Murder With Fried Chicken and Waffles by A. L. Herbert

Author:A. L. Herbert [Herbert, A. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Detective and Mystery Fiction, Cozy
ISBN: 9781617731747
Amazon: 1617731749
Barnesnoble: 1617731749
Goodreads: 22548146
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2015-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

I swear I can still smell it—that spicy chocolate scent of Marcus’s cologne. I hated it when he was alive, and I hate it even more now. The scent was still in my nose when I called Detective Hutchins as soon as I got back inside the restaurant. I asked him to come over, so I could share some important information with him related to Marcus’s death.

“Hello, Halia,” he says when he sees me at the host station.

“Detective Hutchins,” I say. “Please, let’s have a seat.”

We take a seat at a two-person booth along the wall, and before I have a chance to ask, Darius shows up with two glasses of passion fruit iced tea.

“Are you hungry, Mr. Hutchins? May I offer you some lunch?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Oh. Come now. You have to eat,” I say, before turning to Darius. “Darius, would you bring us some cornbread and a sampler tray?”

“It’s really not necessary.”

“Who said it was for you?” I say with a laugh. “I have to eat, too. We’ll share.” I’m full from having lunch with Heather and Josh, but I want Detective Hutchins to feel comfortable and he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes to eat alone.

“So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

I take a breath. “Okay, I know this sounds strange, but I think I know who killed Marcus.” As the words come out of my mouth, I realize that I don’t believe them to be true. In my heart I just don’t think that Heather or Josh is a murderer. I can’t see a young lady who turned down my fried chicken salad sandwich until she was assured the chickens came from a humane farm or a guy who’s as timid as Josh killing a man. After a couple of hours with them, I feel in my gut that they did not do it. But then how do you explain a very distinct smell that I’ve only ever attributed to Marcus, coming from their trunk a few days after he was killed?

“Really?” he says with what appears to be an amused expression on his face . . . a sort of ‘okay, so tell me, silly lady, who do you think the mean old killer is?’ smirk.

“Well, maybe I don’t know, but I do have some information that might be ... is important.”

“And that is?”

“You interviewed Heather and Josh Williams, right? The young couple that had dinner with Marcus the night he was killed.”

“How do you know he was killed that night? His body didn’t turn up until three days after that. I know he was killed that night . . . blunt force trauma to the head was the cause. But I have the coroner’s report, which estimated the time of death. I’m curious as to how you knew that?”

I want to kick myself for making such a stupid mistake. “It just seemed like a safe assumption.”

Detective Hutchins eyes me distrustfully as if he knows I’ve been keeping information from him all along, and there’s a moment of silence between us before I speak.

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