Read No Such Thing As a Good Blind Date: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) for Free Online Page B

from Fritzy’s Sports Bar.
    I cupped my hand around the mouthpiece. “He’s old,” I whispered.
    “What?”
    “He’s old,” I said again, only slightly louder.
    “I can’t hear you. Say it again,” Janine bellowed.
    “She said, ‘He’s old.’”
    I whipped around to find Barry smiling back at me from the couch. He may be old but he has excellent hearing.
    “I gotta go.” I hung up the phone.
    “Brandy,” Barry said, rising up from the couch, “you’re delightful. But I’m sure I’m not what you had in mind when you signed up for this evening. Maybe we should call it a night.”
    “No. Really. We’re just getting to know each other. Um, I’m just going to go check on dinner.”
    Barry followed me into the kitchen where we found Rocky stretched length-wise on top of the lasagna, digging her claws into the freshly baked noodles. Unhhh! If Barry hadn’t been standing right there, I would have just spread some more sauce on top and prayed he wasn’t allergic to cat fur, but seeing as he’d just witnessed this culinary debacle, I was hard pressed to pretend it was still edible. My chances of looking like a competent, employable person were disintegrating along with the meal.
    “Rocky!” I admonished, acting like this was the very first time she’d ever done such a thing. She didn’t look one bit sorry that I was going to spend the rest of my working life fetching margaritas for Paul’s lowlife customers. “Barry, I’m sorry.”
    “No, really, it’s not a problem,” he said, trying hard not to look nauseated. “Look, maybe this is a sign that the evening just wasn’t meant to be.” He reached for his coat and began walking towards the front door, taking my dreams for the future along with him.
    “Don’t be silly,” I said, hauling him back in. “Just a minor setback.”
    Frantically, I wracked my brain for something else to serve him. There were some kosher hotdogs in the back of the freezer, but they just didn’t seem festive enough. Then I remembered Toodie’s steaks. “I’ve got some steaks in the freezer in the basement. We can defrost them in no time.” I could tell he didn’t want to, but he was too polite to turn me down.
    “Here we go,” I said, sidestepping Toodie’s left-handed golf clubs and the broken bike. I tugged on the freezer door but it wouldn’t open. Something seemed to be jamming it. I tried again. Nothing. Oh great. The stupid door won’t budge.
    “Ya know, Brandy, I’m not even hungry. Why don’t we just forget dinner?”
    “No, no. If you can just give me a hand here.” I picked a golf club out of the bag and nudged it through the door handle. We each grabbed an end and pulled. Nada. “I think we’ve got it. Just one more, good tug and—”
    “It’s not doing a bit of good and—look out, the damn thing is tipping over!”
    “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”
    Barry gave up and moved to the side while I continued to battle the door. I yanked as hard as I could and suddenly the freezer pitched forward practically on top of my head. The door flung open, spilling the contents onto the floor.
    “Dinner!” I yelled, oblivious to what had tumbled out of the freezer.
    Barry stared back at me in unabashed horror.
    “What? Oh no, don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian. You should have told me you don’t eat meat before I went to all the trouble of opening the door.”
    “You’re insane,” he gasped, all signs of civility gone. He began backing away from me, crab-crawling his way to the farthest corner of the room.
    “Well, that’s the thanks I get for trying to provide a nice meal for you, and—hey, what’s that leg doing on the floor?” The words were out of my mouth before the thought fully registered. I looked around. And an arm, and a torso, and—Oh my God! The sound of my own screams echoed in my ear as the floor rose up to meet me.

Chapter Three
     
    “Brandy. Honey, wake up.” The voice belonged to Homicide Detective Robert Anthony