Third Degree (A Murder 101 Mystery)

but not enough to use the word “hell” in his question. “You know we were supposed to leave three hours ago.”
    I dropped my voice to a whisper even though the detective and I were mere inches from each other. “I’m at the police station.”
    “Which one?” he asked. I was surprised that he didn’t ask why I was in a police station, or what had happened, or why he didn’t just assume it was the one in my town. I guess I had been in a few police stations during our time together so asking which one was a better opener for this conversation.
    “Mine.” I looked over at Madden and gave her a weak smile. She continued to stare back at me. Nope, she didn’t find me funny, or appealing as a human being, at all.
    “What happened? Are you okay?”
    Actually, that should have been the first question, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was obviously flustered by my disappearance, or so I hoped. “I was in the coffee shop and a man died.”
    “Died? As in … died?” Clearly, there was no “as in.”
    “Died.” The look on Madden’s face told me that this phone call had gone on longer than was allowed. “Listen, where are you? Can you get over here?”
    “I’m at your house. I was worried sick.” He left out “after I was furious that you had left town at the thought of meeting my family.” “I’ve been listening to your cell phone ringing in the house this whole time. You have to start carrying that thing.” He paused. “I’ll be right over.”
    I handed Madden back her phone. “He’ll be right over,” I said, but she didn’t care. She put the phone back in her pocket and picked up her pen. “Can I go?” I asked.
    She considered that for a few minutes and then stood. “Yes. When your friend gets here, you can go. But please stay in town. I think we’ll have more questions to ask you,” she said, glaring at me a little bit. She started for the door and then stopped, something on her mind. “What’s with you and the dead bodies?”
    I stood, my hand wrapped tightly around Trixie’s leash. It wasn’t the first time I had been asked that question, nor would it be the last, I supposed. “Pardon?”
    “You. Dead bodies. What’s the deal?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just lucky?” I ventured.
    She exited the room with a sigh. Not only did she not find me funny, she obviously found me tedious as well. I was batting a thousand. I should have stayed in bed. “Come on, Trix,” I said, and led the dog out of the room, down a long hallway, and into the front of the police station. We didn’t have to wait too long until Crawford showed up. I saw him loping up the front walk toward the door; Crawford doesn’t move very quickly unless necessary. I, however, rush everywhere whether or not I’m late or the situation calls for it, so I ran toward the front door, putting us in the uncomfortable position of trying to open the door at the same time. After a few seconds of battling each other on either side of the door, he stepped back and put his hands up in surrender. “Ladies first,” he called through the door.
    I pulled at the door and ran outside without saying good-bye to the desk sergeant and threw myself into Crawford, finally letting out the tension that had been bottled inside of me since I watched Carter Wilmott lose his breath and then collapse to the floor. “Get me out of here,” I said, handing over Trixie’s leash and doing an accelerated perp walk down the front walk toward the street. Crawford followed behind me. Once I was at the sidewalk and off police property, I turned to him. “We don’t have to go to the pool party today, do we?”
    Crawford’s sad face almost made an appearance and got me thinking that I didn’t get a pass on pool parties or family meetings. If watching a man die didn’t qualify as a “pass,” I didn’t know what did. But he shook his head. “I sent our regrets.” He took my face in his hands. “You know you have the beginnings of a black eye, right?”
    “Of course I do,” I said. “That’s where the story begins.” I touched my nose right below my eye and felt the bump there. “How bad is it?”
    Crawford’s a terrible liar. “Not bad.” There was a bench in front of the police station and he sat down. Trixie sat next to him, her head on his thigh. “Pretty bad.” He reached up to touch it, thought better of that idea, and let his hand drop. “Horrible.”
    I looked out at the street and everyone going