Read Scared Stiff for Free Online

“You’re not really going to—”
    “Of course not,” I shoot back. “But Hurley doesn’t have to know the guy is as exciting as a blank wall. That’s what he gets for agreeing to go out with Alison.”
    “Whose clutches you left him in,” Izzy points out.
    I frown, realizing I haven’t thought things through all the way. “You don’t think they’ll actually stay together, do you? It sounded to me like Hurley planned to spend the rest of the night doing investigative work.”
    “And Alison is an investigative reporter.”
    “Damn,” I mutter.
    Izzy shakes his head and sighs. “You really are rusty when it comes to this flirting stuff.”
    “Well, what do you expect? I spent the last seven years married to David, and while he may have been honing his flirting skills, I sure as hell wasn’t.”
    “Well, if Hurley is truly interested, and I think he is,” Izzy adds, making me flush with delight, “he’s going to spend some of his time tonight investigating you. That means you should try to hook up with William again for real. Otherwise it undermines your whole ploy. Hurley will know you were just yanking his chain.”
    I look over at Izzy, hoping to see a sly grin on his face, but he looks deadly serious. “Are you kidding me? I’d rather have leech therapy than spend another minute with that loser.”
    “Hey, don’t blame me,” Izzy says with a shrug. “You got yourself into this mess.”
    “Besides, I couldn’t hook back up with William-not-Bill even if I wanted to. I don’t have his number.”
    “I do.”
    Crap. I sulk for a minute, then say, “Do you really think Hurley’s going to try to watch me?”
    “I’ve got ten bucks says he does. In fact, just to guard my bet, how about if Dom and I go with you? We can make it a foursome.”
    I consider what he suggests and realize that Izzy and Dom can provide a good buffer zone between me and Mr. OCD. What the heck. I can use a drink and it will be interesting to see if Hurley does show up.
    “Okay, you’re on,” I tell him, secretly hoping I’m going to lose. “But I have to warn you. If William-not-Bill starts counting the swizzle sticks, I’m either going to kill him or bail.”

Chapter 7
     
    O nce we arrive at the office and secure all of our evidence, I take a quick shower in the unisex bathroom and put on the change of clothes I have in my office: a pair of jeans and a blue cowl-neck sweater.
    Beneath it all is my brand-spanking new underwear, much sexier than my old stuff. During the Karen Owenby case, a slight dressing mishap led to a pair of my old undies getting mistakenly tagged as evidence, but not before Hurley held them up before a crowd of cops and likened them to a schooner sail. There isn’t much I can do about the size, but at least my elastic is now intact and there are enough frilly enhancements to hopefully distract one from the quantity of cloth involved.
    I look in the mirror and decide I’ll pass muster. The blue in the clothes sets off the blue of my eyes, and my hair—thanks to the miraculous ministrations of my new hairdresser, Barbara—looks passable. As a final touch, I throw on a minimum of makeup and a tiny spritz of perfume to cover up any lingering smells of blood, formaldehyde, and death.
    By the time I’m done, Izzy’s life partner, Dom, has arrived at the office and Izzy is cleaned up and changed. Izzy looks understated in a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of black pants. In contrast, Dom, who is reed thin, fair-skinned, auburn haired, and not afraid to advertise his lifestyle, is dressed in a pair of skintight leather pants and a glossy shirt that looks like the lights on a disco ball. Dom’s flamboyance is a definite detriment to his and Izzy’s social life. While Izzy hasn’t ever tried to hide his sexual orientation, he is a government official and has a reputation and appearance to uphold. As a result, he and Dom rarely appear together within the town limits,