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“I know,” she said, darting a smile at her husband. “But he’s my moron.”

Gary’s expression of devotion had melted away, replaced by a scornful look. He abruptly got up and dusted off his nice pair of pants. “Women,” he spat. “You’re all the same, aren’t you? Playing fast and loose with people’s affections.”

“You better take that back, buddy,” said Tex now.

“I’m not taking anything back,” said Gary. “Your wife is just like all the other women who pretended to like what I said, and then turned around and filed a complaint against me. Sexual harassment, my foot. You’re all a bunch of airheads!”

There was a sort of whirl and a whizzing sound, and the next moment, Gary Rapp stood touching his cheek in surprise. Those nice flowers Tex had been holding now lay on the floor, and red dots appeared on the editor’s cheek where the thorns had punctured his skin. “Mano a mano,” Tex said, holding up his fists in a pugilistic stance. “You and me, and may the best man win!”

But Gary gave the doctor one scathing look, then turned and left the library.

“Come back here!” Tex cried. “You coward!”

But Gary clearly had no intention to come back and fight the good doctor. Instead, he slammed the door on his way out.

“That’s disappointing,” said Tex, who looked thoroughly surprised.

“Oh, Tex,” said Marge, as she eyed her husband with gleaming eyes. “That’s probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“He said some really bad things about you, honey,” said Tex.

“Come here,” she said when she saw that his hand was bleeding. And as she kissed the spot, he wrapped her into his arms, and when Margaret Samson emerged from between the racks of books, clutching a tome called‘Dirty Talk,’ she found a middle-aged couple fervently kissing, as if they just met for the first time.

The old lady smiled and sighed a happy little sigh.

Sometimes romance happened in real life, too.

CHAPTER 33

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Odelia was walking from her office to the precinct when a gray Mercedes parked next to her and a woman stepped out of the vehicle. She almost bumped into her, and a look of recognition passed over the other person’s face.

“Odelia Kingsley, isn’t it?” asked Deith Madison.

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Madison,” said Odelia. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

“I know. And I’ve been trying to stave you off,” said the woman with a vague smile. “I should have known that reporters are worse than pit bulls once they’ve picked up the scent of their prey.” She sighed resignedly. “So just ask what you want to ask, and I’ll try and answer you as truthfully as possible. How about that?”

“That’s all I want,” said Odelia, who was feeling inordinately pleased that Deith Madison had compared her to a pit bull. “Last time we spoke you denied that your husband was having an affair with his personal assistant. You called it filth and lies and threatened to sue my newspaper if we dared to print the story.”

Deith studied Odelia for a moment, then finally relented.“Michael and I enjoyed a marriage of convenience. He had his affairs and I had mine. And in the meantime we had an understanding that we would never get divorced. It was an arrangement that was mutually beneficial. It provided Michael with the benefit of a vast fortune that I inherited from my side of the family, and it provided me with the connections that he made through the work that he did. So yes, it doesn’t surprise me that he was having an affair with his personal assistant.”

“Who is now pregnant with his baby.”

Deith’s expression darkened. “Michael was usually very careful about these things. So when he told me Natalie was pregnant, I have to admit I was upset. We had an arrangement, but that didn’t include having kids with other women.”

“Which gave you a solid motive for his murder,” Odelia pointed out.

Deith threw back her head and laughed.“Oh, honey, if Mike knocking up some girl gave me a motive to murder him, I would have done it a long time ago. This wasn’t the first time this happened. And even though I was furious, I wasn’t going to kill him over it. So please spare me the amateur detective stuff.”

“Were you really home the night your husband was killed, Mrs. Madison?”

“I was,” she said. “Michael and I lived separate lives. I lived in my part of the house, and he lived in his. We still spent plenty of time together, but it was an arrangement that suited us both very well.” She gave Odelia a look of amusement, then took out her phone and showed her a phonenumber.

“What’s this?” asked Odelia.

“My alibi,” said Deith. “It’s my boyfriend’s number. Call him and he’ll confirm that he was with me all night that night. I didn’t want to go through the bother of dragging him into this mess, but someone told me you’re the chief of police’s niece, and that your husband is the detective investigating my husband’s death. So before you haul me away, accusing me of all kinds of stuff, please call Alain.”

“Alain?” said Odelia, dutifully entering the number into her phone.