Harlequin Intrigue, Box Set 2 of 2 by Julie Miller Page B

When his partner came back to the phone, Trent knew he’d been checking the facts in his notebook. “Since the manager didn’t seem to know much when we visited this morning, I stopped by on my way home and chatted up the after-work crowd. Several people recognized Matt Asher and Hillary Wells, but couldn’t remember if they’d ever seen them in a conversation with each other.”
    Trent figured with the discrepancy between their ages—Matt barely being twenty-two and the late Dr. Wells being a professional woman in her forties—that any conversation more intimate than a polite greeting between the two of them might stand out enough to make an impression on at least one of the other gym members. When he suggested the idea, Max concurred. “Asked and answered. No one I spoke to could recall either Matt Asher or Hillary Wells being in the same room together, much less sharing that they were looking for a way to have someone killed.”
    The sharp wind bit into Trent’s cheek when he turned to the front doors. He hunched his shoulders to stay warm. “So that’s not our connection between the two of them. Still, eliminating the gym doesn’t mean she didn’t have some other connection to Leland Asher.”
    â€œSo we keep digging.”
    Trent nodded. “I’ll ask Katie if she’s come up with anyplace else that can tie the two of them together.”
    â€œOr tie Dr. Wells directly to Asher.” Trent heard a soft voice in the background, then something that sounded suspiciously like lips smacking against each other. Max’s gruff tone softened. “Rosie says to tell you hi—”
    â€œHey, Rosie.”
    â€œâ€”and invite you over for dinner sometime before Christmas.”
    â€œI accept. Will you be there, too?”
    â€œWiseass.” Trent grinned at the reprimand he heard in the background. “Um, the missus says I need to mind my manners. Maybe Friday before we all go see the little man in his play?”
    â€œSounds like a plan.”
    â€œGive me a call sometime to let me know if anybody else tries to bother Katie. She’s part of the team, too. I don’t like the idea of anybody messin’ with one of us.”
    â€œThat’s why I’m here. If nothing else, I’m going to make sure she and Tyler aren’t the last ones here and walking by themselves to their car again.” Trent held open one of the glass front doors for a pair of chattering, bundled-up coeds who must have been leaving an evening meeting or practice in one of the fine arts classrooms. He barely saw their bold smiles and flirty eye contact. He silently bemoaned the idea that their interest in him sparked amusement rather than any fraction of the pull that a few ponytail hairs clinging to his shirt had that morning. “Ladies,” he acknowledged to some silly giggles before they hurried past him and he signed off on his call to Max. “I’ll keep you posted.”
    As soon as he stepped into the lobby out of the wind, Trent pulled off his cap and stuffed it into a coat pocket along with his phone. He removed his gloves and unzipped his coat before heading across the worn marble floor to the auditorium’s dark red doors.
    He stooped a little to peer through the cloudy glass window near the top of the door and saw a hazy tableau of the Cratchit family lifting their pewter mugs in a toast. He smiled when he spotted the little boy with the old-fashioned crutch tucked beneath his arm. Tyler’s smudged face was easily the most animated of all the children onstage as he said his lines. There was a lot to admire about Katie’s son. Trent didn’t remember having that much confidence at that age, except maybe playing sports—but certainly not speaking in front of an audience. “Way to go, Tyler.”
    Trent shifted his gaze to the sloping rows of seats in the shadows between the lobby and the brightly lit