Over and above being tangentially connected to her nasty death, I had a personal situation on my hands, no doubt about it. What had happened-and what was going to happen-between me and Martin Bartell?

I should call Amina, my best friend. Though she lived in Houston now, it would be worth the long-distance daytime call. I peered at the calendar across the room by the telephone in the kitchen area. Today was Thursday. The wedding had been five weeks ago… Yes, they should have gotten back from the cruise and the resort at least two weeks ago, and Amina wouldn’t go back to work until Monday.

But if I called Amina, that would be validating my feeling.

So what was this feeling? Love at first sight? This didn’t seem to be centered around my heart, but somewhere considerably lower.

And amazingly, he felt it, too.

That was what was so shocking-that it was mutual. After a lifetime of considering and dissecting, I was seriously in danger of being swept away by something I couldn’t control.

Oh-sure I could! I slapped myself lightly on one cheek. All I had to do was never see Martin Bartell again.

That would be the honorable thing. I was dating Aubrey Scott, a fine man and a handsome one, and I should count myself lucky.

Which introduced a drearily familiar train of thought.

Where was my relationship with Aubrey going? We’d been dating for several months now, and I was sure his congregation (including my mother and her husband) expected great things. Of course, someone had told Aubrey about my involvement in the Real Murders deaths-due to my membership in a club devoted to discussing old murder cases, my half-brother Phillip and I had almost gotten killed-and we’d talked about it a little. But on the whole, other people seemed to consider our relationship suitable and unsurprising.