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

me as the kind of guy who’d live with his mother, which meant…I sighed.
    “Give me the address, Ali. I’ll take the dog to her. I’m sure Mrs. Harrison has enough to contend with already.” Her maggot of a husband heading the list.
    Jeez, I hoped the police had already called Keith’s wife because I really didn’t want to be the one to break the news to her. Well, at least she was getting her dog back.
    The address Ali gave me turned out to be a magnificent brownstone in Society Hill. There were no available parking spaces so I double-parked and left the engine running. Gathering Fluffy in my arms I marched up to the door and rang the bell.
    A woman who appeared to be in her late thirties answered the door, holding a lit cigarette in one hand and a cordless phone in the other. I quickly scanned her face. She didn’t look to be crying. Maybe she hadn’t heard the news yet. Oh great.
    “Mrs. Harrison?”
    “Yes?” she said, expectantly, looking down at her beloved pet.
    “I found your dog.”
    She gave me a peculiar look and spoke into the phone. “Nancy, I’ll call you back.” Mrs. Harrison disconnected and turned to me. “That’s not my dog.”
    “What? But your husband identified it. He said he saw my lost dog poster and he called me. Maybe it looks like your dog?”
    Mrs. Harrison chuckled without mirth. “Honey, we don’t have a dog. I’m allergic. My husband is a lying bag of shit.”
    “But why—”
    She cut me off, a weary smile playing about her mouth. “My guess is he was riding around town and saw you posting the signs. He probably thought you were cute and figured he’d use the dog angle to get to you.”
    “But why would anyone go to all that trouble? I’m not exactly Pamela Anderson.”
    “My husband can’t keep his dick in his pants,” she said, matter of factly. “He sees a pretty face—” She shrugged and drew on her cigarette. “It’s all about the challenge.”
    Son of a bitch.
    “I’m sure he didn’t mention the fact that he’s married. Don’t feel bad,” she added. “You’re not the only one who’s been duped by Keith. And you won’t be the last.”
    Actually, there was a good possibility that I would be.
    “Um, Mrs. Harrison—”
    “Connie.”
    “Connie, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I’ve—I’ve got some bad news about Keith.” Turns out she’d already heard.
    “He’ll be fine,” she said, echoing the words I’d told Ali. “His face will look like raw hamburger for awhile and he’ll have to get his perfect teeth fixed—that should put a little crimp in Romeo’s style.” This time we both laughed.
    I wanted to ask her a million more questions, like, did Keith have any enemies—I still wasn’t convinced a beating that thorough was the work of a mugger—and why an attractive, intelligent woman like herself would stay with a creep like Keith. But I spied the parking enforcement guy working his way down the street, so I thanked Connie for setting me straight and ran back to the car, the dog firmly secured in my arms.
    There were three messages on my machine when I got home. I put Fluffy down on the floor and he scampered off to find something inappropriate to eat while I pressed the play back button.
    “Hi sweetie, it’s your dad.”
    Oh my God. My dad never calls me. Something must have happened to my mother.
    “Nothing’s wrong,” he assured me. “I just wanted you to know that Paul told me you were having some financial difficulty—now don’t get all upset with your brother, I’m glad he told us. Anyway, your mother and I just wanted you to know that if you need something to tide you over, just say the word.”
    In the background, my mom’s version of whispering came through loud and clear.
    “Tell her not to let her pride get in the way. You know she always wants to do everything herself.”
    There was a muffled response from my dad before he spoke into the phone again.
    “Okay, doll. We love you. Talk to