sixty-one

Patty Detweiler volunteered to drive me back to my car. I reckoned her offer was an olive branch, so I eagerly snatched it up.

“Let me tell Mom goodbye,” she said. We both knew this was a complete ruse designed to give her brother and me privacy. Tucking my arm under his, Detweiler walked me to his sister’s car. “You liked my roses?”

I kissed him. “Yes. They are lovely. I’m enjoying them.”

“I want to tell you again how sorry I am. You were right; I should have cut Brenda loose a long time ago.” He threaded his fingers through mine, but kept his gaze on the ground. “I don’t know why I feel so sad. I wasn’t in love with her anymore. I’d almost come to hate her for all the trouble she was causing.”

“You feel sad because you remember the person you once loved. You know who she could have been. And because you’re a good person.” I hugged him, catching a whiff of the Safeguard soap he always used and a hint of cologne. I liked the fact he didn’t douse himself like some men did.

Stepping away to study me, he asked, “You’re not mad at me any more for being a bonehead?”

I laughed. “That’s Detective Bonehead, right?”

To my great joy, he smiled. “D.B.”

I laughed again. “I’m not mad. You did your best. We’ll talk about our wedding later, okay?”

“And Anya? Does she hate me? Has she said anything? Is she okay?”

“You mean besides spending all day sticking pins into a cloth doll dressed in a police uniform?”

“Crud,” he groaned, and a flutter in my belly reminded me how much I needed this man. “That bad?”

“She has other things on her mind,” I answered honestly.

“What? Is she worried about the baby?”

“No, she’s happy about that. It’s a problem between her and Nicci Moore. Girl stuff.” I waved the concern away.

“Tell her I love her and that as soon as I’m out of this pickle, we’re going fishing. I had promised her a day of it, and I intend to keep that promise real soon.”

This pickle. Well, that was one way to describe being a suspect in your wife’s murder.

He hesitated. “Just so you know, I was being truthful. I wanted to ask her to be my daughter, but I wanted to talk with you first, and I needed to finish up the divorce proceedings. But I hope she’ll take me up on the offer. I know she sets great store about being a Lowenstein, but maybe we can come to some sort of a compromise.”

“What kind of compromise?”

“Patty suggested a hyphenated last name. Pretty smart, huh?”

“That’s certainly an option. We’ll have to run it by Anya. Speaking of Patty, your sister confuses me. Is it safe for me to get in the car with her? Or is she going to take the loss of her friend out on me?” Glancing at Patty telling her mother goodbye, I knew that Detweiler and I only had a few more seconds to talk freely.

“Here’s the good news: Patty hates firearms. If she’s angry with you, she’s more likely to attack you with a glue gun than a pistol. The two of you are more alike than you know. Both of you love crafts. Both are loyal to a fault. Trusting. Sensitive.” Then he grinned. “And boy, do you two have a temper on you!”