Read Curiosity Thrilled the Cat for Free Online

head. “I only met him last night. He came into the library looking to use a computer. But the computer room wasn’t ready. That’s why I was looking for Oren this morning.”
    The detective stared intently at me. Did he think maybe I’d break and admit that I’d been having a torrid affair with Gregor Easton and that he’d died while we were having wild monkey sex on the piano?
    “When I realized he was dead, I came back outside and called nine-one-one,” I said.
    He glanced back at the theater. “Did you touch anything?” he asked. He’d missed a tiny patch of stubble on the left side of his jawline when he’d shaved.
    I thought for a moment. “The stage door,” I said. “The curtain. And I touched Mr. Easton’s arm.”
    “That’s it?”
    “I think so,” I said. The silver charm was in my pocket. I pulled it out and handed it to him. “I almost stepped on this,” I said. “And there was something spilled on the floor in the hallway. I think I may have gotten it on my shoes.”
    I grabbed the back of the bench and held up my right foot. He leaned over to look at the sole of my shoe.
    “I’m going to need your shoes, Ms. Paulson.”
    I put my foot down carefully. “I have a pair at my office at the library. May I go get them?”
    “I’m also going to need your fingerprints,” he said. “Officer Craig will take you to your office and then he’ll take you to the station to be fingerprinted—if that’s all right with you?”
    It was the kind of question you didn’t say no to. So I didn’t.
    Officer Craig was the patrolman. He looked to be about twenty, with his close-cropped boot-camp haircut. He drove to the library and stayed with me while I got my tai chi shoes from my office. He took a bag out of his trunk, sealed my running shoes inside and actually gave me a receipt for them. Then we drove to the police station, where I had my fingerprints taken.
    Officer Craig drove me back to the library. I went into the staff room and put on a pot of coffee. Even though I’d already washed my hands with some sort of industrial-strength Day-Glo orange cleaner at the police station, I washed them again.
    I was worried about Oren. He didn’t have a cell phone. If something had happened to him . . . I’d just poured a cup of coffee when I heard a tapping on the main doors. I could see Detective Gordon through the glass. I unlatched the metal gate and unlocked the door.
    “Ms. Paulson, I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “I have a few more questions.”
    I opened the door wider. “Come in,” I said. Maybe I could get him to look for Oren. I locked the door behind him but left the gate open.
    “You don’t have an alarm system?” he asked, eyeing the metal barricade with its spiderweb design. The gates were almost as old as the building.
    I smiled. “No. Up till now the only thing in this building has been books. It’s not like someone was going to break in to read.”
    He smiled at that. He had a nice smile, with even white teeth and a strong jawline.
    “We can talk in the staff room,” I said, leading the way up to the second level.
    My coffee cup was on the table. I saw him look at it.
    “Detective Gordon, would you like a cup of coffee?” I asked. “I just made it.”
    “Thank you. I would,” he said. “Black with two sugars, if you have it.”
    I did. I handed him a steaming mug. He wrapped both hands around it and drank, then looked at me. “It’s good. Thanks.”
    I remembered the muffins then. I’d carried them around for a while, but they were wrapped in wax paper inside the bag and they hadn’t been dropped or sat on. The bag was by the sink. I put two muffins on a plate and set it and a napkin in front of him.
    My palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my capris and sat down opposite the detective. This time he pulled out a small notebook and a pen.
    “Ms. Paulson, you said you were looking for Oren Kenyon this morning. Did you have an appointment?”
    “No. But as I told