No Such Thing As a Good Blind Date: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) by Shelly Fredman

I didn’t argue the point.
    “I think I’ll be okay, John, but thanks for offering.”
    Before I left to meet Keith I tried calling Toodie’s cell phone again. No answer. Dammit, Toodie, pick up the phone. Not that I had anything to report. There hadn’t been anything about the murder in the paper or on the news in the last couple of days, and since Bobby and I didn’t seem to be on speaking terms, I was at a loss for information.
    I pulled Fluffy out from under the bed, where he was happily chewing on a tube of toothpaste and I wiped the gel from his mouth. He looked like he’d contracted rabies, but his breath was minty fresh.
    The wind had picked up down by the wharf, causing the temperature to drop about fifteen degrees. I rooted around in the downstairs closet and found a ratty old afghan that my mother had crocheted back in college. It was orange and brown, with a bright yellow sunburst zigzagging across the center. It looked like a prop from the musical “Hair.” I wrapped Fluffy up in it and set off to meet Keith.
    He was standing on the sidewalk, wearing a black Burberry overcoat and gray slacks. At least I hoped it was him. Age-wise we looked to be in the same decade, which was a real plus, after Barry. As I got closer, I noticed he was very cute, in a collegiate, WASPY sort of way, with a boyish charm, which I’m sure, served him well with women jurors.
    “Brandy?” Keith smiled, extending his hand in greeting. Okay, when he got a look at me, he didn’t run away screaming. So far so good. Fluffy was in my arms, stuffed inside the afghan. He poked his furry head out and sniffed the air. “Well, there you are,” Keith said, making no move to take him. “How about we walk over to my office so I can leave him with my receptionist. He hasn’t uh, gone to the bathroom lately, has he?” I shook my head.
    “No, sorry.”
    Keith’s office was in one of the new buildings on Dock Street that were built to look old and picturesque; an ivy covered red brick structure overlooking the water. It had to cost a fortune to rent space there. We took the elevator up three flights and walked down a plush hallway until we reached the last door, on which was painted “Keith Harrison Attorney at Law” in gold block letters. A young woman was seated at the front desk. She seemed to be the only one who worked there.
    “Hi, Mr. Harrison,” she said, looking up as we entered. Keith flashed her a toothy smile and she blushed the color of rutabaga.
    “Do me a favor, Ali, put the dog in my office and close the door. I’ll be back after lunch.”
    “Oh, how adorable,” Ali gushed, taking Fluffy out of my arms. I felt like she’d ripped a piece of my heart out along with the dog.
    “Ready to go?”
    If I marry Keith, I’ll be able to keep Fluffy.
    “What? Oh, yeah.”
    I spotted her as we walked from the bar to our table. She was wearing a fur coat. Can you believe that bitch? I tried to duck behind Keith, but he was having a bathroom emergency—too many Pelligrinos—and made a beeline for the little boys’ room, leaving me to contend with my high school nemesis and all-around pain in the ass, Mindy Rebowitz. “Bran-dee,” she screeched. “What are you doing here?”
    “Uh, eating?” I ventured. Sorry, God. I know I gave up sarcasm for Lent, but she just begs for it.
    Mindy glanced down at Keith’s empty seat. “All by yourself? Poor Brandy. Why don’t you join Terrence and me? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Terrence is Mindy’s hapless better half.
    “Actually, I’m not alone. My date will be back any minute now. But thanks for asking,” I added politely. “Oh, and please don’t feel like you have to keep me company. I’m sure Terrence is missing you already.”
    Mindy’s bottle blond head bobbed in agreement, but she angled herself into the empty chair, anyway. The waiter came by and plunked down a basket of assorted breads. I reached for the panini, but Mindy got there first and began chowing