A Body to die for

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Authors: Valerie Frankel
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He was practically panting. Alex was primarily a domestic animal. Housewares turned him on. We’d had some fun, actually, with his honey spool.
    “Do all wizard chefs do things like special order bread knives from Sweden?” I asked.
    “They do if they’re serious about slicing bread,” he responded.
    “And if I said that you can seriously slice bread with a two-dollar knife from the neighborhood hardware store, you’d probably tell me I just don’t understand.”
    “Why even have these conversations, Wanda?” he asked.
    “Maybe the killer special ordered the knife for the sole purpose of slicing Barney.”
    “The killer would have been better off with a two-dollar blade from the hardware store.”
    “Unless the killer stole it from someone,” I suggested.
    “A frame?” he asked.
    “No, a knife.”
    The phone rang. I cradled the receiver on my shoulder and said, “Do It Right Detectives. If you’ve got the dime, we’ve got the ear.” Alex took the opportunity to polish the answering machine.
    It was Jack. “Wanda—I’ve been arrested. You’ve got to help me.”
    I stood up. Not sure why, I sat back down. “Take it easy, Jack. Where are you?”
    “In prison.In Brooklyn Heights.”
    There was no prison in Brooklyn Heights. A holding tank or two, sure. But if you want prison, you’ll have to venture to other boroughs. Queens, for example, had Rikers Island. Manhattan had the floating prison barge on the East River. “Did they take you to the courts?” I asked. The court building for all of Brooklyn was at Town Hall right on Cadman Plaza in the Heights. It was in those courtrooms that John Gotti was sentenced to life.
    “Yes, yes, you’ve got to get over here,” Jack cried. “And bring the money.”
    I hung up. Alex had a questioning look in his eye. I said, “Our client has been arrested for murder and he wants me to bring his money back.”
    “Does he know we don’t give refunds?” Alex asked, as aghast as I,
    “I guess not.” I bit a pencil. I usually think better with things in my mouth. “Alex, as a man who cheats regularly on his girlfriends, do you ever have any feelings of remorse?”
    Alex said, “I’d rather talk about the money.”
    “Spare me a quarter.”
    “I never cheated on you.”
    I scoífed. “I know for a fact that you cheated on me at least once.”
    “Is that a Wanda fact, or an actual fact?” he asked. “No, let me answer. It’s a Wanda fact which means true as long as you think it’s true. My dearest heart, not once did my jade stalk enter the gates of another lucky locust during the entire year we lived together. And if you think that Max is cheating on you, you’re even more insecure than I thought.”
    “If Max was cheating, I’ll have to kill him,” I said. “And you’ll have to help me as a penance for screwing around on me all those times while we were going out.”
    Alex sighed deeply. I wondered if he’d sprung a leak. “Call the club,” he instructed when he’d tired of my little game. “See if they’re open today.”
    I dialed the number for the Western Athletic Club. I don’t think it was Janey who confirmed the fact that they were indeed open. I supposed the upstairs suite was blocked off, but otherwise, why shouldn’t the club be open for business? I asked if the Cut Me store was also open, and I was informed that it was, despite the fact that its owner had been stabbed to death the night before. Heartless, but convenient for us. Alex would need workout gear.
    “I’ll spring our client if possible,” I said. “And you’d better get yourself some decent exercise clothes.” Alex’s jeans and faded T-shirt didn’t quite measure up to the high-style elastic-wear I’d noticed people strutting around in at the club yesterday.
    Alex sighed again. “I’ll stop by my apartment and get some running shorts, or won’t that do?”
    I wanted company on the subway ride. “That won’t do. We’ll go shopping in Brooklyn Heights.

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