Page 3 of Sweet Like a Psycho (Secrets of Suburbi 2)

“Four months isn’t that long,” I said instead of giving in. I was too tired to have this conversation with him right now.

“Um…yes. Yes, it is. As soon as we get the all clear from the goddess, we’re going out.”

I wasn’t sure whether to focus on the fact that he had just called our captain the goddess or the fact that I was 100 percent not going to a bar with him tonight. If I was in denial about my lack of a sex life, he was certainly in denial of his chances with the boss. But before I could respond, his phone bleeped in this hand.

“Speak of the sexy devil. I’ll put on my charm and plead our case to get out early. Don’t see any reason for us to be here when the officers clearly have it covered. You know she can’t resist me. Torres speaking,” he said as he opened the door and stepped out into the cool night. He slammed the door, leaving me alone in the car.

I let go of the wheel and sighed. Damien was right. I needed to move on. But this town didn’t exactly have a high population of bachelorettes. It was filled with suburban housewives like the women who resided in this neighborhood. I stared out the window at the fire. Two covered gurneys were being ushered away from the flames. Shit.

I was hoping for an easy case. That was impossible now. It would be elevated to a homicide investigation. I was about to open up the door to get filled in by the local cops when the printer beside me whirred to life.

I lifted up the first page. It was a file about Benjamin Harlow. I scanned the page. Not a civilian. He was a detective like me. There were only three reasons his file would be coming out of the printer. Either he was a suspect, he was dead, or he was injured. Detectives didn't tend to do much arson, and based on those gurneys and half of the house literally being blown to bits, I was worried that he wasn't just injured.

Suddenly I wasn't tired anymore. Not only had this arsonist blown up a house, but they'd possibly killed a detective. That meant this case was a top priority. Which meant solving it would help get the captain off my back about my recent uh...less than stellar job performance.

I grabbed the paper and stepped out into the cool night.

Damien was still talking on the phone. I ducked under the caution tape and flashed my badge at the nearest cop. “Any idea what happened here?”

“Arsonist. Took out two of our own.” He shook his head.

Two? Damn. I'd go from narrowly avoiding suspension to being the hero of the department if I solved this one. “You sure it was arson?” I thought he might have a few guesses, but he seemed pretty sure.

“Don’t you smell that, detective?”

I took a deep breath. Despite the smell of smoke, there was one more pungent scent in the air. “Kerosene?”

“The house was doused in it. A trip-wire was attached to the front door. We didn’t stand a chance.”

I wasn’t expecting him to say that. I thought they had arrived on the scene after the explosion. “Cops were here before the explosion?”

“Yeah, we were called in as backup to an ongoing investigation.”

“What ongoing investigation?”

The cop laughed. "It's above my pay grade. Guess it's above yours too.” He turned his head. “Ma’am, you have to stay on the other side of the tape.”

There was an older woman in a housecoat wrestling with the yellow caution tape. She ignored his request. He put his hand on his gun and started to walk towards her, but I put my arm out to stop him.

"I got this," I said.

He laughed again. "You don't have the case file and now you're helping with crowd control? No wonder more cases don't get solved around here."

I ignored him. Damien would fill me in on all the details when he was done flirting with the captain, but for now, I figured I might get some valuable intel from the neighborhood gossip. Or I'd end up driving an Alzheimer's patient back to their house. It could go either way.

"Ma'am, you really can't come any closer. This is an active crime scene. And that house could blow again any second."

The woman proceeded to stomp on the tape dividing us. “But I know who did it. I knew that woman wasn’t quite right in the head. I knew it. I told everyone so. I have a great eye for this sorta thing.”

"I want to hear all about her, but first we need to move to a safer location." I guided her over to my car.

“I think her husband was beating her. She must have finally snapped and blown the place up.”

“What woman blew the place up?” I asked.

“The one who lived here.”

Lived. In the past tense. It would be fitting if the woman responsible was killed in her own death trap. “What did you say your name was?” I asked.

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