Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 01 - The Day Job is Murder by Carolyn Arnold Page A

took care of himself, opting to drink only one mug of coffee a day, giving preference to a glass of orange juice over the popular caffeinated stimulant. His face was always shaven, his brown eyes clear and intelligent, and he exuded charm.
    Sara’s eyes went back to the woman and she smiled politely, while swallowing the inclination to glare at her instead. She cleared her throat.
    “See, it’s all that coffee you drink. It’s not helping your immune system,” Sean said.
    She knew he was referring to her cough. “Uh-huh.”
    “Detectives?”
    Colin Burton approached. He was a stocky man who basically waddled in, rather than walked. His deeply-set pale brown eyes focused on them.
    They had spoken to him before, briefly, at his house, but hadn’t taken him in for further questioning at the time. However, as they reviewed the case and discovered that the high cable bills nearly resulted in a bankruptcy claim, their interest in Burton increased.
    Sean put his hand on Burton’s shoulder. “We’re going to need to take you downtown for some questioning.”
    “Am I under arrest?” He shrugged free of Sean’s grip.
    “You aren’t yet, but we’d appreciate your cooperation.”
    The receptionist watched, with large eyes and a gaping mouth, as Sean lead Burton out the door.
    She leaned over the counter and asked Sara, “He single?”
    “Married.”
    “Oh, even better. Give him my number.” The woman quickly scribbled on a sticky note and passed it to Sara.
    Sara smiled, but she had crumpled the paper into a tight ball in the palm of her hand by the time she got into the car.
    “Watch your head.” Sean guided Burton into the back seat.
    “You haven’t cuffed me. That means I’m not under arrest.”
    “If you’d like the full experience, I could put them on you.”
    Sara glanced over her shoulder to see Burton’s face pale.
    “Like I thought,” Sean said and then made his way to the driver’s seat, where he clicked up his belt, and turned the ignition.
    “See, you could have any woman. She was interested.” Sara pointed to the building.
    “Sara, let it go. I don’t need a matchmaking service.” He paused to smile.
    He must have sensed she was uncomfortable. Her fist clenched around the note. It would have a home in the first garbage can she came across.
    He continued, “I’ve already made my stand cl—”
    Burton vomited.
    “Lovely. I’m not sure which is worse—the sound or the—oh, it’s definitely the smell.” Sean covered his mouth and lowered his foot on the gas.

     
    Sara was bent over, inside the back of the department-issued sedan. “I can’t believe we’re still cleaning puke.”
    “Some days are better than others.”
    She smiled. “Leave it to you to always look at the bright side.”
    “We’ve just exchanged drunks for nervous murder suspects.”
    She laughed. He loved the way her eyes creased, and the way her nose wrinkled with the expression.
    “Well, I consider that progress.”
    “Easy to say when you’re not the one doing the cleaning.” She tossed the used towels in the garbage, returned the cleaner to the shelf, then picked up her coffee cup, taking a draw.
    “You insisted. We could have gotten a uniformed officer to take care of it.”
    “I know, but I don’t like to do that.”
    “Yes, I know. Our car, our responsibility. You’re too good to be real, you know that?”
    “There you go again.”
    He shrugged and kept pace with her on the way to the interview room. Outside, she placed a hand on his forearm.
    “Oh, I meant to tell you something.” She glanced in at Burton, and then back to Sean. “It’s probably poor timing now, but you still have time.”
    She peered into his eyes and seemed to be studying them, assessing something. What, he wasn’t sure. So, while she probed his eyes, he appreciated the color of hers—brown with flecks of green and gold.
    “I was reading the obits this morning and I came across the name Douglas Quinn. You knew him,