“So you’re claiming research, are you?”
“Everything is research. Including flirting. The good news is that you were right. This experience has not only resurrected my creativity but also inspired a whole new story.”
Theresa scooted closer. “Would that be a romance published under your own name or a crime novel published by our mutual friend?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Mm-hmm. And should I expect the hero’s initials to be A. H.?”
“Maybe.” Lydia covered her face with the rag and smiled.
She could have a lot of fun with a hero like Officer Hall. First impressions weren’t something to base a real romance on, but fiction only needed a spark, and, good gracious, did Officer Hall set off sparks. With a little encouragement, she could flame a whole series to life. She was unsure if Officer Hall’s response to her flirting was discouragement, but she’d liked it all the same. Victims and perpetrators. It was such a police-like thing to say. Her publisher had asked E. A. Dupin—the pseudonym she used for her crime novels—to write more books a year. Perhaps she could start a new detective series in addition to her Billy Poe novels, one with a romantic interest who shared her name. She giggled. It wasn’t like anyone but her closest friends knewshewas E. A. Dupin. The hero could be named Detective Abe Darcy as a private joke.
“What have we here?” The unfamiliar male voice interrupted her musings.
Lydia tamped down a growl of frustration before it escaped. She much preferred imaginary characters to real people. Especially the nosy kind.
“The most interesting cases always come in during the night. Tell me, ladies”—the wordladieshinted at sarcasm—“what brings you here tonight in such attire?”
Lydia yanked the rag off her face.
Surprise lifted the brows of the man in front of her before they settled into curiosity.
The lack of uniform made it obvious he wasn’t an officer, but she’d seen him around Papa’s office enough to recognize his thin, determined face. A reporter. If she recalled correctly, one who behaved like he had something to prove. Ambition could be a great quality in a man, but not when it risked her identity.
Theresa stiffened in her seat next to Lydia, no doubt ready to launch into a defense that painted the circus as evil and them valiant.
Lydia clapped a hand over Theresa’s mouth. “I don’t believe that is your business, Mr.—”
“Eugene Clemens, from theCincinnati Commercial. It’s my job to report arrests for the sake of public awareness, so your storyismy business. Unless you are the victims of a crime.”
She knew better than to take the bait, but responding posed a challenge. Silence indicated guilt. Speaking up risked revealing too much.
“Your story’s in cell two, Clemens.” Officer Hall appeared with crossed arms.
Mr. Clemens glanced between them, and a smile edged its way up. “I assume you’re referring to that aerialist you arrested for burglary. I’ve got what I need there, but I think the story sitting here will be of far more interest to my readers.”
“Shouldn’t you be heading to that murder scene just telephoned in?”
“Nice try, Hall, but I know a distraction tactic when I see one.”
A pair of officers collected jackets, lanterns, and truncheons from the closet and rushed out the foyer door.
The confidence on Mr. Clemens’s face faltered.
“Gilbert Avenue and Morris Street. Body’s in the woods.” Officer Hall nodded toward the door.
Mr. Clemens frowned and visually vacillated between his two options. Stay for a potential story or go after a certain one? His decision became apparent when he took off at a run.
“Did you really just give him the address of a murder scene?” Didn’t that break some sort of investigation rule?
“No. If he isn’t smart enough to tail the officers, he’ll find himself at Eden Park on the opposite side of town.” A mischievous grin appeared.
Gracious, that man’s smile could make a heart stutter. Where was her fan when she needed it? Detective Darcy definitely needed his own story, and soon.
His heat-inducing smile died. “You didn’t give him your names, did you?”
“Of course not.”
