No Such Thing As a Good Blind Date: A Brandy Alexander Mystery (No Such Thing As: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) Read Online Free Page B

some guy called while you were out. Randolph…Rudolph…?”
    “Adolph?” I suggested helpfully.
    “Barry,” he beamed. “Barry Kaminski. Something about dinner Saturday night. He wants you to call him.”
    After I ate all of the meatloaf and mashed potatoes, I called Barry back. He had a rich, mature baritone that reminded me of Ted Baxter on the Mary Tyler Moore Show, and his speech was very formal. You could tell this man worked for network news, not some crappy local station where the reporters are like stand-up comics, doing their personal “schtick” while reporting on a three car pile-up on I-95.
    We agreed that he’d come here for dinner. I really wanted Barry to see that I’d gone to a lot of trouble to prepare a delicious meal for him, so that when I hit him up for a job he’d be hard pressed to turn me down. I made a mental note to call DiBruno Brothers to pre-order lasagna and stop by Perini’s for dessert.
    I cleaned up the dinner dishes and flopped on the couch, flipping through the stations until I reached Nick at Nite. Roseann was on. Oh goody. I’ve always found Dan very attractive. He’s cute and solid and dependable. And he’s always there for Roseann. Not like the men in my life. Not that I’ve had so many. Just one, to be specific. And then several weeks ago, there was the promise of one more—well, maybe promise is too strong a word— okay, a faint possibility, but that didn’t pan out and I guess I’ve been in a bit of a funk about it. Maybe everyone’s been right to worry about me. It’s time I moved on. I decided to devote the evening to spiritual growth, but Full House was on next and I just love that little Michelle. I guess my path to enlightenment could wait another half an hour.
    I woke up late and had to race to get ready for my appointment. Although I’d convinced myself that Barry was the president of ABC and was going to fall in love with me and make me co-anchor of Nightline, I thought it’d be wise to have a backup plan—just a little extra cash to tide me over while Barry and I worked out the details of my contract. Paul was looking for a waitress to fill in at his place. He owns a dance club downtown and one of his staff got nabbed on a DUI. Since it was her second offense she’ll be out of commission for a while. Meeting with Paul was just a formality; it was either hire me or pay my mortgage.
    I ran down to the basement to grab a pair of jeans out of the drier and banged my knee against a freezer that was plugged into the far wall. It was covered in Budweiser Beer decals and looked like it had seen better days.
    I entered the kitchen to find Toodie lying prone on the floor, his head stuffed under the sink. “What’s in the freezer, Toodie?”
    He stuck his head out briefly and said, “Omaha steaks” before disappearing under the sink again. “I’ve got to get to work by noon, or Russell says he’s gonna can my ass. But I just wanted to do a quick—uh oh.”
    Oh, that didn’t sound good. I squatted down next to him to get a better view. It smelled like a sewage plant under there. I’m not a plumber but I don’t think orange sludge oozing out of the disposal is a good sign.
    “No worries. I’ve got it all under control.”
    I stopped at the car wash on the way to Paul’s club. It had rained last weekend and I’d left the window open a crack to help de-fog the windshield. The problem was I forgot to close it again and the floor mats got soaked. They dried right up when I blasted the heat, but it left a foul odor reminiscent of old tennis shoes. I found some air fresheners on the counter by the cash register and I was trying to decide between Alpine Breeze and New Mown Grass when my cell phone rang.
    “It’s Franny.”
    “Fran! How’s the honeymoon?” Eddie surprised Franny with a cruise, which was very sweet but maybe not the best choice for a woman three months pregnant and in the throes of morning sickness. I opted for Alpine Breeze and handed