Tom asked, "Is there anything else you can tell me that could be relevant to her death."
"Hell, everything I told you so far could be, although I doubt it is. Wait, I take that back. She got a phone call while we were at the bar. That's why she left. She said it was from, how did she phrase it? Oh yeah. One of her people who wanted a special session."
"You're sure she said 'people', not 'clients'?"
"Yep. It made me wonder if it was someone she worked with for the gym, or something else, but I didn't ask."
"Maybe you should have."
I nodded. "In hindsight, yeah, but I really wasn't expecting her to get murdered."
"No kidding," Ricky muttered. He'd been awfully quite so far—at least for him. Then he asked Tom, "What makes you think it wasn't just a random mugging gone wrong?"
"At this point, that's one option. I'm here because she was holding Walt's business card when she was killed. Holding it, not carrying it in her purse."
Ricky frowned. "Maybe someone's trying to frame him for the murder?"
"Possible. Or she saw someone in the lot…let's say the boy's father, and was going to call Walt to tell him."
"What if he's the one who called her at the bar?"
"Nope," I said before Tom could reply. "I'm sure if it had been him she'd have told me. After all, she wanted to hire me again. This time to look for him. I declined by the way."
"All right," Tom said. He glanced at his notepad before putting it back in his pocket. "I have no more questions right now, although"—he smiled slightly—"I'm sure I'll have more later on." He stood, thanked me for my time, and left.
"Whew," Ricky blew out a relieved sounding breath.
"Yeah, I feel the same way." I grinned at him. "You didn't decide to take things into your own hands and deal with, what did you call her? That predatory female?"
"That's not even funny," he muttered.
"I know. None of this is. Especially the fact that someone seemed to want make certain my name was brought into her murder. Because I don't for a second believe she just happened to be holding my card when she was attacked. Hell, if that was the case she'd have dropped it while trying to defend herself."
Ricky nodded. "And given what she did for a living, she would have defended herself, which Sharp said she didn't. She wasn't some weak, girly-type woman from what you've said."
"Not at all. Oh, she could pull out the tears when she thought it would work to her advantage, but yeah, she definitely wasn't a delicate flower of femininity."
"So now what happens?" he asked, staring at me. "Are you going to stay involved in spite of what Detective Sharp said?"
"Definitely. But not tonight. I have other things I need to do."
"Such as?" Ricky wanted to know, cocking one eyebrow.
"Working on relieving the tension we're both feeling," I replied. "I think a long run in the park…"
"Like. Hell!" My lover pointed to the stairs, saying "We're going up there. Now." as if he was already living here—which he would be as of tomorrow I suddenly realized—and half-boss of…well everything. Including me.
Not being one to offer debate at a time like this, I got up, pulled him to his feet and we retired to my bedroom for some 'tension relief' of the best kind.