“Now I’m a suspect!” were the first words out of Garth’s mouth. “What?” said Gabby, whirling about, looking suddenly stricken. “Are you serious?” Doggone, thought Carmela. Why hadn’t Babcock shared this with her last night when he was sharing her bed? She let that notion rumble through her brain for a few seconds. Probably, she decided, because if he’d told her that he was looking hard at Garth, he wouldn’t have gotten an ounce of shut-eye. Or any monkey bread, either. Gabby led Garth to the back table, then sat down beside him in a commiserating gesture. She was a frequent customer at Fire and Ice and pretty much thought the world of Garth. Especially since he’d helped persuade her husband to buy a glamour-girl three-carat marquise-cut diamond ring for her last anniversary. After their coffee maker finally oozed forth a single cup, Carmela carried a red ceramic mug to the table and slid it toward Garth. “Okay,” she said. “What’s up? Why have the police suddenly turned their beady little eyes on you?”
