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the first place. Then you practically accused Shep of being somehow involved.”
    “Look,” he snarled, grabbing a hold of my shoulders. “I don’t want you getting hurt. A woman was just killed here. What were you thinking coming here alone, in the dark?”
    My eyes roamed his face. His eyes were wild, his skin flushed, his hair tussled. I could feel the intensity of his emotion and a rush of heat crept over me as I struggled not to lean into him. Whatever I was feeling was wrong. He was getting married. It was over between us.
    I searched for something to say to squelch the heat rising in me : admit an error, change the subject, anything. “Okay. You’re right. I do need to be more careful. I did find something interesting, though. There was this box of books from an estate sale, marked Sokolov. I think there could be a connection.”
    There, I’d got it out. I felt a speck of pride as I waited for his reply. Certainly he’d be pleased with my discovery.
    He began rubbing his temples.
    “So,” I continued. “When your guys get the books could you have them look around for a black se quined purse? It’s damaged a bit, but—”
    “This is why it didn’t work out with us,” he practically shouted. “You can’t stay out of things.”
    “What!” Suddenly the temperature in my hot head matched the heat in my lower extremities. Surprising how I could go from intense desire to downright ticked-off. “It didn’t work out with us because you never could commit to any sort of serious relationship. Although you don’t have that problem now , do you?” It was my turn to get in his face. I began jamming my finger into his chest to emphasize every word. “You and Sarah deserve each other. And you want to know who hasn’t changed? You. You’re still a jerk.” 
    I started toward my car. “Where are you going?” he called after me.
    “I’m leaving.” I turned and shot him a daring look. “Unless you’re planning to arrest me.” I glanced over to the other cops. They were each pretending to be wrapped up in some sort of task, but I knew they were hanging on every word. Well, I didn’t care.
    I dramatically held out my wrists. “Well?” I taunted in my loudest voice.
    He looked down, not responding. So, I turned and walked away.
    Thinking back on it later, I wished I wouldn’t have been so dramatic. Had I just been just a little nicer, maybe he would have let me retrieve the books. They were fair game since they were in the dumpster anyway, even if behind a locked fence. If I’d really gotten on his good side maybe I could have even talked him into picking up that black sequined purse with the broken strap. I just hated to see a repairable discard go to waste.
     

     
    Chapter 6
     
    The next morning, I grabbed a bagel and twisted the top off a soda. Not much of a coffee drinker, I preferred to derive my daily caffeine fix from soda with its sugar kicker. Wearing my best jeans—or at least the only pair I could get buttoned—and a practically new fleece hoodie, I loaded the back of my station wagon with boxes to ship later in the afternoon. My first stop, however, was going to be the Retro Metro, where I hoped to find my elusive friend, Shep.
    Ogden Avenue was packed with morning commuters, so it was almost nine when I finally made it to Westmont. A few more turns and I was pulling into the lot of the Retro Metro. I glanced at the brick-fronted warehouse which housed three stories of consignment heaven. Shep had a knack, that’s for sure. Only he could convert a nuts and bolts warehouse into the best consignment shop in the tri-state area.
    Although they weren’t officially opened for business until ten, I knew that several employees would be in setting up displays and sorting through merchandise. I rapped on the door for a couple of minutes before anyone came to answer.
    “We’re not open yet,” a young guy announced through the closed door.
    “I know. I’m here to talk to Shep. I’m a