DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The 'she needs a man' mania of the pilot episode left me feeling a little snarky. Vague spoilers for said episode.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
THANKS: To Ann for the beta.
You Need a Man
"What was the cause of death?" Lindsay asked.
"How long's it been since you had a man?" Claire countered. "You can't bury yourself in your work all the time."
"Have you spoken to Tom?" Jill added.
Lindsay tried not to wince at the name. "Cause of death?"
"Bullet wound to the back." Claire passed her a copy of the autopsy report. "If you're determined not to even try with Tom, how about we hit the clubs and see if we can't find you someone new?"
"Have you tried on-line dating?" Jill took out her organiser. "I could forward the links to your home PC."
Lindsay read through the report. "Close range," she muttered.
"You're hiding behind your work," Claire complained. She shared a world weary look with Jill. "She doesn't even bother to try anymore."
"I know," the blonde agreed. "She didn't even flirt with that arson suspect last week, and he was cute."
"Did you get the search warrant for the girlfriend's condo?"
Jill looked confused for a moment before she remembered she was meant to be an Assistant District Attorney. "Here." She handed over the document in question. "Judge Donaldson just got divorced," she said. "He'd make you a great husband."
"He's sixty-three," Lindsay dismissed. "Does this include the storage space in the basement?" She waved the warrant in Jill's face. "Jill?"
"Yes." She looked to the coroner in exasperation. "She's impossible."
"Aren't you worried about dying an old maid?" Claire asked.
"The shelf is no place for someone with your cheekbones," Jill added.
Lindsay took out her phone and hit speed dial. "Hi, Cindy? How would you like to have dinner with an old maid?" She laughed, her eyes alight with mirth. "You're not so bad yourself." She looked down at the warrant. "Why don't you meet me on Sixth Street in an hour? There could be a story in it for you." More laughter followed before Lindsay snapped the phone shut. Looking up, she was met with twin looks of confusion. "What?"
"Cindy? That's not a guy's name, is it?" Jill asked.
"It's the reporter," Claire reminded her. "The redhead."
"You're going out to dinner with a woman?" The wheels inside Jill's mind slowly began to turn. "If you pretend you're hot for each other, guys are bound to come to your rescue."
"Nothing gets them hotter than watching two women going at it," Claire agreed.
For the first time since her so-called friends had started talking, Lindsay actually paid attention to their babble. "You think she'd be interested?"
"If she hasn't already got a man, I don't see why not." Jill looked pleased with herself and her brilliant idea. "Just tell her it's a sure fire way to get you both dates."
"And you don't have to use tongues."
"But we could," Lindsay murmured, a smile transforming her face and a glint of excitement entering her eyes. "I've gotta go," she said. "Thanks for the advice, ladies, it's been invaluable."
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