Love Can Be Murder

between them was hard to deny. It would be easy, she thought, to spend the night in his arms. But it wouldn't be right to go to her ex-husband’s funeral tomorrow with another man in her mind. B.J. held onto her hand longer than necessary, but she pulled free and maintained extra distance between them as they made their way back through the square.
    They walked by a booth that sold more of the little brown bottles that had attracted B.J.'s attention at the souvenir shop in the museum. The booth was packed, and Penny recognized at least one of the customers from her shop.
    "That's the woman who asked for bat brains," she whispered to B.J.
    "Maybe she needs them for a spell."
    "I'm not judging her," Penny said. "I just hate to see people get scammed and spend their money on ridiculous potions."
    He laughed. "Is that really so different than buying vitamins?"
    She gave him what she hoped was the evil eye. "There's more limestone dust," she said, pointing.
    "Mine aren't limestone," the man behind the booth said. "It's real bones—chicken bones, of course."
    B.J. walked closer to take a look, and Penny observed other customers at the booth.
    "I'm a chemist," the man told B.J. "My mixtures are all authentic and guaranteed. This stuff isn't souvenir grade."
    A customer next to Penny uncorked one of the bottles, and an unpleasant odor filtered out. "Ew," she said, covering her nose even as a memory chord stirred. She prided herself on knowing the fragrance of herbs, but she couldn't recall where she'd smelled this scent...it was recently...and in an unexpected place, she somehow knew. Then it hit her—Deke's cologne the day she'd seen him at the museum. God, it had been awful—no doubt some trendy blend derived from something exotic, like animal pheromones.
    She picked up the bottle. "What is this stuff?" she asked the man.
    "Dimethyl sulfoxide."
    "But what does it do?"
    He leaned in conspiratorially. "It preserves human organs. Got a body you want to keep fresh?"

Chapter Twenty-three

    Keep everything bottled up...

    "IT COULD BE NOTHING," Penny said as they reached the outer door of her building.
    "Right," B.J. said. "But I'll probably check it out tomorrow, while you're at the funeral."
    She nodded, the disturbing information about Deke and the chemical she'd smelled on him only adding to her discomfort about tomorrow's service.
    "Unless you want some company tomorrow."
    She glanced up sharply, but his eyes were unreadable in the dusk, his voice barely audible with all the noise behind them in the square.
    "You can bet Maynard will be there," he added. "Sometimes a funeral will shed new light on a murder case."
    Oh—of course, he'd offered to go for the good of the case. "Guy is picking me up," she said. "Besides, I'm not sure what kind of reception I'll get, but people are bound to talk if they think that you're...that we're..."
    "Right," he agreed, his gaze holding hers. "I guess they'd really talk if I were to spend the night."
    Her eyebrows went up. "P-probably."
    "Still, I'd like to...if that's okay with you."
    Her throat tightened, and while her body screamed Yes! she knew she was too vulnerable for anything good to come of their sleeping together tonight. "I don't think—"
    "On the couch," he said quickly. "To be on the safe side, until you get your locks changed tomorrow."
    Oh—of course, he'd offered to sleep over for the good of the case. She felt like an idiot and tried to save face. "Do you charge time and a half for after hours?"
    He grinned. "If I charged for my skills after hours, you couldn't afford it."
    She pursed her mouth and tried to ignore the little firestorms igniting all over her body. "Okay...but just for tonight."
    She stepped inside, flipped the light switch, and was met with beautiful white light flooding the stairwell. Such a small thing, but she was disproportionately grateful.
    Slowly she climbed the stairs, conscious of him behind her, warmed from his concern. But when he stood close behind her on the landing while she tried to open the door, something changed. For a split second, she felt the tiniest finger of unease, the merest hint of danger. Working with B.J. on the case was one thing, but allowing him to spend the night in her apartment was another. How well did she really know this man?
    "Having trouble?" he asked, then he slipped his arms around hers, covering her hands with his, guiding the key into the keyhole. Penny's breath stalled in her lungs as his chest pressed into