His smile beamed warmth, and I wondered at the possibility of all that oozing charm being nothing more than a scam. He had to know the rumors going around about him being a bank robber. Dressed to kill, as always, I could see where the rumor of him having money might have footing. On the other hand, it wasn’t a crime to love good clothes. Or hats. Or shoes. Though it did cost a pretty penny. Ask me how I know. “Whoo-wee, you must rob a lot of banks to buy such nice clothes.” Problem with that great line was timing. My timing was way off, because I delivered it just as Thomas looked down to unlock his door. Drat. How could I analyze his expression if I couldn’t see his face? “Maybe you could give my husband Hardy some pointers.” Thomas lifted his head as he twisted the doorknob and opened the door. I x-rayed his face for hints of subterfuge or dishonesty, but only that beatific, peaceful smile remained. “Though I would love to speak with you, Mrs. Barnhart, I’m afraid I’m not feeling well.
What do You think about Polly Dent Loses Grip (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery)?
