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moved from a small rural town to attend university.  The play was T he Glass Menagerie and it had stunned her senses.  She identified with Laura, the pathologically shy young woman who lived in a private world of glass animals and old phonograph records.   She knew the reason she related so well.  She suffered too from a life-long painful shyness, haunted by the ‘otherness’ of people; tongue tied, self-conscious, at school, at home , at work .   
    Loud, persistent coughing from the woman seated a row behind disrupted of her thoughts.  She was trying to immerse herself back into her reverie when she was struck by a horrid thought.  She turned to her friend.
    “Tell me, Susan, please, that you don’t know a single person involved in this play?”
    “I know two, the Director, Jeffrey Stone and the Producer, Henry Ward.  No, wait a minute, make that four, I know their wives as well, Catherine and Cheryl.  No, sorry, make it five.  I forgot about Eleanor; she’s in charge of set design and costumes. I went to boarding school with sister, Alice.  I have memories of her trailing behind us on weekends, a bit of an oddball ...WHAT? ”
    “Listen to me, Susan.  If you value our friendship, you’ll keep your distance from whatever is going on backstage. The police will handle it.  I’m not; hear me, NOT, getting involved in another murder case.”
    “Relax. My ambitions to be a sleu th have been wiped as clean as the doctor’s operating table.   Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so enthusiastic in my wave to Kate; I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong impression”.
    “No need to fear, Susan, Kate and Roger would move heaven and hell to keep us out of police business.”
    Chapter 1
     
    Kate lifted her arm towards the snooze button , remembered the early morning briefing before the interviews and threw back the covers. Her head pounded as she stumbled to the shower, headaches were ever present during murder investigations due to the sheer lack of sleep.
    As the h ot water pound ed away her body’s stiffness, she thought about the messages waiting on her answering machine when she got home.  T he first one was from Abir who left the typical rant.  So rry she hadn’t been able to join them ; they had a good time without her; and, if she continued in her career as a homicide detective , they were sure to continue having g ood times without her .  Please let them know about this Saturday night.
    The second message interfered with her sleep.  It had been from David wanting to know if she was free next weekend.  It was time to face the music.  The ir relationship was going nowhere; it was time to end it.  He was too dependent, too needy.  It didn’t start that way.
    They met over a year ago at detective’s conference in New Brunswick.  The attraction was immediate and the romance b lossomed.  Maybe it was all those back and forth trips to each other’s city that cooled things down.  She wasn’t sure.  One thing she was sure of though, his feelings hadn’t cooled towards her.  In fact, just the opposite was happening – vague hints surfacing about long term commitment.  David was fourteen years older than her, divorced, and had a 16 year old daughter .  He didn’t come baggage free but then who did?  
    On his promotion to Chief Inspector in charge of the detective division , his work schedule doubled and they saw each other less and less. Slowly, their relationship began to change.  David lost interest in going out, preferring to spend their time together inside either his or her apartment, cooking meals , talking about the breakup of his marriage, his concern over the impact it would have on his daughter and the guilt he experienced over his failure.
    He t reat ed her like a sob sister.  Their intimacy took a nose dive, her passion cooled. She became bored followed by guilt.  He was a great guy who deserved another chance.  But not with her.  S he kept stalling, worried about his