“Do you want a drink?” Marner asked as we strolled along East 4^th Street, a mecca of restaurants, bars, and comedy and music venues. He had peeled off his suit jacket in the seventy-degree temperatures and loosened his tie. I had noticed a few women glance at him in appreciation, and I admit I had a feminine smugness that he was mine, ladies, all mine.

Aside from my pride, I liked the solidity of Marner. Even though we weren’t talking about the arraignment, his very presence, during and after, was reassuring. My stomach was still tight from seeing Nick the Prick (that would be his mob name, no doubt) and I wasn’t ready for dinner yet. “A drink would be great.”

“How about here?” He gestured to a lounge-like bar that boasted signature cocktails and jazz on the weekends. This was where Marner wasn’t like Ryan at all. He wasn’t just a beer and ballgames guy. He had layers. He also liked expensive bourbon, which had surprised me. I liked that no matter the crowd or the circumstance, Marner was always on sure footing. He could blend in at a dive bar, and manage to maneuver his way through a cocktail party. He was the guy that both your friends and your parents liked.

“Sure.” We went into the hushed interior with its dark wood bar and cushy furniture. It had a forties vibe to it, and after staring bewildered at the cocktail menu for ten minutes I let Marner talk me into a gin drink that was heavy on the floral notes. “Do you think I’m going to like this?” I asked, dubious.

“You’re very floral,” he told me, confident.

I couldn’t really argue that. At that very moment I was placing my floral Kate Spade mini handbag onto the bar top. It was the Jardin pattern, which was of course French for garden. Why was everything so much sexier in French?

“In my fashion choices, sure, but my beverages? I don’t know. We shall see.”

If I was waiting for him to wax on about my beauty, it wasn’t going to happen. Marner wasn’t going to compare my face to a rose or something. But I was pretty sure if I ever dated a man who actually did that, I’d be so mortified and embarrassed I would run away. It just wasn’t the way I was raised. If my father had ever recited poetry to my mother she would have told him to cut the crap.

So Marner’s response didn’t bother me. He said, “Drink it. I’m just trying to get in your pants anyway.” He was half-joking, half-serious.

“I’m wearing a dress.”

“Even better. Easy access.” He grinned at me.

I couldn’t argue that, so I rolled my eyes at him. We hadn’t actually taken that final step, to our mutual frustration. But I had been panicked that Ryan would pop up at an extremely inappropriate moment. Then things seemed to cool between Marner and me anyways for the last few weeks, so I was glad we hadn’t, because then I would think that I sucked in bed and I didn’t need that weighing on top of my other worries.

Now though Ryan seemed to be MIA and Marner seemed to be over the whole ghost thing. Maybe there was hope for my love life yet. “Nothing this good should be easy,” I told him with a smirk. He wasn’t the only one who could be smug.

He laughed, caught off-guard. “I’ll drink to that.” He picked up his glass and held it toward me. “To a good woman,” he said.

I lifted my own drink and lightly touched his. “Cheers.” Dang, Marner was looking hot today. My cheeks felt warm and I glanced away, unwilling to let him see what was in my eyes.

I eyed the cocktail, which was an amber color, and took a tentative sip. It was surprisingly smooth. “You were right. I stand corrected.”

“You’re welcome.”

Taking another sip, I decided to brooch the subject that was currently on my mind. “Random question—is there still mob activity in Cleveland?”

His eyebrows went up. “That is a random question. Why, are you writing another book?”

“Haha.” He was never going to let me live it down that I had pretended to be writing a crime novel. “No, I have this staging client and after some things he said, I feel like he’s shady.” I failed to mention that I had seen Cezar’s ghost, because as of now, presumably no one knew he was dead.

“Shady, how?” Marner looked only mildly curious. He tended to think I overreacted in general.

I had to figure out how to play this so that it wasn’t unbelievable. “I heard him talking about three million dollars and needing some key or something to a locker at the Schvitz. Do you know what that is?”

He nodded. “Sure. Everyone knows about the Schvitz. I’m actually going this weekend. My buddies and I go every October and February.”

So apparently men liked meat and sweating. Go figure. “So then it’s not like a mob den? I mean, if it was, they wouldn’t let you in since you’re a cop.”

He nodded. “It’s not a mob den. It’s just a thing we do.”

That told me absolutely nothing. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Because it’s men only?”

“Trust me,” I told him wryly. “No women want to go there. Ever. We’ll stick to the actual spa where there are trained professionals.”

“What do they need to be trained for at the Schvitz?” Marner asked, shrugging his shoulders. “They’re not doing anything other than cooking dinner, and trust me, it’s a kickass steak.”

“So you’re going this weekend?” If I was going to be stupid enough to attempt to sneak in, which I might, if Cezar kept harassing me, I would have to make sure I was there when Marner wasn’t. He would not be happy with me for creeping around a sweat bath. But at least he was reassuring in that the place didn’t sound dangerous.

“Yeah.” He took another sip. “As far as the mob goes, if your guy was really involved in shady business, he wouldn’t be talking about it where you could overhear. Criminals aren’t that dumb. Well, some of them are. But not guys who are shifting money around. You can’t pull off racketeering and illegal gambling and be a total idiot.”

“True.” I couldn’t confess that Cezar was telling me stuff directly because he wanted his homicide solved.

Marner pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced down at it. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

He made a face. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Body found in a warehouse. Suspicious circumstances.”

That was definitely deflating. I had been anticipating a long and enjoyable evening. But I wasn’t going to pout. His job was important and he was good at it. “That sucks.” I never knew what to say when he talked about murder. I figured our interrupted dinner was no big deal compared to the fact that someone was never getting dinner again.

“I feel really bitter right now,” he said. “Why do I have to take this one?” He put his phone down and gave me a long stare. “I was really looking forward to tonight.”

My insides warmed up. “Me too, but I’ll take a raincheck.”

Marner gave a groan of frustration. “Damn it, don’t look at me like that. Do you want to stay and finish your drink or do you want me to walk you to your car?” He was already flagging the bartender down to pay the check.

“I’ll just stay for a minute. I’ll check some email and enjoy my floral booze. No sense in wasting it.”

“That’s my girl.” He took a swallow of his bourbon and laid down cash to pay for our drinks. “I’ll call you later.” He stood up and touched my cheek before giving me a quick kiss.

“Bye, be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He gave me a wave and left.

I decided to text my best friend Alyssa. Now that I was out, I didn’t want to just return home, and being alone had images of Nick popping into my head. Fortunately Alyssa was always up for an excuse to have a dinner she didn’t cook and a drink or two, so I only had to wait by myself thirty minutes before she arrived. I had nursed my way slowly through my cocktail and ordered a cheese board to nibble on. Alyssa strode in, looking like she’d been born to sing sexy blues, sprawled across a piano. She had a retro polka dot dress on, with yellow T-strap pumps, and her signature red lips.

“Why have I never been here before?” she asked, sitting on the stool next to me. “I love this vibe.”

“I have no idea. It’s definitely perfect for you.” I popped a grape into my mouth. “Have some cheese. We can have a drink here then go for dinner.”

“Awesome. So what happened to Jake?”

“A body was found in a warehouse. Suspected homicide, so he had to go.”

“That sucks.”

“Exactly what I said.”

“Like how gross is that? Come to work and check out this corpse. No thank you.” She made a face and went for the cheese. “I prefer my mindless data.”

Alyssa was a math genius who did data analysis, plus a bit of staging on the side for me. She had a great eye for color. “I prefer fresh flowers and chevron-patterned throw rugs myself.” I wished like hell I could tell her about seeing Cezar Wozniak’s ghost, but Alyssa, for all her quirks and open-mindedness, was not a big believer in the spiritual world. Too bad, because she would be a great ally. She wasn’t as much of a rule follower as I was. She would be more daring in creating plans to sneak into places I wasn’t technically supposed to be.

“But somebody has to do it, so there’s that. Just glad it’s other people.” Alyssa studied the cocktail menu. “Holy crap, there are seventy-two drinks on here. I never knew there were so many combinations of alcohol and vermouth.”

“How’s Michael, by the way?” I asked, spreading brie on a cracker. “I know you went out with him again, so don’t even deny it. I saw the picture on your Instagram.”

“I don’t do anything that I have to deny,” she said with faux dignity. “Yes, I went out with Michael. Yes, it was fun. Yes, I’m being stupid to date a guy who was a jerkface to me in high school. No, I’m not going to fall in love with him.”

That made me grin. “Well, that covers that.” Alyssa had started out revenge dating Michael, but clearly she had found there was something to be said for the former bully turned businessman. “Next subject.”

“Boom. Exactly. Let me order this drinkie-poo and then I will tell you all about the gossip Michael told me about Cara Parker from high school. Remember her? Most Likely to Succeed? Hardly, unless you call seducing your fourteen-year-old student a success.”

“What? Oh geez, that’s horrible.” I remembered Cara, of course. She was an “It Girl” back in the day. She was popular, well-dressed, a great student. And allegedly involved in a sexting scandal, but it died on the vine without any formal charges or consequences, so those of us on the fringe had assumed it was nothing. Just some photos exchanged between her and her boyfriend. But to hear that a decade-plus later she was still trolling the hallways of a high school for “dates” was crazy.

Alyssa launched into all the sordid details as I tucked into my second cocktail, grateful for the distraction from my bizarre day.

Cheese wasn’t sufficient as a dinner, and as ten minutes turned into ninety, I realized I was slightly (okay, possibly more than a little) buzzed from the gin, and I suggested we get dinner pronto. It was as we were prying our numb butts off our barstools that Marner called me. Hopeful he might be able to join us for dinner I answered.

“Hey, mister, what’s up?” I was feeling warm and fuzzy and happy to hear from him.

“Do you know a guy named Cezar Wozniak?” was his greeting.

That was not the voice of a man who found me delightful.

“He’s a new client. I’m staging his lake house out in Ashtabula.”

“Some delivery guy found his body in a warehouse on the east bank of the Flats. He has a bullet in his chest.”

One, I had found Cezar’s body without even trying, so yay. Two, Marner was pissed off, so boo. My mind wasn’t quite as sharp as it should be, thanks to the gin. “Oh, that’s horrible,” I said, because that’s what you say. It was horrible. Somewhere Cezar’s single sons would be informed their father was deceased, and that was something no one should have to go through.

“You don’t sound shocked.”

“I sound caught off-guard,” I said, leaning against the barstool. “I never met him in person. I only had phone and email communications with him, but it’s still shocking.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Yesterday.” If you didn’t count when I spoke to his ghost today. “I made arrangements to go over there today.”

“The reason I’m asking is because you were the last call he made on his cellphone.”

That was actually unnerving. A shiver rolled up my back. “That’s actually really creepy.”

“Did he say what he had planned? Was he supposed to be there at the house today?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. And no, he gave me the code to the lockbox. It was my understanding he wasn’t there that often. It’s a summer weekend house.” I was walking a fine line. I knew he had been killed in that house and his body moved, but there was no way I could tell Marner that. I hated lying to him, but I didn’t exactly have a choice.

“Was anything out of the ordinary at the house?”

“It was my first time there, so I don’t have any comparison, but there was nothing out of place, unless you call gold carpet out of place in a lake house, which I do.” I still felt the need to shake my head over that. I debated when and how to confess that I had seen Cezar’s ghost, thought it was a body, and called 9-1-1. In total wimpy fashion, I decided that on the phone wasn’t the way to go. Nor was telling him while he was at work.

“This isn’t funny, Bailey.” There was censure in his voice.

Which of course made me feel defensive. “I’m not laughing, Jake. But I didn’t see anything that screamed crime scene.”

He sighed. “Why is it that I have a girlfriend who is constantly connected to murders?”

Okay, one, he had never called me his girlfriend before. That was interesting. Two, I didn’t seek out murder, so that was totally unfair. “I’m a home stager with a low risk life-style. This isn’t my fault.”

“Date a nice girl, my mother said.”

That annoyed me. “Don’t date me because your mother wants you too.”

Alyssa’s eyes widened as she listened to my half of the conversation.

“That’s not what I said. Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Well, don’t accuse me of being connected to murder as if I brought it on myself. That’s not fair. Especially since I just had to stare Nick Pitrello in the eye in a courtroom.”

There was a long pause and for a second I thought he had hung up on me. But then he said, “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” His voice was low, remorseful.

It touched me and deflated my anger. “Thanks. I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything more about Mr. Wozniak.”

“Okay. I—"

Whatever he was going to say he didn’t finish. “Yes?” I asked, when the silence dragged on too long.

“Nothing,” he said gruffly. “I’ll talk to you later. Are you back home?”

“No, Alyssa is with me. We just finished our cocktails and we’re going to dinner.” I was having fun, but I would have preferred to be with him tonight. I almost said that, but I didn’t want to be that girl. The one who makes her guy feel guilty for having to work. I wouldn’t want him dishing that out to me.

“Good. I’m glad you’re doing something. Okay, I gotta go.”

We ended the call and I turned to Alyssa. “One of my clients was murdered. How crazy is that?”

“What? Which one?”

“Cezar Wozniak. The lake house out in Ashtabula County.”

“Is that new? I don’t know that client.”

“Yes, just this week. I went to the house for the first time today and now they’ve found his body in some abandoned warehouse.”

“Holy crap.” Alyssa started toward the door. “Do you still want to go to dinner?”

“Absolutely.” I didn’t want to go home alone. I had a strong feeling that Cezar would be showing up tonight wanting to chat, and I was hoping to avoid that until after I had a full stomach. “I never met Cezar. This is so weird to think that someone I’ve only talked to via phone and email is gone.”

We stepped out onto the sidewalk. “So was Jake being a jerk about it or something?” she asked.

I waved my hand, not really wanting to talk about it. “He just said it’s weird that I seem to be connected to a lot of murders lately. What, like I want this? I mean, I was in this guy’s house today. What if I was in danger?” I shuddered. “It’s not like I want any part of this.”

Alyssa shook her head. “Maybe you should think about taking a break from dating Jake.”

That surprised me. “What, why? I thought you were Team Marner.”

“I was. But it seems like he can be judgmental of you.”

I didn’t agree with that at all. He was actually very supportive and never gave me crap about anything. Except about Ryan. And that was just jealousy, for whatever reason. “He’s a good guy. He’s the most reasonable guy I’ve ever dated, actually.” The street was noisy for being a weekday. There were people everywhere, drawn out by the unseasonably warm weather. If the sun shines in Cleveland, you get your butt outside. It’s just a rule. “I am starving. Where are we going?”

“I say Greenhouse Tavern. I want meat.”

So did I. “Sounds good. By the way, I saw Nick Pitrello in court today. I don’t know what I was expecting, but he didn’t look remotely sorry. He looked amused.”

“That’s because he’s a sociopath.” She shot me a worried look. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged. “I’ll live.” That made me laugh. “No pun intended.”