"No, I'm not going to answer questions," I said.
"Do the police have any leads? Any suspects?"
"No."
"Are you a suspect yourself, Ryan?"
Disturbing thought.
"No," I said, exasperated.
"Marilyn—"
"Would you mind having dinner with me Saturday night?"
"No! I—" I blinked at her.
"What?"
She smiled at me, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek. Her lips, that I'd admired so much, felt very, very nice.
"Super," she said.
"I'll pick you up at your place. Say around nine?"
"Did I just miss something?" I asked her.
She nodded, dark eyes sparkling with humor.
"I'm going to take you to a fantastic dinner. Have you ever eaten at the Pump Room? At the Ambassador East?"
I shook my head.
"Steaks you wouldn't believe," she assured me.
"And the most romantic atmosphere. Jackets and ties required. Can you manage?"
"Um. Yes?" I said, carefully.
