Here Comes the Body. Maria DiRico

the footage will show my dad is telling the truth.”

      “For his sake, I hope so. Now, let’s talk about another Carina with a track record who was actually on the premises tonight. You.” He added the last word to bring home the obvious point that he was talking about Mia.

      Mia crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms across her chest. “You do know I was cleared as a suspect in my husband’s disappearance? And he’s presumed dead at sea?”

      “‘Presumed’ being the operative word. Maybe your father didn’t off this woman who showed up to blackmail him. He has a daughter who loves him very much and would do anything to protect him. And that daughter is you.”

      “Yes, me, I get it, Pete. But like my father, I’m not stupid. And the closest I’ve ever come to doing anything illegal is jaywalking.”

      “I go back to that word, ‘presumed.’ It’s important because it implies doubt. No Adam Grosso body, no final conclusion.” Pete had a point, much as Mia hated to admit it. Until her husband’s body washed up and an autopsy cleared her of any involvement in his death, she would always be under a cloud of suspicion. “I need someone who isn’t you or your father to inventory the knives,” the detective continued.

      “Meaning because you see us as possible suspects, you can’t trust us.”

      “I was trying to be delicate, but yup. We need to determine if one of Belle View’s knives is currently resting in the vic’s chest.”

      “I’ll ask our head chef to look into it.”

      There was a loud knock and Park Lexington appeared in the doorway. Behind her stood one of John Grazio’s bachelor party guests. “I wanted to say good night and thanks for a great gig,” Park said. “I’m definitely gonna incorporate some comedy into my act. Brendan here’s in advertising. He’s gonna help me brand myself. The Stripper with a Sense of Humor.”

      “Congratulations,” Mia said.

      There was an awkward pause. Finally, Park said, “My check?”

      “Oh. Right. We need to pay you.”

      “Double, if you don’t mind, because I basically worked two shifts.”

      “That you did, ha ha.” Mia barked a mirthless laugh as she pulled out a register from her desk and wrote Park a check. Could anyone on the planet have had a worst first week of work? she wondered as she handed it to the stripper.

      Park and her new business partner-slash-date took off, and Mia turned her attention back to Pete Dianopolis. The detective was furiously scribbling in a pad. “Notes on the case?” she asked hopefully.

      Pete kept writing. “The plot for the next Steve Stianopolis mystery’s finally coming together. A boat. A young beauty who may or may not be a widow. A father with a shady past . . .”

      Mia liked the “young beauty” part. But she was more determined than ever not to provide Dianopolis and his poorly written books with an ending that pegged her father—or her—as the villain.