He nodded his head as if that were better.
    The paramedics finally arrived. I checked my watch —over an hour since I’d called the police. Good thing Barney was already dead because he wouldn’t have lasted that wait. The guys in white entered the Jacuzzi room and wheeled the body out in a green plastic bag. It was a long day’s gurney into night for Barney. For the first time all evening, I got that sick rush of panic and dread. A life had been snubbed out like the cherry on a cigarette. I grieved briefly for this stranger.
    “He’ll never eat a Dorito again,” I said to myself, “He never ate Doritos anyway,” Jack—who had rudely eavesdropped on my conversation with myself —shared. “Neither do I. They’re pure fat and salt.”
    “But crunchy,” I added. Fat and salt: two of the four basic food groups. The other two being nicotine and NutraSweet. I had a flash craving for french fries with brown gravy on the side, a large Diet Coke and a cigarette after. My mouth watered. I wiped the corners with the beret. I wondered if the Greek diner on the corner would break a hundred-dollar bill. My stomach growled like a rabid dog. I put a mental leash on it.
    Ameleth clung to Barney’s body bag as the paramedics maneuvered the gumey into the elevator. She wanted to stay with him, but the paramedics and Detective Falcone wouldn’t allow it. Ameleth began crying again. She sank into the fluffy white carpet and sobbed quietly. Her face buried in the cushions, her frizzy hair matched her body’s tiny shakes. Jack, seeing his big chance, tentatively wandered over to the quivering fitness queen.
    Janey smartly intercepted him. “Don’t, Jack,” she implored. “She’s in pain.” She took Jack’s hand and led him away from his wife. Janey and Jack then pulled up stools at the juice bar.
    “As soon as the lady detective tells us we can go,” Janey stage-whispered, “I want to take you home with me. I want to help, Jack. Let me take care of you.” Lady detective? I supposed that made Janey a lady receptionist. Jack seemed to respond to her offer. He let her stroke his fingers suggestively. Ameleth didn’t notice from her face plant on the couch.
    We all waited for whatever came next. One thing about Detective Falcone: She didn’t let anyone rush her. She’d wrap this investigation when she damn well pleased. All we could do was sit in that room for the three (three!) hours it took her to supervise