I never used much foundation makeup, but I brushed on a bit more eye shadow than usual, applied an extra coat of mascara, and finished with lipstick in a light shade of pink that wouldn’t clash with the red jacket. My hair ought to have a permanent crease in it from being up in a ponytail all the time. It didn’t, or the mark didn’t show because my blah-brown hair was just wavy enough to hide it. I wore it down tonight, brushing my shoulder blades. Would Eric mess it up after dinner? I counted on it.
The black-on-black outfit topped with the red jacket was perfect. Since I was tired from several long days and the stairs were steep, I’d carry my black heels for now. Tumbling into Eric’s arms at the end of the date was one thing. Breaking a bone before I ever left the building was another.
“All right, you two, behave and maybe Eric will come up for a while later.”
At Eric’s name, T.C.’s ears twitched and Amber lifted her head and panted. I took that to mean Oh, boy!
Right there with you, Amber. I’d panted around him myself a few times, though I hoped I didn’t sound quite as slavish. I was a lady.
A gentleman should always come to the door to call for his date, or so my mother taught me. That didn’t work in my situation. My apartment could only be accessed from an interior staircase that emptied into Fred’s shop space. I kept the emporium and workroom doors locked when we closed and the Six left for the day. I wasn’t concerned about a break-in for my sake; the business was another story. Aside from the arts and crafts inventory, Fred kept the tools of his fix-it trade in the workroom. They were padlocked in the wall of cabinets, but a bolt cutter would break the locks quick and easy.
So, instead of Eric coming up for me, I met him out back, and I didn’t mind a bit.
I’d just stepped out and locked up when his shiny dark-gray extended-cab truck turned into the alley. He parked, got out to escort me to the passenger seat as he always did, but stopped short and stared.
“You look amazing.”
I grinned. “Thank you, kind sir.”
He stepped closer. “Not that you don’t look great all the time, but, uh, is this a new outfit?”
“Just a few old pieces I’m wearing in a new combination.”
“It works.” He cupped my cheek, and his dreamy voice deepened when he drawled, “Would it be tacky to kiss you in the alley?”
I held his gaze and swayed toward him. “What alley?”
• • •
Yes, my hair was a little mussed, but I finger-combed it into order as Eric drove to Adam Daniel’s. Located on the highway running north to McNeil, the restaurant served a nice variety of meat, fish, and vegetarian meals. Not a swank place by any means, but the food was great. Since we’d had our first official date there, it was a sentimental favorite.
“How is Charlene acclimating to life in Lilyvale?” I asked.
He smiled but kept his eyes on the road. “She’s getting the hang of small-town law enforcement.”
I turned slightly in my seat to see him better in the twilight. “Is it that much different from the Tulsa force?”
“In terms of procedures, no. She’s resigning herself that she’ll be investigating more misdemeanors than felonies.”
“I’d think that would be a good thing.”
“It is, but for someone who worked major crimes, it’s tame.”
“Tame gives her more time with her dad.”
“True.”
“He uses a wheelchair, right? How is he doing?”
“Better. She doesn’t talk about her personal life with me much, but she did say she hired a retired licensed practical nurse and the nurse’s son. They’re from outside Magnolia. The son has had some EMT training, but he’s also been a short-order cook, so they come in on alternate days to make sure he’s had his medications and eats.”
“Did she get her dad to wear the senior alert button?”
He snorted. “Not hardly. The guy is more contrary than the Silver Six put together.”
“You know her dad?”
“Oh, yeah. Mr. Kiddner used to complain about kids cutting through his yard. Looking back on it, I believe he wanted someone to jaw with more than he wanted the kids caught.”
I digested that, thinking about Sherry and the gang. They weren’t all that old, and they weren’t the least bit infirm. Yes, Fred used a walker, but sometimes I wondered how much he really needed it for balance, and how much he just wanted a way to tote more tools around. Of course, Sherry had macular degeneration, but she didn’t let it slow her down. An image of Dab’s tired face floated into focus. Was the sweet man ill?
One thing was sure: I hoped to have my hands full with the sassy Silver Six for years to come. And when they began to fail? I’d deal with whatever came, and perhaps I’d have Eric by my side. The thought flooded me with warmth.
Charlene was a widow and a newcomer still meeting people, never mind making friends, and had no one to lean on. I promised myself to invite her to lunch or dinner. Maybe we could go do dinner and a movie, though we’d have to go to Texarkana or El Dorado to catch a film. Lilyvale didn’t have a theater, and neither did Magnolia.
My stomach growled when we turned into the parking lot and the glow of lights spilling from the huge windows greeted us. The restaurant was cozily set in a clearing surrounded by pine trees, and the outside and inside décor was modern rustic. Not a style I’d want to live with daily, but I had to admit I felt hugged by the warm ambiance when Eric escorted me through the door.
The teenaged hostess wore black pants, a white shirt, and a thousand-watt smile. The place wasn’t more than half full, and she showed us to a table in the far corner, one partly screened by climbing philodendrons and water reeds on steroids. Eric pulled out my chair, then instead of sitting across from me, took the adjacent chair.
Our waiter, who introduced himself as Phil, was also dressed in black pants and a white shirt and apron. He rattled off the specials, and I ordered a petite filet mignon medium well with a house salad and asparagus. Eric went for the fried catfish with a baked potato. We both decided on a glass of wine. Eric also ordered the banana icebox cake, which was part cake, part chocolate and white chocolate mousse, and all rich, creamy goodness.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the waiter said, “but we’re not serving that selection at this time.”
“Why not?” I asked. “It’s wonderful!”
“It’s labor intensive to make,” Phil said. “But you might check with Judy Armistead at Great Buns Bakery. I believe Daniel might have shared the recipe with her. We do have a delicious chocolate cheesecake.”
“We’ll take it,” Eric decided.
Phil hurried away but was back in no time with our glasses of wine. As we sipped, Eric said, “Tell me about the festival. I only saw the booths in passing. Stick with the good stuff, though. I know about the fight.”
“Okay, but I need to know one thing. Is Hamlin still sitting in a cell?”
“Far as I know, yes.”
“He pulled political strings to get into the festival. Can he do the same to get out of jail?”
He heaved a sigh. “I didn’t want to talk about this, but both he and his wife are connected around here, and that’s all I’m saying.”
I did a double take. “Wait. Some woman married him? By choice? Please tell me they didn’t reproduce.”
“No children,” he said on a laugh, “and I don’t think the marriage is good, but I understand Hamlin used to be a better man.”
“Really? How many reincarnations ago was that?”
He shook his head. “Nixy, to answer your question, I don’t know if Hamlin can call on enough clout to get out of jail. Now, let’s drop this and talk about the festival.”
“Want to see the pictures I took?”
While I ate my salad—and he snagged a few bites, too—we huddled together to look at the ph
otos on my cell. I pointed out the artists who’d agreed to have their faces on our website. Most weren’t camera shy, and some hammed it up for their shots. Then I came to the pictures of Cornell and my critters.
Eric smirked. “I thought you didn’t feed T.C. and Amber people food.”
I shrugged. “Cornell offered, and I felt bad about saying no. He didn’t feed them much.”
“Uh-huh.”
When I swiped to the next photo, Lee Durley’s face popped up on the screen. “Huh, I wonder how I got this?”
“What do you mean?”
I explained about the flying cell phone and Amber’s save. “I must’ve accidentally taken the shot.”
Eric peered at the photo, which was a bit too much of a close-up but pretty clear for an accidental shot. “He looks familiar. Is he an artist?”
“No, he said his sister was shopping at the festival. Actually, he did something that struck me as odd.”
“What was that?”
He met my gaze, his expression telling me his cop radar had kicked in, but when I told him about the “pig sooie, go, Razorbacks” fumble, he only chuckled.
“Nixy, sometimes you think more about football than I do.”
“But he was wearing a polo shirt with the team emblem.”
“Maybe his sister bought it for him.”
I conceded that with a shrug. “You said he looked familiar. Does the name Lee Durley help place him?”
He took the phone, enlarged the shot, and angled the screen toward better light. “I’m sure I’ve seen him, but I’m drawing a blank where or when.”
“If you’d met him because he was connected to a crime, you’d probably remember, right? Even if he’d been a witness?”
“Imagine so.”
“Ergo, he’s probably harmless.”
“Right, and here’s our dinner.”
We continued to chat over the meal about the festival’s success. I mentioned we were on for the spring festival, as long as the city, the Chamber of Commerce, and the local businesses supported it. They should. It had been a success. I threw out some ideas to tweak the event, too, the primary one being no food vendors.
“I’m all for having the bake sale again, if the churches want to hold it again. Oh, and the Handcraft Emporium now has three more consignors, but I don’t know where we’re going to put everything. The store is stuffed to the rafters as it is.”
Eric grinned. “I’m sure the Six have a plan. They always do.”
“I’m sure you’re right, and I’ll let them run with it.” I sighed. “Sometimes managing the Six is like herding cats.”
“Speaking of which, shall we go walk T.C. and Amber, and then have some alone time without them?” He gave me a smoldering smile and waggled his brows.
I fluttered my lashes and deepened my Texas-southern accent. “Why, Eric Shoar, whatever are you suggesting?”
“Come on, and I’ll show you.”
Be still my heart.
• • •
The critters loved Eric. He was the one who first spotted them sitting at the emporium’s alley door, and the one who’d bought their food and water bowls, their first bags of kibble, and their matching dog collar, cat harness, and leashes. If they weren’t so well behaved, they would’ve leaped into his arms every time they saw him. As it was, T.C. stretched high on her hind legs to paw at his hip, and Amber ran circles around him, first one way, then the other. As soon as he mentioned “Walk,” Amber raced for the basket where I kept their toys and leashes, trotting back with hers. When I snagged T.C.’s halter, she nearly dove into it.
Had he foisted the animals on me instead of taking them himself? I’d felt that way at first. He’d insisted his schedule was too unpredictable, and splitting them up wasn’t an option. They were inseparable from the time we found them. Besides, he pointed out, the critters had shown up at my door, not his, or anyone else’s. They’d done the same with their former owner, and when she died, they’d quietly slipped away in the chaos of the authorities coming to the woman’s house. As far as we knew, they’d walked from Minden, Louisiana, to Lilyvale. They must’ve had some adventures in their travels, but they weren’t talking.
Well, except for T.C.’s meows and Amber’s eager unh-unh sounds urging us to get a move on.
Tonight in the cool October air, Amber alternately wanted to sniff and prance. T.C. always let the dog set the pace of their walks, but she batted bugs in the daytime. At night, she peered into the dark, occasionally crouching while she waited on Amber.
We were returning to my apartment when a white pickup tore through a stop sign as we prepared to cross the street. I admit, I may have screeched, but Eric stared after the truck, then pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and jotted something on his palm.
“You aren’t going after that yahoo, are you?”
“No, but I’m running his tag,” he said in his cop voice.
“Did you recognize the truck?”
He ran a hand over his short hair. In the light from the streetlamp, the brown took on a reddish hue. “I have to confirm it, but the Hamlins own a similar vehicle.” I must’ve looked stricken, because he added, “But so do at least seven other people in town. One of them is a teen I’ve tangled with over his reckless driving.”
“Either way, somebody’s in trouble,” I said in a singsong voice, aiming to lighten the mood.
Eric shot me a one-brow-arched smirk. “At least it isn’t you. Come on, let’s have coffee. Or something.”
I would not be happy if Hamlin had pulled strings to get out of jail, but Eric effectively distracted me when we arrived back at the apartment. I didn’t even ask him to check on Hamlin’s whereabouts—in jail or not—because, come on. When we kiss, we sizzle.
Making out with pets vying for attention was impossible, so I tucked Amber and T.C. in the bathroom with a handful of treats. Eric and I did a good deal of kissing before Amber began whining and gently scratching at the bathroom door. Maybe it was because I was still relatively new at being a pet mom. Maybe it was because I’d heard horror stories of pets wreaking havoc when they weren’t used to being confined in a room. Bottom line, we released them and let them curl up with us on the sofa. We resettled, me cuddled into Eric’s side, him playing with my hair.
“Have you thought any more about the trip?”
I tilted my head back to look at him. “Quite a lot, but I haven’t mentioned it to the Six yet. I know Mrs. Gilroy would approve, though.”
“Oh? This I have to hear.”
I told him about kicking it up a notch.
“I wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that,” he said, laughing.
“Anyway, I do want to go, but give me a few days before I broach the subject. We need to get the store in order tomorrow and Tuesday.”
“Are you worried about taking time off, or that Miz Sherry Mae and the gang will be scandalized?”
“The scandal aspect. This is a small town and word gets around fast. Let me see how it plays out, okay?”
He brushed my hair back. “I’m not pushing, Nixy. I’d just like to have some extended time with you. Just us. No work. No one looking over our shoulders.”
“Getting away together sounds wonderful.”
“Good. I’ll look into reservations. Say a month from now?”
Four weeks would put us near Thanksgiving, but not too near. Not unless the Six started holiday cooking a heck of a lot earlier than anyone else on the planet.
I nodded. “One way or another, I’m in.”
We spent a little more sizzle time sealing the deal.
• • •
After Eric left, I was, shall we say, a little too stimulated to fall asleep. I hung my date clothes in the closet, washed my face, and donned the bluebonnet nightshirt but then headed for the kitchen. Not that I needed to eat, but I thoug
ht a few crackers would help calm the squiggly feeling in my stomach. Having some chamomile tea from the supply Aster had given me couldn’t hurt either.
Thinking about taking the trip to Eureka Springs with Eric made my heartbeat trip. Okay, so I was on board emotionally. I curled up on the couch with my snack and tea and forced myself to consider the rationality of going.
It was a logical, and probably practical step to test our compatibility, and I didn’t mean sharing a bed. Sure, we’d dated for six months and had often seen each other several times a week. He’d also seen me at about my worst at the picnic. I’d say I sweated a river during the volleyball game, but I’m a southern lady. We dew. Therefore, I’d dewed at least a small stream during that game, and my running mascara had given me raccoon eyes. Never mind the game of tug-of-war when I landed in the mud. Of course, we both had that mud bath, and it hadn’t made him less desirable in my eyes.
We’d gone to Magnolia for dinner, and to El Dorado for a movie or four, but a longer car trip could be a challenge. And, eeks, sharing a bathroom! He might book separate rooms, but I doubted he had that in mind. I wasn’t completely inexperienced in the romance department, but it had been years since I’d been more than a pal to a guy.
This was a huge decision, but when I shoved my fears out of the way, my heart told me to go for it. Eric was a good guy. He’d never rushed me. In fact, I often thought he was a little gun-shy. I never asked why, but I got that vibe.
I finished my crackers and tea, took the napkin and mug to the kitchen, and then headed for bed. With Amber’s warm body on one side, and T.C.’s rumbling purr, I soon conked out.
• • •
The Silver Six had said they’d sleep in and be at the store at ten. The day that crew slept past seven in the morning was the day I’d rush them all to a doctor. I, on the other hand, can be a world-class sleeper when I want to be, but I was up by six fifteen. Probably because I was still charged from my evening with Eric.
Since the Six and I hadn’t had a chance to do a super-deep dusting of the shelves since June, we’d tackle that today before restocking and rearranging displays. My hair was fine in a ponytail, but I saw no point in getting one of my nicer outfits filthy dirty, so I’d elected to wear my work clothes. Frayed jean shorts, a faded, stretched-out tee with decorative paint stains, and ugly brown Crocs. I hoped I didn’t run into any of Sherry’s more refined friends. They’d have a fit and report right back to Sherry.
A Crime of Poison Page 8