Ben’s Jag was parked in front of the building and Meg watched as Ben opened the passenger door and carefully helped Lane into the passenger’s seat.  He then popped the trunk and placed Lane’s briefcase next to his before opening the driver’s door.  Meg was sure the detective flinched as they watched Ben get in the car and reach to stroke Lane’s face.

Lane looked at her watch.  Both she and Ben had commitments at seven o’clock, so there was no time for dinner out tonight.  “How do you feel about meeting for dinner after basketball and book club?  If you’re hungry now, we could grab a quick bite at home.”

Ben, who since Memorial Day weekend made it a habit to hold her hand as he drove, gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ve been trying to take you out for dinner all week, and we don’t seem to make it. So yes, let’s have dinner.  Meet me at Papa’s after book club.”

Captain Burke had retrieved Lane’s garage door opener and Ben used it to open the garage.  He opened her door, went to the trunk to grab her briefcase, and then followed her into the house.  Ben asked Lane to get him a Diet Coke for the road.  Lane had gone into the kitchen, completely oblivious to the carefully choreographed search Ben made of the rest of the house.  With the murder weapon being found in her bedroom, and her car being set on fire, there was no way he was leaving her alone without securing the house.  She might be the most intelligent woman he’d ever known, but she was also the most trusting and naïve.  How he was going to convince her to spend the night at his house was another problem completely.

He came back to the kitchen to find she’d made a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches.

“Here, take these with you.  Ronda will have snacks, so I’ll be fine, but you might need a bite to tide you over.”

He laughed and took her in his arms and held her tight against his chest.  The need he felt to keep her safe was as primal to him as his need for air. He kissed her and as their tongues mingled, she moaned.  It nearly brought him to his knees every time she made that throaty little moan, and she made that sound every time his tongue met hers.

Lane walked him to the garage and gave him another serious kiss.  “I’ll see you at Papa’s.”

Lane quickly changed from her suit and heels into jeans and sandals.  She tossed the suit in the dry cleaning bag.  She paused at the nightstand, grabbed her e-reader, and put it into her purse. They’d be discussing the latest Janet Evanovich during book club.  She’d met these women at the bookstore in the mystery section and over the course of six months; they had formed the book club that they called Murder Mayhem and Merlot.  There were 12 members now and each month, they took turns hosting the book club.  The member who was hosting the following month made the book selection that would be discussed at her house.  So while the rule was that the books all had to be mysteries, there was a wide variety of genres from the light comedic style of Janet Evanovich to the darker style of Carol O’Connell as well as classics by Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle.  Ronda had chosen Evanovich, and Lane knew the main topic of discussion wouldn’t be writing styles as much as which man Stephanie Plum was ultimately going to choose.

She grabbed the keys to her Cadillac Escalade from the hook by the garage door and pushed the button to open the door.  Ronda lived near the stadiums and she had less than half an hour to get across town.  Despite her good intentions, it seemed being late was quickly becoming a way of life.  She hated being late.

As was always the case with the MMM club, Lane was relaxed and entertained for a couple of hours. She had a glass of white zinfandel, some hors d'oeuvres and laughed about Stephanie Plums latest antics.  Lane was the host for book club next month, and since she read between three and five books a week, it was sometimes difficult to choose a book.  She’d done a quick search in her e-reader and selected an old Kate Bacus book about a twenty something year old woman in Iowa stumbling on dead bodies. Something Lane could relate to just now.

Ben and Mick had arrived at the Y within minutes of each other.  They quickly got Colin Burke and the three approached Adam Hunter who was a detective with the Overland Park Police Department.  That was one of the problems with the Kansas City metropolitan area; there were so many different jurisdictions within a small area.  Lane had discovered the body in Leawood, but she worked in Overland Park, which is where the fire had occurred.  Mick was investigating the murder, but he had no jurisdiction concerning the car fire and neither he nor Ben had any doubt that finding the murder weapon in her house closely followed by her car being set on fire were more than a mere coincidence.

After Mick laid out the facts around the murder, he explained that he’d found the murder weapon at Lane’s house and that while on the surface she would seem to be the prime suspect, that he was sure she hadn’t done it, and that they were pursuing other leads. Colin Burke explained the unusual circumstances of the car fire and Adam Hunter agreed to investigate.  They arranged to meet at the Overland Park Police station the following day.

It was a good thing that they talked before the game.  Ben, Colin, and Mick were on the same team, and they’d trounced Adam’s team. He might not have been so agreeable afterward.

The guys often went out for drinks after the game, but since Ben had plans with Lane, he had showered, dressed and was on his way out the door when Mick caught up with him.

“I’ve just gotten confirmation that the blood on the screwdriver was Paul Gardener’s.  I’ll probably have to bring Lane back in for questioning.  I can wait until after we meet with Hunter tomorrow.  Maybe we can dig something else up that would point the finger someplace else.”

Ben thanked him, and as he went to his car, he called Roy Tanner.  Tanner was a retired Kansas City Missouri homicide detective who now worked for Ben’s law firm.  Ben had known Mick for years, and knew him to be a thorough investigator, but this was about Lane, and he wanted Tanner on the case.  He ended the call with Tanner and started his car.

Ben walked into Bellini’s and found Lane at the bar enjoying a Bellini cocktail.  The Bellini cocktail had nothing to do with either the restaurant or his family.  It had been invented between 1934 and 1948 in Venice, Italy.  The original was made with white peach puree and sparkling Italian wine.  The restaurant’s version was made with Italian sparkling wine and peach Schnapps.  Enzo was working on something he called the Bellini-tini.  Peaches marinated in vodka, the vodka extracted and shaken with ice then served in a martini glass.

Ben kissed Lane’s cheek and took her hand as she stood.  Ben cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at the bartender.

“She insisted on waiting for you here,” Enzo replied.

In Bellini’s, the family ate in a private room called the Board Room. And, they never, never waited in the bar.

“It’s fine Enzo, I understand,”  Ben said as he placed his hand in the small of Lane’s back and guided her toward the Board Room.

There was no need to order.  The bartender had sent word to the kitchen the minute Ben arrived.  When Ben opened the door to the Board Room, a table for two was already set.  The waiter was already at the table and had opened a bottle of wine to let it breathe.  He brought fresh bread, poured olive oil onto a plate, and added herbs.  They were the only people in the room.  Ben held Lane’s chair as she sat.  The waiter held Ben’s chair and then showed him the bottle of wine, and poured a bit into his glass to taste.

As always, the wine was from Ben’s private reserve.  There was no question that the wine would be excellent.  Ben tasted it and nodded.  The waiter picked up Lane’s glass and poured, then poured for Ben.  He put the bottle on the table and left.