by Emmy Grace
“Of course not. We don’t have people like that in this town. No one has that much to hide.” He clears his throat and wipes at his mouth as he looks nervously around the room.
Unless you’re the mayor. Clearly, this guy has something to hide. And the harder he tries to hide it, the more obvious it becomes.
I give Mayor Dunning a casual smile and extend my hand again. “I’ll work hard to bring justice to Mr. Ames, sir. You can count on me.”
“I know I can, Lucky.”
He nods at me, nods at his son, and then turns to leave without another word.
“Oh, Mr. Mayor,” I say, just before he can disappear through the door. He swivels his head around to look back at me. “What kind of coffee did you have?”
“Excuse me?”
“This morning. The coffee that you just finished. What kind was it?” He stares at me blankly for a few seconds. The pause tells me all that I need to know. I let him off the hook quickly because I don’t want to make him too suspicious of my suspicion. I want him to let his guard down, not bolster it up. “I was thinking of going there after our meeting this morning. I thought you might have a recommendation.”
“Oh. Right. Their French roast is stellar in my opinion.”
I nod and smile graciously. “If it’s good enough for the mayor, it’s good enough for me. Enjoy your day, sir.”
I see his facial muscles relax and he ducks out the door, saying something to Regina as he passes. I pivot slowly on one foot until I’m facing a glowering Liam.
“Is he always like that?”
“Like what?”
“A snake in the grass.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I take it you have no problem with me viewing your dad as a suspect?”
“Not a single one.”
“Good. Let’s get to work figuring out who killed Andrew Ames.”
Petey walks in just then, making a commotion and demanding that we scatter. “You’re getting your contamination all over the scene.” He starts waving us away. “I already sent that friend of yours home. She was creating a public hazard with all her heaving. Townsfolk don’t need to see stuff like that.”
A public hazard? I’d love to know how he’d write that up on a ticket. Aggressive regurgitation? An act of digestive terrorism? Hostilus vomitus?
I raise my hands in surrender. I’m willing to go without a fight because there’s nothing I can do here right now anyway. Not in the bright light of day. Lucky for me, the crime scene will be preserved pretty much as is for at least another day. They’ll tape it off and then take care of the body. And in Salty Springs, that’ll probably take all day. But that’s good. Gives me time to think and poke around some.
I glance over at Liam. “Coffee?”
I raise my brows meaningfully. He nods. He gets what I’m saying.
With a grin, Liam sweeps his arm out in front of us. “Ladies first.”
I start off with Liam right behind me. Petey trails after us, shooing us all the way to the door.
When Liam and I arrive at Ann-n-Ann’s, which is the only place in town to get a good cup of joe, neither of us is surprised to discover that the mayor hadn’t been by a few minutes earlier to get coffee, to-go or otherwise.
I find that very telling. It takes a good bit of audacity to lie to someone’s face when they’re literally a couple of blocks from busting you on it. In my experience, it’s people who have no fear of getting caught (or punished) that are like that. People who feel like they don’t have to answer to anyone. People who feel like they’re above the law.
I think Slick Willie Dunning feels like he’s both of those.
“I guess we’re done here,” I say when our suspicions are confirmed.
“No reason we can’t stay and have a cup of coffee anyway. It looks like your meeting is cancelled.”
“It does, doesn’t it? And, actually, a cup of coffee sounds good.”
Liam touches his hand to my lower back and urges me toward an empty booth at the back of the diner. It’s the same one we sat in last time. Not that such a random fact means anything; I just notice it. Makes me wonder if Liam just likes this particular booth, or if it’s a subconscious thing. The latter intrigues me more. It brings up questions like why would he choose it? For its distance from the door? For its vantage point? Both of which I can see being appealing for an ex-agent of the FBI.
Or is it something else entirely? Does he like to hide? Doesn’t he want to be seen or observed? If that’s the case, why not?
I’m realizing that the more I’m around Liam Dunning, the more curious I am about him. Lots of questions about this man. Yep. I have lots of ’em.
As I glance around at the other patrons, SueAnn catches my eye. I smile. She smiles. And then her eyes flicker to Liam and back to me. She winks and gives me a thumbs-up.
Oh, Lord! She doesn’t think…
I shake my head in a this-isn’t-what-it-looks-like way, but she just keeps giving me the thumbs-up.
My face starts getting hot. Very hot.
I shake my head more vigorously, but she turns to walk off.
My burning face goes up in flames when I look back to Liam and he’s swinging his eyes from me to the spot where SueAnn was and then back to me again.
“What was that all about?”
“Oh, uh.” I laugh uncomfortably. I don’t know why this embarrasses me so much, but it does. I don’t want Liam to think I have designs on him. He probably gets a lot of that, especially in a small town like this. I definitely don’t want to be included in the mob of women chasing after the only handsome, eligible bachelor in the vicinity. “Just SueAnn being a goofball.”
“I didn’t realize you two knew each other that well.”
“We don’t. But she’s really friendly. Hard not to like.”
“I figured you might know LouAnn better.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, since she was just giving you the thumbs-up about me, I assumed the two of you might be close.”
Fire shoots from my cheeks all the way down to my boobs. Lord help. “SueAnn, LouAnn. I can’t tell them apart. Whichever one that was might think something’s going on between us, but it’s only because half the people in this town are delusional.”
“Agreed,” he says simply as he grabs a menu from the wire rack. I’m glad when he doesn’t pursue the conversation. “Wanna split a cinnamon roll?”
Good Lord, if we’re in the back booth of the diner, hiding out like secret lovers, splitting food will only further convince the people around here that there really is something going on.
But holy moly, a cinnamon roll sounds so good.
“Let’s just get our own. I love a good cinnamon roll, so I can eat a whole one.”
He looks doubtful. “Have you seen these?”
“No, but I’ve had about a bajillion in my life. How different can it be?”
“Okay,” he agrees. “Whatever you say.”
I understand what he means when Sue/Lou brings out two plates containing cinnamon rolls that go from edge to edge, all the way around. They’re swimming in icing and sprinkled with pecans.
She sets it down and I ogle it for several seconds. Long enough for drool to collect around my tongue.
“It’s like a small pizza and a Bundt cake had a beautiful cinnamon, cream cheese baby.”
“That’s a visual I won’t soon forget.” Liam cuts a bite of his roll, stabs it with his fork, holds it up, and stares at it long and hard before he sticks it into his mouth.
I dive in, too, carving out an enormous chunk and stuffing it into my mouth. I pause with my cheeks as full as any self-respecting chipmunk, and I moan. “Sweet, sweet Mary.” I don’t even chew for a few seconds. I just let the sugary, spicy decadence sit on my tongue.
When I open my eyes, Liam is gaping at me with his own mouth hanging open just a tad. “What?” I mumble around my gob of food.
“I…I just…I’ve never seen a woman react like that to f
ood.”
Unless I’m mistaken, which I know I’m not, Liam Dunning’s cheeks turn a little rosy under his deep, outdoorsy tan. When I consider why, and what he just said, I giggle-snort around the pastry dissolving in my mouth.
“Did I embarrass you?”
He won’t look up at me. He’s focusing an inordinate amount on his own plate. “No, I just… It took me by surprise. That’s all.”
I can’t keep from grinning as I chew and cut another bite. “I just want you to appreciate the self-control I’m exhibiting right now by not teasing you mercilessly.”
“Self-control? Do you even know what that is?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Says the girl who stole a pig and is currently shoveling mammoth bites of pastry into her mouth.”
“Neither of those was a matter of self-control or lack thereof. I was and am very much in control of the situation.”
“I heard you almost got electrocuted.”
“Having a flawed plan isn’t the same thing as lack of self-control.”
“Your brain…it scares me.”
“As well it should,” I say with a wink as I gobble up another bite. “So, tell me about this accountant. Who would’ve had the best reason for wanting him dead? Besides your dad. Clearly, that man has something to hide.”
“He’s a politician. Of course, he has things to hide. My father probably has more skeletons in his closet than a college anatomy lab.”
Before we can delve any further into the conversation, I hear a voice clear. I turn to find Miss Haddy standing behind me. Malcolm Douglas, too, in one of his purportedly rare daylight, weekday ventures out of…wherever he stays. Probably with Miss Haddy. Maybe she folds him up and sticks him in the closet like an ironing board. He’s not too much bigger than that.
“Good morning, handsome,” she says, half-winking one twinkling eye at Liam.
“Mornin’, Miss Haddy.” His smile is kind and genuine, and makes my stomach flutter around the sixteen pounds of sugar and gluten currently residing there. “You’re looking spry and lovely.”
Miss Haddy blushes prettily under her already rosy cheeks and swats his arm playfully. “You flatter an old woman, but I can assure you, she eats it up.”
She makes an adorable cackling sound. The action moves her belly underneath her lilac-velour jumpsuit jacket.
“Would you like to join us?” Turns out, Liam can actually be charming and polite when he wants to be. Shockingly enough. Maybe he’s more like his father than I gave him credit for.
“Oh, no. I can’t stay. I just wanted to stop by and see if this pretty thing would mind a visitor later this morning.” She turns those eyes on me, and I see the shift immediately. They are no less friendly, but they become intense, her message meaningful. And clear.
I lay my fork down and wipe my mouth. “Yes, of course. I’d love that. I’ll be going straight there shortly, so anytime.”
“That’s just grand, sugar plum. I’ll meet you there in, say, half an hour?”
“Yes, ma’am. That sounds great.”
She smiles and nods at both of us, then turns toward Malcolm who is there to loop his arm through hers. I watch the two wander off, stopping at another booth or two on their way to the door.
When I spin back to face Liam, he’s frowning. Again. As usual.
He exasperates me. “What now?”
The dent between his eyebrows gets even deeper. For a second, I wonder if I stuck a quarter in it, if it would fall out or stay put. I pat my pockets, but they’re empty.
“Wonder what that was about.”
I grab my purse and glance in my wallet. No cash. No coin. Just my driver’s license and debit card. I’ve never been one to use actual money.
“I don’t know, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough.” I start digging through the pockets of my purse, then shift all the contents around to look in the bottom.
“What are you looking for?” Liam growls. “What’s so important?”
My fingers brush a dime. Not ideal, but it’ll work. “Ah-ha!” I declare, holding it up between my pinched thumb and forefinger. “Oh.” His expression has turned even darker. Not good for me, but excellent for my purposes at this particular time. “You look mad. That’s perfect. Hold still.”
I stand up and lean over the table, grabbing Liam’s chin with one hand while I slide the dime into the crater between his eyebrows. I let go carefully and lean away slowly.
“Ha! It worked,” I exclaim as I sit back down.
I smile contentedly as I stare at the dime, which still hasn’t fallen out. That smile dies a slow death, however, when I see the red fury on Liam’s face.
“What. Are you. Doing?” Each syllable is forced out from teeth clenched so tightly I fear he might be in the process of blowing a gasket.
“I was… I saw… Your…” I’m becoming increasingly flustered under the little daggers he’s firing at me. “You’re really good at that angry staring thing.”
Centimeter by centimeter, Liam raises his hand and plucks the dime from the small canyon on his face. He lowers it at the same speed and snaps it down on the table.
“You’re not going to leave that as the tip, are you? Because this cinna—”
“Tell me what Miss Haddy wanted when she leaves.” His words are carefully measured, like he’s trying to stay calm when he really wants to hurt something.
Or someone.
“Okay.” I swallow hard. “Sorry about the,” I say, pointing rather than finishing the sentence.
Liam doesn’t respond. He stands, takes some money from his wallet and lays it on the table, gives me one last look that could at the very least cause spontaneous implosion, if not actually kill. Then he walks off.
I sit for a few seconds, staring at the dime, and then I laugh. I knew that sucker would stick.
4
The walk home is a nice one. Since the humidity hasn’t reached ten thousand percent at this point, the air is warm, but not stifling or suffocating. Several people I haven’t yet met nod and smile as they pass. I do the same. Such a friendly place.
Well, when people aren’t getting murdered.
When I arrive home, there is an ancient hearse parked beside my car in the driveway. A hearse! It’s traditional black and spit-shined to a mirror finish. The tiny curtains that used to conceal a dead body have been replaced with pink-and-yellow floral ones.
Malcolm is behind the wheel and Miss Haddy is in the passenger seat. Mrs. Stephanopoulos is standing by the passenger side with her arms crossed over her chest. It’s so Godfather, it’s not even funny.
I wave as I walk by, continuing to the small covered porch at my front door. I slide my key into the lock just as car doors start opening.
“This is such a beautiful place. It suits you, Lucky,” Miss Haddy says as she makes her way toward me.
I glance around, nodding in agreement. The carriage house is a smaller version of the big house, which Mrs. S. still lives in. They both have clapboard siding painted a cheery yellow, and both have windows galore. My little place has a row of French doors where the carriage doors used to be. I don’t open them often because the bugs would carry me away in the summer months. Besides that, I have too many pets to worry about escaping. Squishy would see that as her cue to fly away and never come back, which might sound like freedom for twenty-five seconds, but then she’d be a homeless, vulnerable, spoiled bird out in the wild, all on her own. She wouldn’t last a day. So those doors stay shut. But the light they let in sure is nice.
I hold the door as Miss Haddy passes. Malcolm stays in the car, but Mrs. S. comes with her. When they’re both inside, I shut the door.
“Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? Water?”
“Oh, none for me. I won’t be staying long,” says Miss Haddy on her way to the living room sofa.
My landlady’s reply is just a step above a grunt. “I have coffee at my house.”
I join them in the living room, and as soon as
I sit down, I’m ambushed by three of my critters. I hear the clatter of Mr. Jingles opening his crate (we have an understanding now about where he needs to stay when I’m out of the house) seconds before he comes charging into the room. On his heels is a snorting pink streak that makes a beeline for my lap. Bringing up the rear is the silky, slinking body of Lucy-fur. She comes and winds in and around my ankles until I reach down and scratch her head.
“My land a livin’, child, what are you doing with all these pests?”
“Pets,” I correct. “They’re pets, not pests. This is Gumbo.” I ruffle my sweet little pig’s head. “And that yipper darting through the dog door is Mr. Jingles, my ninja French bulldog. And this fine lady at my feet is Lucy-fur.” Miss Haddy starts to reach for her, but I stop her. “I’d wait until you know her better. That cat got her name from more than her black coat.”
Miss Haddy slowly retracts her hand. “I guess I needn’t worry about you getting lonely.”
“Nope. I’ve got plenty of family.”
“Does Liam know about this?”
“Yes, why?”
“I think he prefers his animals to stay outside, being a farmer and all.”
“Why would that matter to me?”
“Well, when you two wed—”
I nearly swallow my tongue. “Wed?” I stammer and sputter. “We’re not… He and I don’t… You must be joking.”
“Not at all. He’s our most handsome and eligible bachelor. And you… Well, you’re the beauty that caught his eye. You’d be a fool not to be interested in him.” She leans closer to me, her eyes squinting with her grin. “And I happen to know you’re no fool.”
“I appreciate that, Miss Haddy, but I’m not in the market for a man right now.”
“And why not?” She seriously looks perplexed. Of course, she’s from an era when a twenty-nine-year-old unmarried woman would be doomed to a life of ridicule as a spinster. I have to keep that in mind. She’s probably just looking out for me.
“I don’t have the best of luck with men. That’s just trouble I’d like to avoid. For a while longer at least.”
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”