Red Rum: A Rosie Casket Mystery by R.M. Wild (top 100 novels of all time .TXT) 📕

balled my fists and wanted to punch the sarcasm from his lips. “If you wanted to see me, then why didn’t you just call me?”

“I did call. I called you a couple of times, but you never answered. I figured either you were ignoring me or something bad had happened. Either way, I came to see you. I jimmied the lock because I was worried about you. I still am.”

I remembered my missing phone. “I didn’t answer because I lost my phone. But that doesn’t give you the right to break in here.”

“What right do you have to kiss that guy?”

I steamed.

“That’s right,” he said. “I saw you two on the porch.”

“I have the right to kiss whomever I want, whenever I want.”

“You promised me a date. You kept saying you were too busy. But it was all a lie. You’ve got plenty of time for that Ken Doll.”

“His name is Kendall. KENDALL. Remember? We knew him in high school. You used to torture him in the locker room.

Mettle snickered. “Oh yeah. The old hot dog hammock,” he said. He rubbed his head, his fingers touching the widow’s peak at the beginning of a receding hairline. “I don’t care what his real name is. He looks like a plastic doll. And like a Ken Doll, I bet he’s got a nice plastic nub where his junk is supposed to be. Have fun with that.”

“You are soooo mature.”

“And you’re dating a mannequin. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“I’m not dating him,” I said.

“BS. You were sucking face. I saw you. And you’re made up like a Barbie.”

“We went to the school reunion together. I had to go with him. I made a promise.”

“Oh please. You made me a promise too. You didn’t have to go. You didn’t see me there, did you?”

I put my hands on my hips. “And why not? I thought you’d jump at the chance to wallow in your former iron-grill glory.”

“It’s called the gridiron.”

“Whatever.”

Mettle plopped onto the couch as if sustaining the argument had sucked the energy out of him. “I didn’t go to the reunion because while you were down in New York pretending to be too good for Dark Haven, I was still here, hauling this town’s elephant poo down to the slammer. I’ve either arrested or cited half of those corn logs. Imagine every time you pull someone over, you recognize them from high school. After a while, that takes a toll. There was no need to go and stir up bad feelings and ruin everyone’s night.”

“If you must know, I went as a favor,” I said.

“A favor to who? Kendall?”

“You mean whom. And yes, it was Kendall.”

“Why? Did he forget one of his Barbie accessories?”

“That’s my business.”

“Fine, if you want to play it like that, maybe the next time I risk my job to pass you the dirt on an ongoing investigation, I keep my lips sealed.”

“Oh, grow up,” I said.

“You grow up.”

The pyramid of kindling he had assembled to get the fire going collapsed and a puff of embers and flaming rose petals blew onto the hearth and changed the room from orange to purple. He might’ve been good at getting the fire started, but he wasn’t very good at keeping it going.

“Here’s the truth: I agreed to go with Kendall because he saved your butt from the assault charges.”

Mettle’s face fell. “He did what?”

“You heard me. The chief didn’t just let you off the hook.”

“Kendall talked to Herrick?”

“Yes.”

On the table, the candles had also lost their reason to keep burning and the flames plunged suicidally into the pool of liquid wax surrounding the wicks.

“Great, now I feel like an idiot,” Mettle said quietly.

“Good,” I said. “You should. That’s how idiots feel.”

He stuck his tongue out at me. “You didn’t have to kiss him, though, did you? You didn’t have to get all made up like that.”

“I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me.”

“But you didn’t punch him afterward. That’s how I know you liked it. You might as well have frenched him.”

“Is that what you do whenever a boy kisses you? You punch him in the face?”

“Yes, er—no fair, you know what I mean.”

I danced a jig in front of him. “Are you jealous, Mr. Mettle boy?”

“Shut up. No.”

I kept dancing. “You’re jealous. I can see your arms twitching. You’ve been flexing this whole time.”

“I’m about to slap you, Casket.”

“Go ahead. Hashtag Double Standard. How do you think you made me feel when you were making out with Bella?”

Mettle touched his lips as if remembering what she tasted like. “I’m sorry, okay? Let’s drop it now. I’m big enough to admit defeat.”

“You’re what?”

“I said I’m sorry. What else do you want?”

I reached into my purse for my phone. “I want this confession on the record,” I said. I dug deeper and then remembered my phone had gone missing. “Right. My phone is missing. I had it last when I submitted my information to the state’s website. Then, when I was getting dressed…”

“Maybe it’s somewhere in the house,” he said and took out his phone and called my number.

Sure enough, from somewhere upstairs, there came a faint ring.

“Bingo,” he said. He got off the couch and headed for the stairs.

“Wait, wait,” I said heading after him. I couldn’t remember if I had left any sensitive articles of clothing in plain view. “I’ll go up first.”

“Nonsense,” he said.

I slipped out of my heels and ran up after him, the stairs protesting under both of our weights at once.

The phone kept ringing. At the top of the stairs, Mettle made an immediate left and went straight into my room.

“Matt, hold on.”

He flipped on the light, but stopped inside the door frame. On the bed, I had laid out ten different pairs of underwear, all in order of diminishing fabric, from granny briefs near my pillow, down to a teeny-tiny g-string at the foot of the bed.

He pointed at the g-string. “I didn’t think that was your style.”

My face flushed as bright as an