I’ve got a dinner date. Too bad I had to get arrested for murder to agree to it.

If I needed a reminder that life can change on a dime, getting my Miranda rights read on a sunny south Florida afternoon would be it. It’s also a good time to sternly remind myself that I, Avery English, detail-oriented investment advisor and cheap eyewear fashionista, am not a crier.

My last glimpse of freedom includes smoking-hot ex-cop Seven Donnelly, security consultant, who’s already speed-dialing his hotshot lawyer. He promises that he has my back—and he’s got a table reserved for when I make bail.

What a flirt.

The victim was a client of mine, and someone swears they saw me fleeing the scene. Joke’s on them. Numbers are my life, and I know to the minute when and what I was doing.