Alex Harris 00 - Armed

few neighbors did see him out about ten walking his dog. Has a little poodle. I wouldn’t think of him as a poodle man.
    “These same neighbors say he yelled a lot before his wife left. They hadn’t been married all that long, but he’s lived in the house for years. Before he married he had a whole string of women. None ever lasted very long.
    “Anyway.” John shrugged. “We know he took a walk at ten, which gives us nothing. He claims he went to the grocery store right after he left the factory. No receipt. Says he left it on the checkout counter. I never pick mine up either so he could be telling the truth. Oh, and we talked to Mrs. Scott’s doctor and to Mr. Poupée. The doctor said she didn’t have MS and Mr. Poupée said she never said anything about being sick.”
    “Maybe her doctor didn’t know because she went to a specialist,” I said.
    “That’s what I thought too, but I asked and he said her annual physical two months ago showed nothing.”
    “Oh.”
    “It was probably just a note she wrote to herself. A reminder for something. Is that your family over there?”
    “Yes. You know my sister and that’s her husband and their two children.” I pointed to where Henry karate chopped his sister. “And my parents are standing over there. Would you like to stop and have something to drink? There should be some cinnamon rolls left, too.”
    “That would be nice. I like your hair.”
    I blushed like a silly schoolgirl and skated ahead of him so he couldn’t see my face.
    We sat by the mini-van trying to keep warm and my mom handed each of us a cup of cider.
    “LT tells us there’s nothing new on the murder front,” my dad said to John.
    LT? Did my father just call me LT? He hadn’t used that term for me in twenty-five years. Was he mad? I looked out toward the ice hoping to see a crack expanding that I could fling myself into.
    “LT?” John asked.
    Jesus.
    “Gee, I don’t know where that came from,” Dad chuckled. “We used to call Alex LT. Little Terror. I haven’t called her that in a long time.”
    John’s eyes were on me while I continued my search for a large hole in the ice. I would never live this down. Jesus.
    “Is this your first murder case?” Dad asked.
    John told my parents that for Indian Cove, yes, but up in Boston he had seen his share over his ten years on their force. It was one reason why he wanted to get out of the big city and come back to Connecticut. The slow pace of Indian Cove and the small surrounding towns his department covered suited him fine and he liked being close to New York. He enjoyed going into the city for the theater and the food. He tired to have dinner with his parents every week, and he volunteered as a big brother to a boy in New Haven.
    Sam leaned over and whispered in my ear while the men still talked. “Good looking, athletic, likes the arts and fine food, has a charitable soul, a good son—what more could a girl want, huh, LT?”
    I tried to shrug her off and wished I could do a karate kick like Henry. “Would you be quiet!”
    “I think you should ask him out. I’m pretty sure he would say yes.”
    “I’m too busy,” I whispered. I had never asked a man out before. The fear of rejection lingered over me.
    “You could find the time if you wanted. I think you’re scared of rejection, but I’m telling you, the man would not say no.”
    As always, Sam knew me too well. I jumped up and made my way back to the pond. I felt bitterly cold and would like nothing more than to go back home and cuddle up with a good book. I rephrased that in my mind. I would like nothing more than to go somewhere with John for a cup of tea and more talk. John. I liked it. He looked like a John.
    I glanced back to where they all sat. For a split second, John looked over at me and our eyes locked. His soft gray ones picked up the deep blue of his jacket. I turned and headed for the center of the pond. A few minutes later I looked back again but he was gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

    “Turn left at the next corner,” Meme said.
    I put my signal on and turned onto a street with so much snow pushed up against the curbs that two cars could no longer pass.
    “Who’s next on the list?” I asked.
    “Billy Chance. He’s a good kid. Been lending money to his family for years. His grandfather worked with your grandfather. He fell on hard times a few years ago, but now he’s got a detailing company and he’s doing real good. Your sister told me about