Better Late Than Never

by Jenn McKinlay

  Lindsey handed Robbie an umbrella she had fished out of lost and found. Together they stepped outside into the windy wet. Lindsey led the way as they trudged down the sidewalk toward Peter’s house.

  A grizzled old man with a perpetual five o’clock shadow, his silver hair was always unkempt and the end of his bulbous nose pulsed with the sort of capillary-busting red only found at the end of many gin bottles. Pete was harmless so long as you didn’t get on his bad side. Lindsey wondered how Matthew Mercer had managed not to do that all these months when he was clearly living a lie.

  She walked through the center of town and then turned on a small side street. At the end of the cul-de-sac, Peter’s house faced Eloise’s in a stare down that could be felt all the way down the street.

  Eloise’s home was an immaculately kept cape, white with a forest green trim, surrounded by a classic picket fence. Purple and white flowers exploded from the front garden beds, while not so much as one stray leaf marred the perfection of the green lawn.

  Across the way, Pete’s place seemed to mock Eloise’s perfection by being an explosion of colorful bushes and trees, all leggy and wild. The lawn was uneven, leaves were scattered across the high grass and odds and ends filled the front porch and the yard. A squashy couch was on the front porch along with a noisy collection of wind chimes. Lindsey was betting the noise drove Eloise batty. And sure enough, at the base of the front steps was the much-maligned toilet.

  Lindsey hurried up the walkway with Robbie at her side. He paused at the base of the steps to study the purple flowers gushing out of the toilet.

  “What sort of statement do you think he’s making with this?” he asked.

  “The sort where he wants his busybody neighbor to mind her own beeswax,” Lindsey said.

  “You got that right!”

  Lindsey and Robbie spun around to see Peter Harwood walking around the corner of the house. He was smoking a cigarette that he paused to stub out on the bottom of his shoe before tucking the butt into the bottom of the petunia pot. He wore a bright yellow raincoat with the hood up.

  “You’re the librarian, right?”

  “That’s me,” Lindsey said. She stepped forward and held out her hand. “This is my . . . associate Robbie Vine.”

  “Good day,” Robbie said and shook Pete’s hand next.

  “You’re the actor.”

  “You’ve heard of me?” Robbie looked flattered.

  “Eloise across the way had a lot to say about your performance in the play last fall. She seemed to think you weren’t committed to your craft, that perhaps you lacked confidence, if you chose to die onstage.”

  Robbie frowned. He glared at the tidy house across the street and then looked back at Peter. “I can get another toilet for your front yard if you need one. We can make it a low flow.”

  Peter busted out a laugh, which quickly rolled into a meaty smoker’s cough. While he hacked, Lindsey and Robbie exchanged concerned looks.

  “I may take you up on that,” Peter wheezed. He gestured for them to follow him up onto the front porch. Wicker chairs were scattered across the narrow area but Peter sat down on the big, squashy sofa that looked more worn than the others. His favorite, Lindsey guessed.

  “What can I do for you?” Peter asked. He pushed the hood back from his face.

  Lindsey closed her umbrella and perched on the edge of her seat. She was edgy and poised to run should there be any sign of Matthew Mercer in the vicinity.

  “We’re looking for the man who is renting a room from you,” Lindsey said.

  Peter gave her a dubious look. “Why? Did he not pay his library fine? Is this guy going to shake the money out of him for you?”

  “Now I’m an enforcer,” Robbie said. “I quite like the sound of that.”

  Lindsey gave him a quelling look. He shrugged.

  “No, nothing like that,” Lindsey said. She wasn’t sure what to say given that she didn’t know what Peter Harwood knew. “How long have you lived in Briar Creek?”

  “All my life,” he said.

  “A native,” Lindsey said. “Well, that does change things.”

  “How?”

  “Because now I know that you know we aren’t here to talk to Brian,” Lindsey said.

  “I do?”

  “Of course you do, mate,” Robbie said. “Because you know we’re actually looking for Matthew Mercer.”

  Peter visibly paled. He swallowed hard and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do,” Lindsey said. “We know that Brian Kelly is Matthew Mercer. We need to find him.”

  “He didn’t kill Candice,” Peter said. He jumped to his feet with his fists balled at his side, looking like he wanted to take a swing at someone.

  “We didn’t say he did,” Robbie said. He rose to face Peter. His voice was deceptively even until it went flat and cold. “Why did you?”

  Lindsey took out her phone and dialed Emma’s direct number. “I’m calling the chief of police. I imagine she’s going to want to talk to you.”

  Peter looked back and forth as if trying to find an escape route.

  “Don’t, just don’t,” Robbie said.

  Peter lowered his head and charged him like a bull. Robbie let out a whoosh of air and dropped to the ground. Lindsey went to grab Peter but he bolted out into the rain. She knew she could chase him or tend Robbie and finish her call to Emma, but she couldn’t do all three. She crouched beside Robbie.

  “Are you all right?” she asked him.

  He was curled up with his knees against his chest, sucking in air like a fish out of water.

  “Lindsey, what’s going on?” Emma’s voice demanded from her phone.

  “Robbie and I are at Peter Harwood’s,” Lindsey said. “You’d better get over here right away.”

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “We found Matthew Mercer,” Lindsey said.

  “Damn it, I told you to butt out,” Emma snapped. “I’ll be right there.”

  The call ended and Lindsey pocketed her phone. She grabbed Robbie by the arm and hauled him into the nearest chair.

  “Scale of one to ten with one being Emma unconscious and ten being Emma volcanic, how much trouble are we in?” Robbie asked.

  “That depends.”

  “Upon?”

  “What’s worse than volcanic?”

  “What were you thinking?” Emma asked. She didn’t wait for an answer but kept pacing across the porch as if she might explode if she stopped moving.

  “We were just taking the flags down,” Lindsey said. She figured the best way to calm Emma down was to let her think this was all just happenstance.

  “But then our investigative powers kicked in,” Robbie said. He stood and planted his hands on his hips as if he were a superhero.

  Lindsey shook her head at him. Emma was not one to be trifled with when she was in a temper.

  “Investigative powers?” Emma rounded on Robbie. She was a head shorter than him but not at all intimidated by his height, good looks, fame or anything else for that matter. “I’m sorry, did I hire you recently? Because I am pretty sure I didn’t, and if I didn’t you have no business chasing down leads in my investigation.”

  “What’s the matter, love?” Robbie asked, leaning in. “Does it really bother you that I am such a natural at this?”

  Emma closed one eye as if warding off a headache. “Is he for real?”

  Lindsey nodded. Yes, Robbie was obviously very proud of himself. What Lindsey found interesting was that he seemed very determined to make Emma see him that way as well. Interesting.

  “Chief, I have the warrant,” Officer Kirkland said. He strode up the walkway with purpose in his stride.

  “Excellent,” Robbie said. He rubbed his hands together, as if eager to search the house.


  “Sit!” Emma barked at him.

  He raised one eyebrow at her, as if amazed by her temerity in talking to him in that tone.

  “No,” he said. “We found Mercer and we tracked him here. I’m going in.”

  “No, you’re not,” Emma said. She glanced at Lindsey, who was still seated. “Neither of you is to set foot in this house. This is now an official police investigation. While I am grateful that you discovered Brian Kelly’s real identity and confirmed that he’s been living here, you are not to do anything further on this case.”

  “Bloody Nora!” Robbie protested.

  “Are you calling me names?” Emma asked. They were still standing nose to nose and she looked like she’d have no problem kicking him in the privates if she felt it was warranted.

  “No, it’s just an expression of . . . outrage,” Robbie said. He must have sensed Emma’s ire, because he turned so that his side was facing her and his privates were protected.

  “Well, can it,” Emma said. “And if you put one toe inside the door of this house, make no mistake: I will shoot it.”

  Emma spun on her heel and stormed the house with Kirkland right behind her. They knocked. No one answered. Not a big surprise. Emma reached for the doorknob and found it unlocked. Pulling out her service revolver as a precaution, she led the way into the house.

  “Hell of a woman,” Robbie muttered. The admiration in his voice was impossible to mistake.

  “It’s about time,” Lindsey said.

  “For what?” He turned reluctantly from the door to face her.

  “For you to figure out that you have the hots for Emma,” Lindsey said.

  “What?” he squawked. “Don’t be daft.”

  “I’m not,” she said. She checked the time on her cell phone. It was fifteen minutes until Sully was supposed to pick her up for their date. She jumped to her feet. “Oh, no, I have to go!”

  “Date with the seahorse?” Robbie asked. His usual disparaging tone was replaced by something else, something without rancor. Lindsey thought it might be acceptance.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “Because you’ve had the look of a woman anticipating seeing the man she’s in love with all day,” he said.

  They stared at each other for a heartbeat and Lindsey smiled. “You seem awfully okay with it.”

  “I’ve come to realize that in my life, Lindsey Norris, you will always have a special place in my heart,” he said.

  “I will?”

  “You will always be the one who got away,” he said. He stepped forward and kissed her forehead. The contact warmed Lindsey all the way down to her toes because she knew that it meant they had turned a corner; that no matter what, Robbie Vine would always be her friend.

  “I like that,” she said.

  “Good.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Stay here and badger information out of the chief until she tells me all,” he said. “It’s quite thrilling, this crime-solving thing.”

  “Some might even say addictive,” Lindsey agreed. “Please be careful and don’t get arrested.”

  “I’m too charming to be incarcerated,” he said. “Now go, and for God’s sake, Norris, put on a short skirt and tight top and bring that man to his knees.”

  Lindsey grinned. “Will do.”

  She didn’t bother to go back to the library to retrieve her bike. She figured she and Sully could pick it up later. But even at a fast jog, it took Lindsey all fifteen minutes to get home. She arrived on the porch sweaty and disheveled after the last of the afternoon’s rain shower had decided to pelt her under her umbrella all the way home.

  Mercifully, Sully’s truck wasn’t there yet. She raced inside and pounded on Nancy’s door. Heathcliff started barking and greeted her with his usual exuberance when Nancy opened the door, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Lindsey, what are you doing here?” Nancy cried.

  Violet popped up behind her. “You’re supposed to have a date!”

  “With my brother!” Mary cried, joining the group. “Do not tell me you called it off. I swear I will have an aneurysm.”

  “What? No!” Lindsey said. “I’m just running late. I was just with Robbie—”

  “What?” Nancy and Mary gasped while Violet frowned.

  “No, not like that,” Lindsey said. “We were following up on a lead— Listen, it’s not important. What is important is that I need to shower and change. Can you stall Sully? He’ll be here any minute.”

  “Of course we can,” Nancy said. The rumble of Sully’s truck sounded outside on the pavement. “We’ve got this! Go!”

  Lindsey turned and bolted up the stairs. She got up three steps before she turned and called, “Violet!”

  Violet appeared in the doorway, “Yes?”

  “I know you wanted Robbie and I to hook up so that he would stay in Briar Creek.”

  Violet sighed. “It was selfish of me. You and Sully are a perfect pair. I am happy for you.”

  “Thank you,” Lindsey said. “But don’t despair. Robbie gave me his blessing tonight to date Sully, and I think it’s because his heart is pulling him in a new direction.”

  Violet clasped her hands together in front of her chest in a hopeful gesture.

  “I don’t want to speak out of turn, but don’t be surprised if you find he has a sudden interest in the criminal justice system.”

  The sound of someone stepping onto the porch made them both jump.

  “Go!” Violet squealed.

  Lindsey did not need to be told twice. She raced up the three flights of stairs with Heathcliff by her side.

  “Come on, buddy. Mama has a date,” she said.

  It was the fastest shower of Lindsey’s life. There was no fighting the humidity, so she defrizzed her long blond curls as best she could but accepted that they were going to run amok whether she liked it or not.

  She took Robbie’s advice and went with her highest heels—a ridiculous pair of forties-style black and white stilettos that she had bought because they were on sale—her shortest charcoal gray pinstripe skirt and a crisp white blouse. It was the sort of outfit that screamed professional, but she wasn’t sure of what.

  She wished she had her purple vest, the one she had loaned to Beth. It always made her feel better and right now she could use a little fabric courage. Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen each other since this morning, maybe it was because everyone in town knew they were together again or maybe it was because she was no longer pushing aside how she truly felt about Sully, but she felt as if tonight was going to be different between them, and it made her nervous.

  She felt as if they had been dancing around each other for months. Robbie was right. It was time to either go big or go home. She had just finished putting on her lipstick when she heard him knock on her door.

  Heathcliff charged the door and Lindsey followed, smoothing her hands over her skirt as she went. Maybe she should change. Maybe they weren’t ready for a big date night. Maybe this was not as big of a deal to him as it was to her. Suddenly, the urge to go into her room and hide was more tempting than reading just one more chapter in a really good book when it was already the wee hours of the morning and she knew she needed to sleep. Yes, the urge was that strong. She shook it off.

  “Here goes,” she said. She blew out a breath and pulled open the door.

  Sully in a suit—a frigging suit—stood there grinning at her.

  “Phew,” he said. “I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”

  “Not a chance,” she said.

  As she stood there taking in the sight of him—really, how had she never guessed how good he’d look in a suit?—he took a bouquet of red roses from behind his back and held it out to her.

  “Thank you. They’re lovely,” she said. She brea
thed in their scent and smiled at him.

  “I stopped by the flower shop on my way here,” he said. “I told Kelsey at the counter that I was coming here, so the news that we are out on an official date should have circulated through town”—he paused and glanced at the watch on his wrist before adding—“about thirty minutes ago.”

  “So, we’re officially a thing?” she asked.

  She took the roses and led the way inside. He caught her hand in his when she would have disappeared into the kitchen for a vase and pulled her back to him. Then he kissed her with a thoroughness that left her breathless and made her ears ring.

  “Officially a thing,” he said. He seemed content just to stand with his hands on her hips, holding her close, breathing her in. “Darlin’, you look stunning.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “You look pretty wow yourself.”

  He grinned. Done with being ignored, Heathcliff joined the huddle and Sully let go of Lindsey so he could crouch down and scratch the dog’s ears.

  Lindsey continued on her way to the kitchen and grabbed a vase off of the shelf.

  “Speaking of rumors, I heard Emma was investigating Peter Harwood’s house this afternoon,” he said.

  “I can verify that,” Lindsey said. She filled the vase and then took the roses out of their paper wrapper and put them inside. She glanced at him across the narrow counter and said, “Because Robbie and I were the ones to call her when we figured out that Peter’s tenant Brian Kelly is actually Matthew Mercer.”

  Sully opened his mouth to speak but then shook his head. “How did you figure that out?”

  “That’s the weird part,” Lindsey said. “I have a feeling he wanted us to figure it out. I was quoting a poem about unrequited love to Robbie—”

  Sully ran a hand over his face as he sank onto a stool at the counter. “Maybe we should have drinks while we have this conversation.”

  Lindsey laughed. “Here, let me ease your mind. Robbie is okay with us. In fact, he was the one who recommended that I wear my shortest skirt.”

  Sully sat up straighter. “Huh, I may actually become fond of the overactor.”