Castleton

  Friday

  Rachel Corbin's Apartment

  Rachel steps out of the shower and crosses to the sink, pulling her hair up loosely to the top of her head. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, studying her face from every angle. Is it just her imagination, or are her cheeks a lot rounder these days? Not only that, her uniforms all seem to fit a bit more snuggly. Ergh. The last thing she needs right now is to gain a few more pounds.

  Grabbing her hair dryer with one hand, Rachel backs away from the sink. She issues a frustrated growl and tosses her hair to one side--preparing to blowdry it out. The ringing of the doorbell brings that idea to a halt. Tossing her hair back, Rachel rushes to grab her robe from the towel rack.

  "Oh my gosh! It's always when I'm in the shower. Why can't they ever drop off a package when I'm watching TV or eating? It's always when I'm in the damn shower! Ergh. Sometimes, I think the universe hates me."

  Rachel throws on her bathrobe and speed walks out of the master bathroom. The idea of someone taking her package in her extended absence spurs Rachel along. She practically flies up the hallway and through the living room. Cinching her robe tighter, Rachel wrenches the front door open. Her plan is to grab the package and slam the door as quickly as possible. However, she is not expecting to find Detective Samuels waiting for her on the other side of the door.

  "Hello, Miss. Corbin," Detective Samuels says, nodding his head politely. "I'm Detective Martin Samuels. I'm the detective in charge of investigating the Reardon-Melbourne Case. May we have a word? I won't take up too much of your time."

  "Um...Sure," Rachel says, subconsciously adjusting the open neckline of her robe. "Um...Come in."

  Detective Samuels nods a second time and enters the apartment. He looks around observantly, taking in every detail. Offering Rachel a kind smile, he nods yet again.

  "Nice place you have here. Really cozy."

  "Uh...Thanks. Would you like something to drink, Detective...Uh."

  "Samuels."

  "Uh...Yes. Detective Samuels. Sorry. My mind is somewhere else today. Would you like some coffee or a soda?"

  "A soda would be nice," Detective Samuels answers with a wide grin. "I'm full up on coffee for one day. Thanks."

  "Right. I'll get you something. I hope you don't mind sugar free? Just let me slip into something a bit more...Appropriate...And I'll be right back. Excuse me."

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  As soon as Rachel is gone, Detective Samuels commences looking around. He keeps his ears perked for any sounds which might imply Rachel is leaving the premises or frantically calling an accomplice.

  -

  -

  Not long later

  When Rachel returns to the living room, there are two cans of diet soda gripped in her slender hands. She crosses to Detective Samuels and offers him a ginger ale.

  "It's the best we've got right now. I seriously need to go shopping. Hope that's okay?" Rachel says with a shy smile, positioning a strand of damp hair behind her right ear.

  "Ah, yes. Your fiancé...Ned. Where is he, by the way?"

  "I'm not sure," Rachel quickly says. "He's out running errands. Said he'd be back around five or six. You can never tell with Ned, though. Ha. Five or six...Could mean five or six in the morning."

  "Does he do that a lot?" Detective Samuels inquires. "Has he done that...Say...Recently?"

  "All the time. Ned is...Well, Ned. He does what he wants, and there isn't a damned thing I can do about it. I'm just the girlfriend. Ha."

  "Hmmm," Detective Samuels mutters under his breath.

  As if summoned, keys are shoved into the front lock and Ned enters the apartment. He spies Rachel standing in the center of the living room floor a split second before he sees Detective Samuels. An unhappy expression alters Ned's already dour visage. He eyes Detective Samuels with suspicion, also taking note of Rachel's still wet hair. What the hell is going on here?

  "What the hell is going on here, Rachel?" Ned exclaims, voicing his thoughts aloud.

  "Um. Ned, this is Detective Samuels. He came over to talk to me about the Evelyn Reardon case. He just got here actually," Rachel hastily fills Ned in.

  Ned looks Detective Samuels up and down before crossing to where Rachel stands. He places one hand behind the nape of the young woman's neck, drawing Rachel to him. He kisses her passionately, making clear to Detective Samuels who is the man in Rachel's life. Squeezing Rachel's right breast through her blouse, Ned lowers his other hand and slaps her butt. Rachel grimaces but doesn't gasp.

  "Why you talking to my Rachel, Detective?" Ned says, briefly separating his mouth from Rachel's. "She told you everything once already. She didn't see who nabbed your victim. Why keep bothering her?"

  Ned wetly kisses Rachel again, adding suction to his kiss and tilting her head. Detective Samuels' eyes narrow in his face as he observes Ned's over the top antics. No one is this lovey dovey in front of company without a good reason. Or a really bad one.

  "If this is a bad time," Detective Samuels begins to say, briefly catching Rachel's eye. "I can come back another time."

  Ned finally moves away from Rachel, sliding his left hand across her chest from one side of her collarbone to the other. Rachel visibly shivers as Ned trails the same hand over her throat and damp hair.

  "Nah. Have your little talk, Detective," Ned adds sarcastically. "Don't let me get in the way of your investigation. I'm just gonna go get me a shower. I've been working like a dog today, Rachel. I'd ask you to join me but you look like you've already had a shower. Although, you can still join me...If you like? You look beautiful, Babe. Anymore of those ginger ales in the fridge?"

  "Yes. There's two left," Rachel answers. "Inside the door, bottom rack."

  "Alright. That's fine."

  Ned disappears into the kitchen. Rachel turns her head to meet Detective Samuels' gaze.

  "Sorry about that, Detective. What were you going to ask me?"

  "It's fine," Detective Samuels responds.

  By this point, the frustrated look on the greenhorn detective's face has morphed into something akin to great disdain.