Faith ate the last bite of her watercress while Tom wiped hamburger grease and ketchup from the corner of his mouth. This was her umpteenth blind date since her divorce went through last year, and she’d finally found a good man. Tom went to the gym six days a week and called his parents every Sunday. He’d talked with her about books and movies and admired Meryl Streep in Iron Lady. He’d said “It’s about darned time we had a woman president.” He’d actually said darned. The man didn’t even swear! He had a square, manly jaw and blue eyes that made Faith think of Adonis. And did she really see a ray of sunlight glint off those perfect teeth?
The waitress placed the check between them, and Faith reached into her purse for her Visa card. Dutch was fine, of course. She expected that. Warmth suffused her face. Oh, to be alone with this man.
Faith looked at her watch. “Well, I have to get back to work,” she said with a twinge of regret. “I really enjoyed your company.”
Tom smiled. God, could he smile. “Me too, Faith. It’s good to get out of the salt mines once in a while.”
She wondered if she should take the initiative or wait for this terrific guy to speak up. A bit nervously, she said, “You know, I would really like to see you again. Do you think—?”
“I would, Faith. You’re very nice, and you’re a great listener.” Tom pushed his chair back, ready to leave without glancing at the check. “But no. I don’t date fat women.”
Later in the afternoon, Faith explained these events to the detective in Central Booking, but she couldn’t explain the steak knife in Tom’s chest.