Deadly Row, A - By Casey Mayes Page 0,2

and I could almost hear her shout of joy as she finished.

I transferred the completed puzzle to a pristine sheet of paper, then studied the finished puzzle one last time before I faxed it to Derrick—my syndicate editor—a man I was not particularly fond of, despite the checks he sent me for every completed puzzle.

After glancing at my computer email and stalling a half dozen other ways, I realized I couldn’t delay my trek upstairs any longer.

I was going to have to help with that blasted shelf after all. I knew it was going to be miserably hot up there, but there was no way to avoid it. I’d promised for better or for worse on our wedding day, and enduring scalding temperatures helping install a shelf I didn’t really need was just one more check in the worse column, though that side was happily sparse.

My foot was on the bottom step when the telephone rang, and in my ignorance, I nearly skipped as I raced to answer it. If I’d known who was calling—and more importantly why—I would have pulled the blasted thing out of the wall and chucked the telephone out the window instead of picking the receiver up.

“Hello,” I said, not suspecting a thing was amiss.

“Er, hello, Savannah. I need to speak with Zach.”

Before I could protest, he hastily added, “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

I didn’t need caller ID to tell me who was on the other end of the line. At least he’d had the decency to sound embarrassed by his request.

“Sorry, Davis. You can’t. He’s busy right now.” Zach would have killed me if he’d overheard my end of the conversation, but I was tired of him being bothered by his former employees. It wasn’t just because they were reluctant to pay for his services, though they felt free to tap into his knowledge any time it suited them. I didn’t care about the money—we were doing just fine on his retirement and my income—but I didn’t like anyone taking advantage of him.

I started to hang up when I heard a whining protest. “Savannah, please. This is something he needs to hear.”

I took a deep breath, and then said, “Davis Rawles, my husband is retired. He doesn’t work with you anymore. He’s a consultant now. If you’d like his fee schedule, I’d be glad to fax it over to you.”

“Send it. You know the number. There shouldn’t be any problem covering it this time.”

That caught me off guard. I’d never dreamed I’d hear him say he was actually willing to pay for Zach’s services. He must be in real trouble. “What’s going on, Davis?”

“Savannah, Zach is my very last option. We’ve got a killer case on our hands, and there’s no one but your husband who can solve it.”

Davis Rawles had been my husband’s immediate subordinate on the police force, and upon Zach’s retirement, Davis had stepped into his shoes. At least he’d tried to. But no one could get inside a criminal’s mind like my husband, and Davis had grown to rely on him too much in the past few months since my husband’s retirement.

I’d never heard that level of desperation in Davis’s voice before, and there was something about it that chilled my blood. This sounded too dangerous to me, and it wasn’t my husband’s battle anymore. “You know what? I’m sorry, but the answer’s still no. You’ll just have to muddle through this time by yourself,” I said, and then on an impulse, I hung up the phone.

Please, oh please, don’t let Zach have heard that ring.

To my dismay, his size 12 shoes clomped down the steps two at a time a second later. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Wrong number,” I mumbled, hoping he’d take me at my word.

There must have been something in my voice that told him I was lying, no matter how hard I’d tried to disguise it.

“Savannah,” he said softly. There was a steel edge as he said my name that made me bite my lower lip.

“It was Davis,” I admitted. Never lie to your husband, I told myself yet again, especially when he’s a retired police detective.

“What did he want?” Zach asked keenly. I could see his yearning for another murder or jewel theft. He was like a racehorse waiting for the gate to open, eager and chomping at the bit.

“He was asking about the weather here,” I said lamely. Even I wouldn’t believe that one. Without waiting for my husband to comment, I