Page 62 of My Killer Blind Date

Situation saved – I hope.

And even though at this very moment I’m really hoping Liam is innocent, if it does come back as human, we can pretty much call a wrap on this entire investigation. Liam has proved himself to be very good with words – he knows how to coax, evade and sweet talk the hell out of me. It worked. I have a crush on him. But however silver-tongued he may be, there’s no talking your way out of human remains in your freezer.

Chapter Twenty-one

Wednesday, George messages me at the crack of dawn with a million party emojis all strung together. R u ready to party your ass off on Friday!?!?!?!?!? TWO DAYS TO GO!!!

Once the ding of her texts has woken me up, there’ll be no getting back to sleep – and I have to leave for work in an hour anyway. Might as well rise and freaking shine.

I call George as I heat up my water for instant coffee. The nearly empty coffee container glares at me, reminding me that I’m nearly out of the essentials. As if yesterday’s epiphanies about failure and risk weren’t enough, another one lands on my head like a cartoon anvil.

I’ve been putting off all pleasures for far too long. Operating under the mantra of, No rest until Zoe’s case is solved. No fun, no sleep, no romance and no new dreams.

Damn, my inner psychologist is popping at six in the morning.

Well, I’m taking some steps in the dreams and romance area. At some point, I guess sleep and groceries should follow. Maybe I could even take a bold step up from instant coffee to the real deal? Especially considering I want to run a freaking coffee shop, hello?

Thankfully, George picks up my call after a few rings, shutting up the Early Morning Shrink.

‘Did I already tell you how obsessed I am with Colby?’ she gushes the second we connect, sounding like she’s been awake for hours, which – she probably has.

‘Yes, you already sang her praises,’ I laugh.

‘I owe you, girl.’

‘Um – no. You really don’t—’

‘Yes. I do. You’ve been shouldering so much, and you went and saved my party? But you’ll never guess what – I have a surprise for you too!’

I literally bend in half to lean my forehead on the counter. ‘Not another blind date.’

She laughs. ‘Of course not! You have Liam now! But I’m not telling you anything. You can’t pry it out of me! You’ll just have to see at the party.’

‘I’m allergic to dogs, cats, horses and ducks.’ I’m not. But just in case.

‘No animals.’

‘You’re really making me nervous. I don’t do well with surprises.’

‘You’ll do well with this one. Oh! And how is Liam? You never did get back to me about, you know …’ I can practically hear her eyebrows doing the tango.

If she says dick length I’m going to spew my coffee, so I jump in quickly. ‘It’s good! We ended up at a salsa bar Monday night. He’s a great dancer.’

Do I feel a massive twinge of guilt at this deception? Yes. But I remind myself that I’m not lying to her forever about what’s really been going on with Liam – I’m just being strategic and saving the iffier news for after the wedding. After she and Arjun get back from their three-week tour-of-Europe honeymoon, I’ll schedule a brunch with her, somewhere with great Bloody Marys to soften her, and then I’ll fess up. Maybe between all her stories about Italy and Switzerland and Germany, she’ll barely notice my teensy contribution about how I wasn’t so much dating Liam as investigating him for being a serial killer. Anyway, maybe by then, Liam will be proved innocent, and we can all have a good laugh about my weird obsessions.

‘Remind me, what time does the party start?’ I ask.

‘Seven o’clock. Open bar, DJ, also Richard Gere might stop by?’

I put George on speaker as I prepare my oatmeal. While she’s telling me about their honeymoon itinerary through the Alps, once my oatmeal is in the microwave, I pop open my email. Mostly spam, as usual, which I delete quickly. As George tells me about their dreamy travel agent and some hard-to-get restaurant reservation that was ‘bucket list’ for Arjun, I see the one non-spam email. Holy shit. It’s from the Coroner’s Office. And there’s an attachment. It’s my expedited meat testing results! Fuck. Am I ready? I have to be ready. I click on the attachment.

I stop breathing. My heart stops beating. I’m not registering anything George is saying as it loads. My eyes scan, searching for the only thing that matters—

Beef.

I’m breathing. My heart stutters back to life.

Beef. Meat from a cow.