The Final Arrangement Read Online Free Page B

was there.  He must have bragged to someone about it afterward.  Big tough man knocking down an unsuspecting woman.  He had probably changed the details of the story to whomever he talked to.
    “Quincy, he’s here.”  Nick called.
    The ball in my stomach returned after I stood up and saw the navy and white Crown Victoria parked directly in front of the shop.  Not exactly good for business to have the cops parked just outside the front door.
    I made a quick dash to the bathroom in the rear workroom to do a once over in the mirror over the sink.  As I fluffed up my hair and checked my teeth for foreign bodies it occurred to me I was doing something my mother would do.  I shut the light off and returned to the design room.
    I gasped as soon as I saw our visitor.  How could this guy possibly have been the jerk on the phone?  It didn’t seem karmically fair.  The officer in the front of my store wore a uniform that fit just right over a body which was obviously toned and hard underneath the taut navy fabric.  His physical presence alone commanded my attention, not to mention the gun in the holster at his waist, along with all of the other objects on his belt.  He must’ve been six-four.  Tall, even by my five-nine standards. 
    “Hi,” I said as I approached and extended my hand.  I didn’t know if it was proper procedure to shake hands with the police in this situation.  I was on autopilot; this officer’s good looks were distracting.
    “Hi.” His return handshake was accompanied by a smile.  The gesture was firm but not a bone crusher.  They say you can always tell a lot about a person by the way they shake your hand.  He displayed strength, along with thoughtfulness for another person, and handsomeness.  I could have imagined it, but I thought his gaze lingered an extra beat as our eyes met.
    This was decidedly different than I had imagined after this morning’s phone call.
    “I think I spoke with you earlier today on the phone?” 
    “Um…I don’t remember talking to you.”  A look of confusion spread over his amazingly handsome face.  “I’m Officer Cooper.  Are you sure it was me you talked to?  I’m here about a hit-and-run call that came into dispatch.” 
    “Oh, sorry, I guess I spoke with a different officer this morning.”  Relief.  “Yes—hit-and-run.  That would be Nick’s department.”  I called Nick’s name toward the back of the store.  He had become scarce after announcing Cooper’s arrival. 
    “So, are you the manager here?” Cooper asked.
    “You could say that.  I’m the owner, actually,” my cheeks heated up at this, for some reason.
    “And you were involved in a hit-and-run?”
    “No, it was my driver, Nick, who seems to have disappeared.”  
    “Okay.  Well, let me get your information down and then we’ll find Nick and talk to him.”  He unsnapped his front shirt pocket and my knees got weak.  My palms were sweaty and I think I may have drooled a little.  Then he pulled a tiny notebook and pencil out of the pocket. 
    “So your name is Rosie?”
    “No, my name is Quincy.  The business is named for my Aunt Rosie, the previous owner.”
    “Oh, that makes sense.  So, Quincy,” he looked down at me and smiled, “is that your full name?”
    Ugh, the name. 
    “Quinella Adams McKay.  Q…U…I…N…” I spelled it before he had to ask me to.  
    Nick returned, looking furtive. 
    “Nick,” I said, “this is Officer Cooper.  Tell him what you told me.”
    Nick began his tale and I listened in. 
    “So you’re saying that this car hit the rear driver’s side as you were getting into the left hand turn lane?” Cooper asked.
    “Yes,” Nick replied.
    “Well,” Cooper paused slightly, the pause proclaiming doubt, “let’s take a look at the car.”
    I asked if Nick needed to be present while looking at the damage.  He didn’t, so I directed Nick to stay inside and stack the clean, dry buckets.
    We made our way to the