Death among the Roses: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Anna Drake

been so worried about you. Are you okay?"
    "Yeah. Turns out Gossford ultimately had to spring me. Boy, was he one disappointed dude."
    "That's a relief. I mean that you’re free, not that Gossford’s glum.”
    “Well, his sorrow pleases me no end, I’ll tell you. And what about lunch?” she reminded me.
    I checked my assignment sheet. “Just your luck. I’m available. But could you do me a favor?"
    "Maybe."
    "The murder story is coming out in today's edition. How about we meet at one rather than noon. I'd like to be around in case something comes up and extra hands are needed to square things around so the paper can be sent out."
    "Sure. I’ll have to reschedule one of my appointments. But she’s an agreeable old gal. One is fine. If not I’ll call you back."
    "What do you have a taste for?”
    “How about Howies?”
    I groaned internally. Another round of rich food. I'd need to hit the gym for sure this week, an activity that ranked right up there with my visiting a home for the criminally insane.
    "Howie's it is," I said.
    “See ya,” Ginger responded and rang off.
    After I'd disconnected, I sat at my desk, still anxious for this woman whom I often found full of such extreme contradictions.
     
    ***
     
    I needn't have worried about our meeting the paper's deadline. It came and went without so much as a frown from any of us. And after Dad had sent the edition off to the printers, I accessed our computer files and pulled up his murder story to read. I don’t mean to sound biased, here, but the piece was amazing.
    Dad had covered everything but with a great deal of style and class at the same time. The latest update on the murder investigation was there. As was the piece highlighting Gary’s early years. Dad had also put together a nice commentary on the community's grief over the loss of such a fine young man.
    After reading through the entire work, I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in my chair. I’d have never been able to write-up Gary's death with Dad’s combination of grit and compassion. I vowed one day, after order had been restored to our world, I would return to this piece and study it closely in hopes that I might absorb a bit of Dad’s skill with words.
    “What do you think?”
    I glanced up.
    Dad leaned against the door jamb. "Will it do?"
    "I have tears in my eyes."
    He frowned. "You don't think I was overly sentimental, do you?"
    "Dad, you've hit a winner."
    The phrase was his favorite comment when I’d done something that pleased him. He smiled.
     

 
     
     
EIGHT
     
    I discovered Ginger seated in a booth just a few steps inside the front door of Howies. Her face was drawn. Her mouth drooped. It looked as though someone had filled in the area beneath her eyes with charcoal.
    I slid into the booth opposite her. She offered me a weak smile. “So how was your morning?” she asked. “Have you come down from the high of writing up a murder?”
    How could I answer that question, I wondered. Finally I decided honesty would work best. I tossed up my hands. “Not guilty. Dad wrote up the murder. He claimed I was too close to the victim to do it.”
    “You’re kidding?”
    “Nope, truth be told, at first I felt cheated, but on second thought I don't believe I would have enjoyed working a story up on Gary’s murder. Dad was right. I knew the victim too well. Handling that assignment would have undone me.”
    "Huh." She shook her head. “I figured you’d be all over that piece.”
    I plastered a smile on my face. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But it was better handled this way. Dad did a stellar job. He brought the scope of our community’s loss home in a way I never could.”
    “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Still, I look forward to reading his story.”
    The waitress arrived at our table. She poured us each coffee. "What are you two having today?" she asked, gifting us with her megawatt smile.
    I’d forgotten that for some people this was just an ordinary