The next day I made it fifteen whole hours before the whole thing went to shit.

I woke up cocooned in warmth. The comforter that lay on top of us caressed my bare skin as I stretched. I wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth and sighed. When I rolled over my hair flopped into my eyes. It was a dry and bushy mess. A casualty of rolling around between Manny's cotton sheets. He was within arm's length of me, his soft heavy breathing undisturbed by my movements. I smiled to myself in the dark, the memories of last night making me sigh with delight.

I wanted to shake him awake. I wanted him to open his eyes, reach for me, and slide himself back between my legs. But he has work in a few hours and even though he would gladly indulge me it's kinder to let him sleep.

Instead I slid from beneath the covers with all the stealth of a drunk tyrannosaurus. Manny stirred. "Evie?", he moaned in the dark.

"Sorry. Go back to sleep."

He went silent as I pushed off the bed and threw on the oversized tee-shirt he'd loaned me. All was quiet in the house, no noise but the soft patter of my bare feet against the floor and Bertie's paws clacking behind me. She followed as I showered in the downstairs bathroom, tilting her head now and then as she watched me move about the house. Occasionally, I'd reach down and scratch behind her great, floppy ears. She repaid me with all the tail-wags I could stand.

After ironing my dress and taming the dumpster fire on my head into a passable bun, I said goodbye to Bertie, left a note on the kitchen table, and locked the door behind me.

It was an ordinary day at Taste Teas, except for the glow of happiness that radiated from me. I smiled like a madwoman. I poured coffee with the grace of an angel. I seemed to glide about in a daze of good-nature.

Customers came, they bought, they forgot to tip. And yet my spirits remained elevated. Sometimes when I turned I caught his scent. His detergent in my clothes. His body wash on my skin. His hair product failing to keep my flyaways in place. Every whiff I got reminded me of him. And every time I thought of him I got happier. Not even Pasha and Jackson could get to me. Though, not for lack of trying. When we had a slow period she walked up to me nervously. "Evie," my name came from her mouth like a sigh.

"Yes?" I said, sweeter than honey.

She bit at the teal coloring on her lips. "Is now a good time to talk about my idea?"

I blinked once but remained smiling. "What idea?"

"My idea about how to get more creative with the coffee."

"I don't remember this talk."

"Because we haven't had it yet. You said you would listen to my idea later. It's later."

Ah. I do vaguely recall that. "Okay. But talk and work."

"Okay. Okay. Cool," she shifted awkwardly. "I think we should incorporate latte art into our services."

"Latte art?" I was barely listening as I wiped down the counter.

"Yeah! It's when you make designs on coffee."

"I know what it is, I just don't see the point."

She fiddled with an empty napkin dispenser. "Well, uh, if we started doing it we could really stand out from the competition."

"I see. And can you do it?"

"Well, not yet-"

"So you want to incorporate a thing you can't do into your work without doing any research?"

"I could learn."

I smiled. "I appreciate that you could, but novelty doesn't sell. If it doesn't make it taste better it's waste of time."

"But...novelty is pretty much what we do." Her movements became more animated. The scent of wisteria and jasmine filled the air she'd stirred.

"I'm sure people would be impressed but the problem with trends is they change. Today it's latte art, and tomorrow it's glitter latte art, after that who knows. Costs need to stay down and productivity needs to stay up."

She looked for a moment like she might tear up. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

I sighed. "You know what? If you can figure out how to do it, you can make whatever shapes you want."

"Really?"

"Yes. But I want a demonstration first."
She squealed with unrestrained excitement, "Thanks Evie. I won't let you down."

I predict she'll get bored eventually and ask to stop. But I figured I owed her one. Pasha was loyal and a good worker. Plus, she was always the one to hold down the fort when I went off on business errands. This endeavor wouldn't satisfy her for long but if it gave her job more meaning then she could have it.

After that, Pasha was solid for the rest of the day. It was Jackson who I was depending on to bring me down from cloud nine. He watched me, his dark eyes staring in contemplation. He paused over a bowl of freshly mixed dough, his hands white from flour.

I thought he was going to say something. Perhaps his usual biting comments about my boyfriend, but he just watched.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. You look happy."

At around two Manny called. I didn't know it was possible, but my heart managed to leap with joy when I saw his name on the caller ID. "Sorry I missed you this morning," he said.

"It's okay. I had to go anyway." The steam from my reheated pasta billowed up from the take-out container. I sat the fork down and leaned back in my office chair.

"So last night..."

"Yeah...?"

His voice got low. "It was incredible."

"It?"

"I'm not alone."

"Ah." I could vaguely make out the sound of people talking behind him.

"I wanted you to know, I had a lot of fun."

"Me too."

"I was thinking we could do it again. Tonight."

"So soon?"

"I need to see more of you."

"I think you've seen about all of me by now," I giggled.

"It's not enough."

To say that didn't give me a little boost to the ego would be a lie. "I don't know. Mama always said never give the goodies away for free."

He laughed at that. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Those are some big promises for someone halfway across town."

"Then meet me tonight for round two."

"Where?"

"You know where I live."

"And whatever would we do when I got there?"

"You know what I want to do."

"Alright. After work, then." Not that I didn't immensely enjoy playing with him, but if one of us didn't end this flirt loop we were on we could end up doing it all day. "Oh! I need to run an errand first. And I want pick up a change of clothes. People will start to think I'm some kind of loose woman."

I could almost see the salacious way he was surely smiling when he said, "Can't have that."

The rest of the day flew by. After closing I got in my car and plugged Trudy's address into the GPS on my phone.

Ponte Vista was a neighborhood that was not quite upscale. Instead it teetered the line between the upper class and middle class. Everything was shiny and new. Businesses gleamed smooth with new paint. Grass was freshly seeded. Streets were devoid of litter. Everywhere I looked I was blinded by the glimmer of brand name opulence.

Jaguar. Porsche. Hermes. Mercedes. Versace. Prada.

And other material things that meant nothing. But what did I know? Here I was driving around in an eight-year-old Ford wearing a dress I got from a clearance rack at Beall's and walking in shoes I got from Payless-but shit they had that BOGO sale going on!

Anyway, the end goal for me was to look cute without having to sacrifice my first born for it. This here was something else. The wealth around me was performative more than anything. People walked with the arrogance of the Nouveau Riche. Designer clothes. Designer sunglasses. Designer baby carriages. Designer dog collars for their designer dogs.

Started from the middle, now I'm upper middle. And damn it if everyone wasn't going to know.

I had trouble picturing the likes of Trudy Bergman living here. When I pulled up to her address I was impressed. The home was a pristine three-story colonial that relaxed under the shadow of grand oak tree. An old wooden swing hung from one of its lower branches. Damn. I should have upcharged her.

I parked in the driveway behind an old Cadillac and stepped out into the evening still happy but apprehensive. I didn't really want to deal with either of them, so the game plan was to get the money and make a run for it. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of cold that clung to the air as the sun sunk behind the Earth, and walked toward the front door.

The soles of my shoes tapped in time on the elaborate stone driveway as I moved forward. I bounced up the stone stairs at the foot of the entrance and reached out for the doorbell before I froze in place.

The door was ajar.

I stayed like that for a moment. My arm outstretched but never touching that doorbell as my eyes stayed glued to the crack in the door. My mind turned.

Why was the door open? Maybe someone broke in. Don't jump to conclusions. Maybe she left and forgot to pull the door closed all the way. It happens. But why would she leave right before she knew I was coming? Maybe it's reversed. Maybe she's inside and didn't realize she'd left the door open.

To my left a soft creaking carried over to my ears. I spun that way, my heart pounding. The flesh on my arms prickled. Shadows moved but there was nothing there but that swing on the tree, blown by the wind. The damage was done and my calm happy demeanor was replaced by agitation and paranoia. My mind saw him then. Slumping against the wall, his hand over his heart, staring up at me, accusing me...No! I won't think about that again. I'm tired of thinking about it. That's over. It's done. I can't change what happened. Focus, Evie!

Get the money and run, remember?

I took a moment to calm myself down. If she had a heart attack or something I should go in to perform a wellness check. That's the responsible, adult thing to do. When I go in, I'll see that she's fine, get my money, and go back to my very sweet boyfriend who'll help me forget all about this.

I nodded to myself and turned to face the door. I rang the doorbell first, just in case. There was no answer. Shit. I knocked and the door pushed open wider. "Mrs. Bergman?" I called into an empty foyer. "It's Evie Harper. If you're packing, don't shoot."

She didn't hear me...or couldn't. Okay, let's stay positive, Evie. I walked in cautiously and closed the door after me. "Mrs. Bergman!"

Still no answer so I walked on with the kind of curiosity one has when they're in an unfamiliar house doing a wellness check on a lady who was meeting her possibly unhinged son who has a tendency for violence and hoping like hell you don't walk in on some crazy shit 'cause you aren't wearing the right shoes for running and oh my God I just remembered no one knows where I am...

...The house was nice though. The sort of place much poorer people dream about when they imagine finally making it to the top of that economic mountain. It was all hand scraped hardwood floors and intricate wallpapers. The ceilings were high and the windows wide to allow the sun to stream through on a lazy Sunday. I toured the first floor, passing open rooms with understated but elegant décor.

The furniture in the living room was old but unstained. The dining room held this large ornately carved trestle table that sat eight. Everything was well kept and homey...but still no Trudy. She'd decided to decorate the walls in most of the first-floor rooms with impeccably framed photographs.

Upon closer inspection I saw that each one was carefully taken with the eye of a professional. Many of them were clustered thematically. Some showed people, animals, or nature. Some in color, some in black and white. Down a long hallway were simple wooden shelves decorated with outward facing antique cameras.

They sat neatly in rows, their lenses staring like shiny black eyes. Above them hung a plaque with Trudy's name on it. It was an award for photography. Black and White Photo of the Year-Landscape.

I was about to hit the second floor when I realized I'd missed a room at the end of the hall. The eyes of the cameras watched me as I moved. My reflection was distorted and unsightly by their dark convex lenses. On the last shelf a gap stared at me from between two of the cameras. A thin layer of dust had been disturbed in the place where one of the cameras was missing but otherwise everything was silent.

I walked through the open door into a study and heaved a sigh when I finally found her. There on the ground was Trudy. I'd like to say I ran over to check to see if she was still alive but I didn't. I knew. Instead I walked around her and carefully took in the scene. She lay sprawled out on top of an oriental rug, her curled brown hair red with blood. The source was from the open wound at her left temple. It had dripped down the side of her face until it forked like thin red roots over her cheek, eyes, and nose, until it pooled under her on that expensive rug. Her make-up was still immaculate. Her clothes barely wrinkled.

From the looks of it, whoever did this was likely gone. Damn, I guess this means I'm not getting paid...

What's wrong with me? When did I get so cruel? Why am I so calm? Shouldn't I cry...scream...panic...? But all I felt as I stared at the corpse of Trudy Bergman was a sense of coldness. Maybe this is just another form of shock. Maybe it was because I'd seen worse...

When I stopped gawking I called the cops.

*********************************************

"So, why were at Mrs. Bergman's home?" Detective Kruse was balding, heavy-set, and about three years from retirement.

"She asked me to stop by after work." I clasped my hands around the warm Styrofoam cup in front of me but didn't drink the rancid coffee inside.

The interrogation room wasn't like on TV. There was no two-way mirror. It was nothing but a small square room that was just about big enough for the table I sat at and three chairs. An ordinary wall clock hung above the door that read: eight-seventeen. Great, what was I going to tell Manny?

"To pay you? For your...investigative services."

"I'm licensed."

"We know. We pulled it," his eyes had sagged with age. "What time did you find her?"

"Around six forty-five."

"And you said she was meeting someone before you?" He scratched at his mustache and stifled a yawn.

"Yeah. Her son. Peter. Daugherty."

"Do you know what time?"

"Four. I think." When I cautioned a look upward I saw a camcorder affixed to the corner ceiling. It made me think of the cameras in Trudy's house.

"Did you ever talk to Peter Daugherty?"

"On the phone a couple of times."

"How did he seem?"

"Ordinary? I'm not sure I understand the question."

"Did it seem like he had any intention of hurting the victim?" Detective Kruse's voice was deep and comforting. I imagine it had to be with the kind of news he must deliver every other day.

"No. In fact, it seemed more like he was afraid of her."

"What about Derek Bergman?"

"Who?"

"Mr. Daugherty's son. Mrs. Bergman's grandson."

"Never met him or talked to him." I'd forgotten all about the kid. "My God, he wasn't killed too..."

"No. He's...gone," he closed the file he'd writing in. "Well Ms. Harper, that's about all I need to know for now."

"I'm not a suspect?"

"No. But if you remember anything else. Call." I rose from my seat at the same time as Detective Kruse.

And just like that it was over. I'd thought for sure that Manny was going to be the one to show up at Trudy's house, but that's ridiculous! He's not the only homicide detective in all of Call County. And once I pick up my stuff I'll text him some excuse about being held up at work and everything will be status quo. Looks like your girl is walking out of here consequence free.

When Detective Kruse opened the door a uniformed officer was waiting.

"This better be important," he said with a frown.

"Uh, it is," the officer said. "Manny Juárez called."

Oh, Shit...

"What does he want?"

The officer looked past Kruse and directly at me. "He's waiting for her."

Oh, Shit!

"Why?"

"He's...my boyfriend." The words tumbled slowly from my mouth.

Kruse looked bored as he said, "You didn't say anything."

"Didn't seem relevant."

"I suppose it wasn't."

Detective Kruse asked the other officer to escort me out of the police station. We hadn't walked five feet before he started yammering about nothing. My mind was too busy dreading what came next to humor him.

"You're cute," he said with a smile. "No wonder he's been walking around in such a good mood lately."

Manny did not look to be in a good mood when I finally saw him in front of the police station. He addressed the cop first, thanking him for delivering me as one would thank a mail carrier, before we walked in silence to my car in the parking lot.

Then he turned to me and with a sly grin said, "I knew you were up to something."

"How long?"

"A few hours ago. I was planning to bring it up tonight." His eyelids were heavier than usual. He still wore his work clothes. He had probably worked all day and stayed behind when he heard I was here.

"You're not mad?"

"A little bit. But not about the P.I. shit." He frowned down at me, but he wasn't truly angry. More so, frustrated than anything. "Why did you feel you needed to lie?"

"...I don't know."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

I hugged myself when the wind picked up. The cotton dress from the night before did little to protect me from tonight's sudden cold weather. "Yes. When I found the courage."

"Courage? Are you scared of me?"

I bit my lip. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I'm not sure what to do here." He sighed and stared off into the distance. "Everything is great, except for the lies."

"I'll stop."

But he shrugged doubtfully. "Maybe."

I shivered when a cold breeze blew up my bare legs. Manny was quick. He pulled off his coat in seconds. This time I didn't stop him as he closed the gap between us and draped it over my shoulders. The heat from his body warmed me.

I forced myself to look up at him. The shame I felt mixed with the attraction we had to each other created a strange kind of sexual tension. I changed the subject. "How did you find out?"

He looked deep into my eyes and said with a sultry murmur, "I pulled your phone records."

I blinked. "...Excuse me?"

He looked embarrassed. "I...I wanted to make sure you weren't in any trouble...so I've been tracking your-"

"Oh. My. God." My voice lost its meekness.

"It sounds worse than it is."

"It sounds like a government official is using his power to survey me without probable cause!"

"When you say it like that..."

"Yeah!"

"...Confession. I did more than that."

"Tell me."

"So, I checked your licenses, right?"

"Ah huh."

"And the phone records."

"...Yeah?"

Now he was the one having trouble looking at me. "-And I may have considered putting a tracker on your car."

"Jesus Christ!" I crossed my arms over my chest, forcing him to step back a little. "You ran a full reconnaissance mission on me."

"...I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"I mean...I did a background check when we first started dating."

The laugh that came from me was a surprise to us both. I straight up cackled at the absurd amount of balls it took to casually admit something like that. "Oh my God...you're twice as crazy as I am."

He smiled and shook his head. "No! You're definitely the crazy one."

"No you!"

"You got a P.I. license and started an entire side business without mentioning it."

"You checked my phone records and tried to track my car."

"You can't be honest!"

"You invaded my privacy!"

"What you did was worse-"

"No, it wasn't! And can't you be fired for using police resources for your own gain, Detective?"

"They ain't firing me," He snorted. "Everybody does it!"

"So?" I said with a huff. "If everybody jumped off a bridge would you do it?"

"...Depends on the context."

That did it. Both of us gave in to a fit of laughter so loud it echoed across the empty parking lot. When I managed to calm myself down I asked, "So what did you find?"

"Huh?"

"When you ran your background check. I hope everything was satisfactory. Lord knows I didn't have the means to make sure you weren't a psychopath. I chose to go out with a person two times bigger and stronger than me off of nothing but good faith."

"Alright, point taken. Maybe I got a little carried away. Especially when I searched through your emails-"

"Don't you need a subpoena for that?"

"Hey, this isn't about how I did it. This is about why. It's because you're a liar. You lied about where you were just like you lied about never going to that restaurant last night."

"How did you figure that one out?"

"Oh! You're a great liar. You have no tells. But Henry..."

"And I would've got away with it if it wasn't for Henry's inability to be cool."

"Yep." His smile faded, and he got serious. "The point is I don't like the lying."

"That's...fair. I shouldn't be lying to you." I rested my hands on his shoulders and hugged up closer to him. "But you clearly have boundary issues."

He nodded in agreement. "I should respect your boundaries."

"So, what now?"

"I don't know." He absentmindedly fingered a loose strand of my hair. "I really like you Evie."

"I really like you too."

He looked like he might kiss me, but instead he gently gripped my shoulders in his hands and rubbed them to keep me warm. "Maybe we could try to be more honest with each other."

I could agree to that. "Okay."

"Okay." He kissed me-quickly, before he pulled away and turned to leave.

"And you're really not mad about the P.I. license?"

He hesitated. "I...don't approve. But you didn't break the law."

I was about to take off his coat, but he shook his head. "Just go home. I'll get it from you next time." He stayed watching nearby until I'd gotten into my car and pulled out of the police station parking lot.