My Private Detective. Rebecca Winters

any more time went by. With a class full of women who were open in their admiration of him, he’d probably brought his son to make the statement that he was unavailable.

      “Because of the nature of my work, he can’t go to the office with his dad.” His comment produced chuckles. “We both thought the next best thing would be for him to sit in on this class so he can learn along with you.

      “I let him read all your synopses so he’d understand what we did in class last week. For what it’s worth, Lillian, he thought your mummy story was really cool.”

      A hand shot up.

      “Yes, Jackie?”

      “Lillian’s the only one of us published in book-length fiction. Your son has discerning taste.”

      The enthusiastic group agreed with her.

      Even from the distance separating them, Heidi could see the way the boy’s eyes lit up.

      “Did you hear that, Kevin? You picked a story that’ll probably turn out to be another bestseller.”

      “With your help, Detective Poletti, I’m planning on it,” Lillian said in obvious delight.

      He flashed the class a quick smile. “In that case, let’s get busy. First, I’m curious to find out how well you did your homework. After that, I’ll return your synopses. We’ll follow up with a five-minute break at eight. Then we’ll hear a mystery scenario from Heidi before I give you your assignment for Friday.”

      Embarrassed, Heidi forced herself to look anywhere except at the man who held their class in thrall.

      The next hour was illuminating. Just as they were all feeling pleased by his praise of their crime-scene workups, he showed the class why he was the expert.

      Standing at the chalkboard, Detective Poletti proceeded to change, embellish and add to their pitiful efforts, explaining all the while. He did it with a speed and clarity that took her breath.

      By the time he’d finished, the class sat there in stunned silence. He’d filled two blackboards with onsite procedures they’d never even considered, despite the textbook murder case he’d prepared for them as a guide.

      “Don’t bother to copy this down. While I pass back your stories, Kevin’s going to give you a handout of what I put on the board so you can study it at home.” He motioned to his son.

      “You’ll notice when you get your synopses that I’ve made a few suggestions for crime-scene procedures. Combined with the handout you’re receiving, you ought to be able to create a credible list that’ll add authenticity to your novels.”

      Heidi found herself wishing she had a copy of the crime-scene report that had been written the night of Amy’s murder. Something told her it would pale in comparison to what she could see written on her blackboards. The detail, the number of procedures, the orderly exploration of evidence—she doubted the real crime-scene report was a fraction as thorough as this fictional one. First thing in the morning she intended to phone John Cobb’s office to get what information she could.

      Deep in thought, she didn’t realize the boy had already started giving them the handouts. Everyone tried to engage him in conversation. Judging from his answers, he was embarrassed by all the attention. A pretty typical reaction for a boy his age.

      “Thank you, Kevin.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      “You must be proud of your father.”

      “I am.”

      “Are you going to be a police officer one day?”

      “Maybe.”

      “Where’d you get your blond hair?”

      “My mom.”

      “What grade are you in?”

      “Eight.”

      “Where do you go to school?”

      “Oakdale Middle School.”

      Heidi listened to the litany of questions that would have driven any of her own students crazy, too. He wasn’t a baby, but they were treating him like one. He showed remarkable poise by answering them, despite his obvious reluctance.

      As he drew closer, she darted him a brief glance. He was a cute boy, but she couldn’t really see any resemblance to his attractive father. Sometimes that happened.

      Dana, for instance, didn’t look like her parents nearly as much as Amy had. But Amy’s jealousy over Dana’s beauty and popularity had poisoned her soul long before someone had murdered her. That someone wasn’t Dana!

      When it came Heidi’s turn, she thanked Kevin for the handout, remembering what he’d said about attending Oakdale Middle School. It was only a few miles from Mesa Junior High. That meant the Poletti family lived in Mission Beach.

      None of it mattered of course. The fact that the detective’s residence was close to Heidi’s workplace should mean nothing to her.

      Gideon Poletti was a professional. So if she was going to ask for his help, she needed to do it on a professional basis—and forget the way he made her heart pound.

      He had a wife and child, for heaven’s sake! For all she knew, there were more children at home.

      Disturbed by her preoccupation with him, she opened her notebook and took out her synopsis. As he left the room with his son, she immersed herself in Dana’s case. It was vital she make a compelling presentation. This was her one chance to capture the detective’s interest. Since he might recognize the case, she decided she’d better use real names.