Amanda Matetsky - Murder is a Girls Best Friend (Paige Turner Mystery)

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have the best group of cheerleaders in the world, and I heartily thank them all: Harry Matetsky, Molly Murrah, Liza, Tim, Tara and Kate Clancy, Ira Matetsky, Matthew Greitzer, Rae and Joel Frank, Sylvia Cohen, Mary Lou and Dick Clancy, Ann Waldron, Nelson DeMille, Dianne Francis, Art Scott, Betsy Thornton, Santa and Tom De Haven, Nikki and Bert Miller, Herta Puleo, Marte Cameron, Cameron Joy, Sandra Thompson and Chris Sherman, Donna and Michael Steinhorn, Gayle Rawlings and Debbie Marshall, Regina Grassia, Joan Unice, Judy Capriglione, Martha Cevasco, Betty Fitzsimmons, Nancy Francese, Jane Gudapati, Carleen Kierce, April Margolin, Margaret Ray, Doris Schweitzer, Carol Smith, Roberta Waugh and her saintly sidekick, Joseph.

I send heaps of gratitude and good wishes to my dear friends at Literacy Volunteers of America-Nassau County, Inc., and my fellow mystery writers and readers at Sisters in Crime-Central Jersey. And to my wonderful co-agents, Annelise Robey and Meg Ruley of the Jane Rotrosen Agency, and my superlative editor at Penguin Group, Martha Bushko, I shout THANK YOU at the top of my lungs.

Epilogue

HAVE YOU EVER WOKEN UP FROM A CRAZY dream believing that all the wild and scary things you dreamt about had actually taken place? Well, thats what happened to me when I came to that night in the hospital. Except it happened in reverse. I woke up believing that all the wild and scary things that had actually taken place were nothing but a crazy dream.

It took a few minutes for my sense of reality to returnfor me to realize that the bed I was lying in was not my own; that my body was all bandaged up for a reason. And when I turned my head to the side and saw Dan sitting in a chair right next to the bed, staring at me intently (and oh-so-seriously) with his searing black eyes, I had all the proof I needed that the ghastly scenes swirling around like smoke in my head had really occurred.

I dont know whether to kiss you or kick you, Dan said, making his conflicting emotions conspicuously clear. But since you look like a Martian with that silly thing on your head, Ive got to kiss you. A girl in a space suit drives me crazy. With that, he raised himself out of his chair, leaned over the bed railing, cupped my face in his big warm hands, and planted the worlds steamiest kiss on my startled but delighted mouth. (And I had thought black silk underwear would turn Dan on! Apparently hair dryer hoods and hospital gowns were more to his liking.)

As soon as he pried his luscious lips away and my heartbeat returned to normal, I sputtered, Why did they leave me like this? They could have removed the cap and take the curlers out!

The docs and nurses had a few more important things to take care of, Dan said. In the Emergency Room, believe it or not, gunshot wounds take precedence over hairdos.

I didnt want to be reminded of the gun, or the shots, or the wounds. What time is it? I asked, quickly changing the uncomfortable topic.

He looked at his watch. Four-thirty in the morning.

Oh, shoot! (As soon as those words were out of my mouth, I wished Id thought of a betteri.e., less ballisticway to express my disappointment.)

Whats the matter, babe? Dan gave me one of his cocky, sexy, melt-your-bones-to-molasses smiles. Past your bedtime?

No, its past Christmas! I exclaimed. And I never got to give you your present, or even wish you a happy holiday!

Dan chuckled for a second, then turned serious. Just knowing youre alive makes all my days happy.

Joy to the world! I sang to myself. A girl could get used to this. I should get almost killed more often.

But these jubilant feelings didnt last long. Because before I knew it, Dans whole demeanor had changed. One minute he was lovey-dovey and all smiles, and the next he was busting a gasket, ranting and raving like Joe McCarthy himself, telling me off for risking my precious life just so I could play detective in yet another unsolved murder case.

Terry and Abby had told him the whole story, he said, and he didnt care how many times Bob had saved Terrys life in Korea, or how hard Terry had begged me to help him find his little sisters killer, or how much I wanted to write a story about the murder, I should never, ever, ever have gotten involved the way I did. It was an outrageous, unheard-of, unconscionable thing for me to do, and I should have my head examined for even thinking that I could solve another homicide.

(At this particular point in timewhile I was lying there immobile on my back and bandaged up like a mummyI was inclined to agree with him. But I didnt tell him that, of course.)

Dan was really, really angry that I hadnt told him about the case and asked himto look into Judys murder. Why the hell did I keep it a secret from him? Did I actually believe that I was so much smarter than he was? Did I really think I could conduct a better murder investigation than the whole darn NYPD? And how dare I put myself in so goddamn much danger?! Did I ever stop to think how horrible it would be for him if I were killed and he had to head up a search for m y murderer?

I had to admit (to myself and to Dan) that that particular thought hadnt once crossed my mind. And then I had to apologizeprofuselyfor my lack of consideration. And my lack of trust. And my reckless self-endangerment. And my idiotically inflated head. (Dans words, not mine.)

But nothing I said would soothe the savage beastnot even my emotional protestations about the laziness and inef fectualness of Detective Hugo Sweeny, or my sworn testimony that I thought he (Dan) would never interfere in another precincts homicide investigation.

He most certainly would have interfered, Dan claimed (more vociferously than I care to remember). Especially since he already knew what a shiftless sonofabitch Sweeny was, and how incompetent hed been in the past, and how hed begun closing cases prematurely because his retirement was coming up soon and he wanted to leave the job with a clean slate. And even if he didnt know all that stuff about Sweeny, Dan insisted, he would have seen to it that the Catcher case was reopened. With so much glaring evidence in hand, thats what any good cop would do.

Okay, okay! So I was a stupid fool. And everything Dan said to me in the hospital that night (I mean morning) was totally legitimate. I really should have told him about Judys murder. And about the diamonds. And I should have revealed everything at the very beginningthe same day Terry met me at the automat and asked me to help him find the creep who had killed his sister.

But you understand why I didnt, dont you? You know how overwhelmed I was by Terrys pain and sorrow, and by his desperate plea for help, and by the fact that he had been so close to my late husband in his final days. And you also know how crazy Dan would have gone if I had even tried to discuss the details of the Judy Catcher murder case with him, right? No matter what Dan says, all hell would have broken loose! And he would have banished me from the investigation. He would have forced me to give up my search... and give up my story... and, well, give up my natural (though most would say unnatural) career goals.

So what was a girl supposed to do? Be true to her late husband... or to her new boyfriend... or to herself? Finding that question impossible to answer, I chose to dodge the truth altogether. I heaved a heavy sigh, closed my weary eyes, and fell into a sleep so deep it was deadly.

I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL FOR A WEEK, AND Dan came to visit every day. He was still mad at me, but he was also still pretty crazy about me (I could tell by the way his strong, craggy face turned all mushy when he thought I wasnt looking). And, as much as he didnt want to rehashor give credence tomy involvement in the Judy Catcher case, he couldnt curb his professional curiosity, or stop himself from picking up the investigation where Id left off.

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