kielbasa case to watch with horrified expressions. I could practically hear them thinking that here was incontrovertible proof that the neighborhood had gone completely to pot.
"Oh, hell," I muttered, and stepped around the end cap with a bright smile. "Sher! I've been looking for you. I"
The man whipped around to size me up with a death glare. It didn't take him too long to decide I wasn't a threat. Or a hooker. Fortunately, I'd worn a pair of shorts I'd cut from old sweatpants, my dingy Keds, and a moth-eaten sweatshirt to ward off the store's chill. Looks-wise, I was as far removed from Sherri as Pam Anderson was from Janet Reno. "Do you know this woman?" he demanded.
"She's my sister."
Sherri seemed to have shriveled inside her leather casing. "We're just here to meet single men. Tell him, Jamie."
"Well, that's not exactly true." I approached in baby steps in case he had a gun to go with those handcuffs. "I'm not looking for a man. I'm just here for some cake mix." I held up the basket as proof. No reaction. Guess he didn't like cake. "But my sister here, she was looking for a date"
"I got that much," he said. "You can meet her downtown. Come on, ma'am."
"I'm not a ma'am," Sherri protested, struggling against the cuffs. "I'm a Ms. Or Miss."
"She wants to be a Mrs.," I said helpfully. He was decent looking enough, if you overlooked the hostility of the handcuffs.
"That's true," Sherri said, brightening. "Would you happen to be married, Mr.…?"
"Detective. And it's none of your business." He glanced into her cart. "You don't seem to be shopping for much in the way of food, ma'am."
"Hey, I tried to find the squash," Sherri said. "Bigger is better, right? A cucumber was the best I could do."
Behind us, I heard the old woman gasp, and then I heard a thump that I hoped wasn't her hitting the floor in a dead faint.
"She's not much of a shopper," I said. "Can't you see this is all just a misunderstanding?"
"I think I understand," the detective said, and I smiled. Finally. "Your sister made a pretty lewd offer concerning that cucumber," he said, and my smile disappeared. I heard the faint squeak of shopping cart wheels as the old man edged a little closer. This was good stuff to the Lawrence Welk set.
"Oh, come on." Sherri stuck out her lower lip. "All I said was you should see what I can do with a cucumber that big."
I rolled my eyes. The squeaking stopped, and I heard another thump and a low curse. The old man had plowed right into a display of packaged pepperoni. Served him right for being lascivious.
"Exactly," the detective said. "You think I don't know what that means?"
"It means a big salad," Sherri said. "Lettuce. Carrots. Cucumber. A salad."
"It means solicitation." The cop snatched the cucumber in question from her. "By the way, this is evidence."
"Look," Sherri said, "don't you think you're taking this too far? I mean, I can't help it if you're insecure about your manhood."
The thing about Sherri was she never knew when to quit.
"Let's go." He gave her shopping cart a shove with his foot. "You can explain it all to the judge in the morning."
"Maybe the judge will be reasonable," Sherri said pointedly. "Only you have to tell me now what time I need to be there, because I'll have to set my alarm. I can't wake up early without an alarm."
The detective looked at me in disbelief.
"It's because she watches Letterman," I said. Nothing. I swallowed hard. "Uh, Sher," I said. "I think you're going to jail tonight."
"Jail! I can't go to jail!" She turned to him. "I can't go to jail! Have you ever tried to sleep in a leather bustier? It can't be done!"
"Sorry," he said. "You should've thought about that before you propositioned me." He took hold of the crook of her arm to steer her through the store.
"Hey!" she yelled. "Wait! You don't want to arrest me. My sister here's an attorney and she'll sue you for everything you've got!"
He narrowed his eyes at me. "That true?"
"Not exactly," I said. "Actually
"Oh, hell," I muttered, and stepped around the end cap with a bright smile. "Sher! I've been looking for you. I"
The man whipped around to size me up with a death glare. It didn't take him too long to decide I wasn't a threat. Or a hooker. Fortunately, I'd worn a pair of shorts I'd cut from old sweatpants, my dingy Keds, and a moth-eaten sweatshirt to ward off the store's chill. Looks-wise, I was as far removed from Sherri as Pam Anderson was from Janet Reno. "Do you know this woman?" he demanded.
"She's my sister."
Sherri seemed to have shriveled inside her leather casing. "We're just here to meet single men. Tell him, Jamie."
"Well, that's not exactly true." I approached in baby steps in case he had a gun to go with those handcuffs. "I'm not looking for a man. I'm just here for some cake mix." I held up the basket as proof. No reaction. Guess he didn't like cake. "But my sister here, she was looking for a date"
"I got that much," he said. "You can meet her downtown. Come on, ma'am."
"I'm not a ma'am," Sherri protested, struggling against the cuffs. "I'm a Ms. Or Miss."
"She wants to be a Mrs.," I said helpfully. He was decent looking enough, if you overlooked the hostility of the handcuffs.
"That's true," Sherri said, brightening. "Would you happen to be married, Mr.…?"
"Detective. And it's none of your business." He glanced into her cart. "You don't seem to be shopping for much in the way of food, ma'am."
"Hey, I tried to find the squash," Sherri said. "Bigger is better, right? A cucumber was the best I could do."
Behind us, I heard the old woman gasp, and then I heard a thump that I hoped wasn't her hitting the floor in a dead faint.
"She's not much of a shopper," I said. "Can't you see this is all just a misunderstanding?"
"I think I understand," the detective said, and I smiled. Finally. "Your sister made a pretty lewd offer concerning that cucumber," he said, and my smile disappeared. I heard the faint squeak of shopping cart wheels as the old man edged a little closer. This was good stuff to the Lawrence Welk set.
"Oh, come on." Sherri stuck out her lower lip. "All I said was you should see what I can do with a cucumber that big."
I rolled my eyes. The squeaking stopped, and I heard another thump and a low curse. The old man had plowed right into a display of packaged pepperoni. Served him right for being lascivious.
"Exactly," the detective said. "You think I don't know what that means?"
"It means a big salad," Sherri said. "Lettuce. Carrots. Cucumber. A salad."
"It means solicitation." The cop snatched the cucumber in question from her. "By the way, this is evidence."
"Look," Sherri said, "don't you think you're taking this too far? I mean, I can't help it if you're insecure about your manhood."
The thing about Sherri was she never knew when to quit.
"Let's go." He gave her shopping cart a shove with his foot. "You can explain it all to the judge in the morning."
"Maybe the judge will be reasonable," Sherri said pointedly. "Only you have to tell me now what time I need to be there, because I'll have to set my alarm. I can't wake up early without an alarm."
The detective looked at me in disbelief.
"It's because she watches Letterman," I said. Nothing. I swallowed hard. "Uh, Sher," I said. "I think you're going to jail tonight."
"Jail! I can't go to jail!" She turned to him. "I can't go to jail! Have you ever tried to sleep in a leather bustier? It can't be done!"
"Sorry," he said. "You should've thought about that before you propositioned me." He took hold of the crook of her arm to steer her through the store.
"Hey!" she yelled. "Wait! You don't want to arrest me. My sister here's an attorney and she'll sue you for everything you've got!"
He narrowed his eyes at me. "That true?"
"Not exactly," I said. "Actually
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