Dinner And A Murder: The 3rd Nikki Hunter Mystery (Nikki Hunter Mysteries) by Nancy Skopin

remained lying down. I spent about ten minutes petting the sweet boy and wishing there was something I could do. I walked the short distance to my boat and took a grief-induced nap.

Chapter 12

    A t 4:00 p.m. I forced myself up off the queen-size bunk, stripped off my clothes, and stepped into the shower.
    After blow-drying and scrunching my curls, I dressed in black jeans and a black silk blouse. I tucked my Ruger into the holster at the small of my back and put on my camel hair blazer. I checked my image in the mirror to make sure the silhouette of the gun wasn’t visible.
    I was hungry, but I knew if I ate anything now I’d be sorry later when I was trying to choke down my second entrée of the evening, so I pocketed half a dozen dog biscuits and headed out. D’Artagnon was no longer on the deck of Kirk’s yacht. I knocked on the window and waited, but there was no answer. By the time I reached the office I’d made up my mind that first thing Thursday morning I would adopt Buddy.
    I brewed a pot of coffee and was sipping the first cup when the phone rang.
    “Hunter Investigations,” I answered. There was cell phone static on the line.
    “Nikki, it’s Kirk. I came home for a late lunch today and D’Artagnon couldn’t stand up, so I carried him to the truck and took him to this guy Lily told me about. His name is Bob Culver and he’s a chiropractor. I didn’t have an appointment, but he managed to squeeze us in. He adjusted D’Artagnon’s spine and then he asked me about his diet. He told me to cut out corn, wheat, red meat, sugar, and anything in the nightshade family, like potatoes. I carried D’Artagnon into his office but he walked out on his own. We have to go back a couple times a week, but I think he’s going to be okay. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
    “That’s incredible,” I said, fighting back tears of relief. “I’m so glad you called.”
    I typed up some of the surveys I’d done recently and was just completing the invoices when Bill walked in the door at 6:10.
    “Do we really have to go to Lyons?” he asked.
    “Yes. I’m doing it for Sam because he’s helping me with Paul’s case.”
    We took Bill’s Mustang and hit the freeway.
    On the way to San Leandro he reached for my hand and said, “Nikki, I’ve been thinking.”
    “That can’t be good,” I said, turning to him with a smile.
    “Why don’t we try living together? See where this takes us. My house has lots of room, and we could still spend some weekends on the boat. Or, if that doesn’t appeal to you, maybe I could rent out the house and move aboard with you. We’d have more time together that way.”
    The smile dropped from my face and I felt a knot form in my solar plexus. “Whoa,” I said, snatching my hand away. “Bill, we’ve only known each other for three months. I really enjoy spending time with you, but don’t you think this is rushing things a bit? I don’t want to live on land, and if you moved in with me where would you keep your guitars? Plus I only have one hanging locker. Where would we put all your clothes?” While my lips were offering logical arguments against cohabiting on my boat, my lizard brain was screaming, Oh, hell no!
    I was touched that Bill was willing to sacrifice his comfort in order to have more time with me, but I was not looking for this level of commitment. I preferred living alone. I needed my privacy and independence, and I treasured the freedom it gave me.
    “I do like having all that space,” Bill said, “but I think I love you, Nikki.” He said it quietly, almost a whisper, then he reached over and gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
    Oh crap . There it was. The dreaded L word. Were we already moving into that stage of our relationship? I had suspected it was coming eventually, and it made my stomach ache. After my last marriage failed I’d given up on the ‘happily ever after’ fantasy. Bill had slowly begun changing my mind about that, but this was too much too