“Good luck, Jaine,” she said. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Call me if you need me for a stakeout or something. That might be fun.”

I assured her I’d give her a ring if I needed company on a stakeout, and a few minutes later, she faxed me the addresses.

Then, after a quick shower, I got dressed and headed out the door to go killer hunting.

I was halfway down the path to my Corolla when I heard Lance calling me. He came running out of his apartment in shorts and a T-shirt, not an ounce of fat visible anywhere except in the cream cheese he was scarfing down on a toasted bagel. Tucked under his arm was a copy of the Times.

“You poor thing. I saw the story in the paper.” He shook his head in sympathy. “Passport photo?”

“Nope. Driver’s license.”

“You ought to demand a retraction.”

“I don’t think they can retract a photo, Lance.”

“Too bad,” he said, licking cream cheese off his thumb. “The cops don’t really think you have anything to do with the murder, do they?”

“I hope not.”

“Didn’t you tell them about all the murders you’ve solved?”

“I mentioned it to the lieutenant in charge of the case, but he didn’t seem very impressed.”

Lance polished off the last of his bagel and put his arm around me.

“I’m sure everything will be okay, hon. Although I guess it’s hard for you to cope, what with your PMS.”

Didn’t anyone actually read beyond the headlines anymore?

“I don’t have PMS,” I said, pulling away in annoyance. “It’s just the name of the club. It’s actually a support group.”

“For someone who doesn’t have PMS, you’re awfully snippy. But I understand,” he said, patting my arm. “You’re under a lot of pressure. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks, Lance.”

“By the way, this may not be the best time to ask, but I don’t suppose you could fix me up with Colin. He’s awfully cute.”

He gazed down at Colin’s picture in the paper. Luckily for Colin, the Times had run a decent photo of him, one in which he actually resembled a member of the human race.

I blinked in disbelief.

“Lance, the guy is a suspect in a murder case. He could be a killer.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“You’re nuts.”

“C’mon. Just give him my number.”

“Okay,” I sighed. “But don’t blame me if he stands you up. Or knocks you off.”