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follow up this report at some point in the future, you can call the paper HQ and set up an appointment at any time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that,” She said.

“Is there anything else to say about this line of work or your studies here?”

“I have three partners, you know,” She began.  “We’ve all gone to different places around the US to study the groundwater and such.  One of them is up in Maine, and we have two locations in the Rockies, too.  Perhaps I could have one of them call you about this?”

“I would, but unfortunately we try to stick to local stories in our paper.”

“Oh, okay,” She replied, looking nervously around the room.  “I’m sorry, but I have somewhere I need to be.  I’ll be watching the paper for the article.  Would it be this week?”

“Check the local businesses on Saturday morning for a copy,” I told her just before she rushed out of the diner.  I sighed when I realized that the paper would be paying for a half-finished cup of coffee and untouched hot chocolate, along with a turkey wrap that had been left uneaten.

 

I regrettably did not have time to change my clothing before meeting with Benji that night.  I looked far too dressy in my black slacks and royal blue blouse, and especially in heels.  But I spent too long with Eliza, and before that I couldn’t let the turkey wrap and hot chocolate go to waste. 

Upon answering the door, Benji greeted me with, “I thought I told you not to dress up.”

“I didn’t have time to change after my interview this afternoon,” I justified my appearance.  “My apologies; I never would have done this otherwise.”

“Glad to know you wouldn’t waste time on looking good on my account.”

“Are you saying I don’t look good when I don’t try to?”

“Not at all.  In fact, you looked rather astonishing in that bathrobe this morning.” He smirked, and I felt blood rushing to my face.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t shown up unannounced, I would have gotten dressed,” I replied, pulling my hair back with the band I always kept around my wrist.

“What are you doing that for?” He questioned.

“Doing what?” I turned my head to look around his house.  I’d never been inside before.

“Putting up your hair,” He told me, using a tone that was telling me it should have been obvious.  “It looked nice.”

“It gets in my way,” I stated simply.  Then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.  A basket of apples placed on a shelf.  “I see Agatha dropped by?”

“Yes, though I’ve never cared much for apples.  Take one, if you’d like,” He motioned toward the basket.

“I can’t,” I sighed.  The apples looked nearly perfect.  “I’m allergic.”

He looked a bit startled.  “Are you really?”

“Yes, quite unfortunately.”

“That’s a real shame,” He said.  “I make a fantastic apple pie.”

“I thought you said you don’t like apples,” I grinned slightly.

“It’s different when they’re baked and smothered in cinnamon and sugar,” He returned the grin.

“I suppose that’s true.”

The rest of the night was fairly uneventful and rather boring.  Benji was nice company, and an excellent chef.  I made sure to tell him so, and we made plans to get coffee that upcoming weekend.  I also took note that he was careful to make eye contact, and his eyes stayed on me while he was talking or listening to me.  Perhaps he is somewhat interested.

“I think I should probably get going,” I did eventually say.  I hadn’t been keeping an eye on the time, and when I finally did, it was much later than what I would’ve liked.

“That’s a shame, I’m enjoying your company, Kenzie,” He smiled a bit.

“My apologies.  I will see you on Saturday for coffee, though,” I rubbed my right eye.

“I can see you’re tired.  Go home and get some beauty sleep,” Benji rose from his chair, and I mimicked.

He led me to the door, not saying a word until he opened the door.  He simply whispered, “I will see you Saturday.”

I went home, put on sweatpants and a tank top, and immediately fell asleep. 

At exactly 2:13 a.m., I received a phone call from Eliza Browne, announcing that her husband had been found dead.

Imprint

Publication Date: 06-24-2013

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To my dear father, who gave me the idea in the first place

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