Page 133 of Without a Clue

Hugh’s The Last Detective.

Everybody is guilty, ergo no one is.

“Kiss me,” I say.

“What?” he says. He raises his brow, eyes dancing around for clues, gazing from me, to the pill between my teeth, to the air around us. “What happened? Why now?”

“Four reasons,” I say. “Because you’re not the killer. Because I love you. Because, I have realized in all this, I love myself. And you know what? I deserve this. I deserve good things. And lastly, because I’ve read about how smell is uniquely powerful in triggering vivid and emotional memories, and I for one will be drinking peppermint tea every day to remind me of this. Exact. Moment.”

Nash’s hands envelop mine. I can see him processing my words with each passing second he gets closer. A light reaches his eyes. Then a twinkle. Then a smile. “Peppermint kiss, you say?”

I grin. Crack the peppermint in my mouth. “A peppermint kiss,” I repeat.

“That does sound refreshing.” His eyes drift down to my nose, then lips. A smile tugs up his lips and I feel my heart race, the moment stretching.

I don’t wait.

I can’t.

I don’t have another millisecond of patience in me.

I reach up, grab him by the collar, and pull him toward me. My breath catches as his hands gently cup my cheeks. His thumbs brush lightly over my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

I draw his lips to mine, brushing lightly. His beard tickles my cheeks. He leans in further, his hands cupped around my face.

My fingers curl into his flannel.

Sparks fly.

Maybe it’s on the outside. Maybe a transformer blew and the chandelier will fall down any moment. Maybe the candles have tipped over and the tablecloths are on fire. Maybe the world is in absolute chaos and the whole ship is about to go down.

Or maybe it’s all just inside.

But whatever it is, I hold fast to Nash with the same ferocity as he holds fast to me, in the hope of never letting go.

I guess that’s what happens when four years of waiting finally comes to an end.

When we break apart, the room is spinning, the dancers are spinning. My head is spinning. But Nash is still right here. His head bent over mine. Forehead to forehead. So close our noses graze.

“I love you, Pip,” he whispers in a peppermint haze.

“I love you too,” I whisper back.

I bite my bottom lip.

Inhale one more breath of this incredible moment.

Then stand. “Be right back,” I say.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Nash says as I begin to stride off.

“To find the last clue and see if I’m right,” I say and begin running. Over my shoulder I cry, “And if I am, to kill somebody myself.”

Chapter 23

Breaking into Ricky’s room was easy.

“Why are we breaking into Ricky’s room now?”