Steamed

sound like Mr. Dough was becoming more of an annoyance than a great investor. He latched onto this group of restaurant owners and their world, and he was intrusive and bossy and generally made a pest of himself. And how do you know that Mr. Dough was really going to invest, anyway? Maybe he was so desperate to work himself into this crowd of people he obviously admired so much that he only pretended he was going to get involved. He certainly doesn’t sound like the most personable person. Maybe he was desperate for friends.”
    I nodded enthusiastically. “Now that I think about it, it does seem like, uh, my date had been toying a bit with Mr. T, you know, getting as many free meals as he could, acting like he ran the place, ordering the staff around. And at the same time that he was yabbering about all the money he had to invest... I don’t know, but he also seemed like a pretty serious cheapskate. Maybe he wouldn’t have wanted to part with his precious money if he wasn’t going to be guaranteed a return.”
    “Again,” began our exasperated professor, “let’s shift the focus to the current dynamics in this room. To what’s going on right now. What processes are present here?” He looked around hopelessly. “All right, let’s take a break. Everyone back here in ten minutes.”
    Doug caught up with me in the hall. “I knew you were going to be trouble when I found you in the bookstore. Good group work today, Chloe.”
    I smiled. I was beginning to enjoy Group Therapy. So far we’d cast suspicion off Josh and onto other possible suspects. Unfortunately, when the class resumed, Professor Buckley slipped out of his nondirective role by insisting that we quit talking about the murder, and then a lot of students got annoyed with him, so the remainder of the class was somewhat satisfying in terms of group process but disappointing with regard to exonerating Josh.
    Still, the class had been productive. As soon as it ended, I went home to call Detective Hurley and let him know what my social work cohorts and I had come up with.
    Detective Hurley miraculously picked up after the first ring. “Aren’t you supposed to be out catching criminals?” I asked him.
    “Yeah, theoretically. Only this case isn’t moving as quickly as I’d hoped. Did you remember something that could help?” he asked.
    “Well, I’ve been talking to Josh, and I have the impression that he’s your main suspect right now. But I definitely don’t think he did it.”
    Hurley groaned. “Let me guess. You and Josh are...” He didn’t bother to finish the sentence.
    “Well, yeah. No, not exactly. But listen,” and I ran through my social work class’s alternative theories. “I suggest you look at Tim and at Eric’s parents. I didn’t see Tim during the exact moment Eric was murdered. And his parents are whacked, if you want my opinion. Where were they that night?” I also stressed that Josh had been up-front about sabotaging Garrett’s food, and I dished out some of my classmates’ theories about restaurant promotion, parental pathology in relation to an emotionally distant son, and so forth.
    “Chloe, I can’t tell you who to spend your time with, but I’d advise you to stay away from all suspicious parties. You don’t have any connection to these people. Leave it that way.”
    But Detective Hurley was wrong. I was connected to Josh.
     

TWELVE
     
    I called Josh late Thursday morning after class. I wasn’t trying to follow any rules about calling or not calling within a certain number of days since I thought that was all a bunch of BS.
    “Hey, cutie! How are you?” he said cheerily.
    “I’m good. I just got home from class, and I thought I’d check in with you about Friday night. Is it still okay if we come in for dinner?”
    “Of course. You’re going to bring your friends Adrianna and Owen, right?”
    “If that’s okay with you. I’m sure the restaurant will be swamped on a Friday night. I don’t want us to be in the way.”
    “Not at all. I told Maddie you were coming in, and she’s going to have places set up for you at the kitchen. We’ve got an open kitchen like Essence does, but I hope you’ll have a better time at Magellan than you did there. So, what’ve you been up to the past few days?”
    I told him about visiting with my parents and sister, and my idiotic field placement. I left out the discussion I’d had in group therapy. Why ruin the conversation by mentioning that he was a murder