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Authors: Lynn Cahoon

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Private Investigators, #Cozy

Mission to Murder (8 page)

BOOK: Mission to Murder
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“In your dreams.” I leaned back and closed my eyes, listening to the birds chirp. “Hey, talking about cavemen and their wives, Brenda stopped in the shop this morning.”

“What did you think of her new look?”

My eyes flew open as I glanced at him. “Seriously, leaving Craig was the best thing that ever happened to her. Her eyes were bright, she didn’t look beat down, and she must have lost enough weight to make a second person.”

“Apparently they’d been talking about reconciling.”

“No.” I thought about the difference in the woman I saw this morning and the one who’d left town to get away from Craig. “That would have been stupid. Why would she have even considered coming back?”

“According to Brenda, Craig had changed. They’d been in couples counseling for the last three months. And in front of the counselor, he said the right things. Brenda was doubtful at the beginning, but he knew her weaknesses.” Greg finished his beer, glancing at the cell phone. “I’d sure love to turn this off for the night, but with an ongoing investigation, I’d better not.”

“I know. Duty calls.” I glanced at my foot. “Since I’m on the injured reserve list, does that mean you’ll be making dinner?”

“If clams and grilled tuna with roasted veggies sounds like dinner, I’m game.” He glanced at my beer. “Ready for another?”

“Sure. But I don’t have clams or tuna. We’ll have to go to the store.” I sat forward. “And one of us needs to stay sober to drive.”

“I’ve already taken care of that. I stopped at the farmer’s market on my way here.” He nodded at the empty beer bottle. “Besides, I’m playing designated driver tonight. You, on the other hand, are enjoying yourself.”

As he walked back into the kitchen for a fresh beer for me and a glass of iced tea for himself, I wondered if plying me with liquor was his way of keeping me from asking too many questions.

Then I wondered if this was going to be my last meal before he told me what he’d came to say: that I was still the one and only logical suspect in the murder of Craig Morgan.

CHAPTER 8

D
inner was on the grill and I’d finished off two more beers before Friday’s canceled dinner came up. “What happened out at The Castle last night? You never said who the watchman found.” I said a silent prayer, hoping it wouldn’t be Nick Michael. Sadie hadn’t called, but then again, we didn’t really chat except when she stopped by the shop. I was a bad friend. Tomorrow, I’d call her just to chat. “Or can’t you talk about it?”

If he couldn’t, that would tell me a lot about what action he’d take.

He tossed the peppers, onions, and mushrooms in a grilling basket, then closed the cover, turning the heat down. I smiled. Grilling was like an art to the man. He’d bought me the grill as a housewarming present on our first date. Even though I hadn’t at the time known it was a date.

He took a sip of his tea and leaned against the porch railing, his long legs crossed, still in his signature Wranglers, but instead of boots, he had a pair of sandals on his large feet. “Seriously, that watchman has worked under Craig way too long. The man’s paranoid. The kids snuck onto the property for a quick swim and probably some other extracurricular stuff.” He grinned at me. “Hell, I’d like to go skinny-dipping in that Grecian pool with you some warm summer night.”

“So they weren’t caught stealing?” Relief ran over me. “I’d been afraid—”

“You were afraid a town kid had turned cat burglar and was fencing priceless antiques?” Greg laughed. “Which kid do you suspect? The one who did their Eagle project down at the homeless shelter in San Francisco or the straight A student with a full ride to Harvard next year?”

“I know we have some great kids in town. It’s just that sometimes kids can be led down a path before they even know there’s a problem.” I thought about Nick and his being late for work because he gave his girlfriend a ride.

“I don’t see them as the hooligans Craig and Josh made them out to be. Kids will be kids. You got to let them run free or they’ll do stupid stuff when they get out from under their moms’ thumbs.” Greg ran his hand through his sandy brown hair. He needed a trim, but when he was in the middle of a case, it tended to get longer. I liked it that way.

I watched as he went to check on the fish again. This was our first conversation about our parenting philosophies and even though we hadn’t called it that, we both knew we were trotting on shaky ground. I was anxious to change the subject before I said something I couldn’t take back, but I needed to ask one more question. “Who were the kids?”

Greg turned off the grill and loaded our plates with the fish and clams and veggies. “The guy was Mike Freeland. One of the juniors on the football team. I don’t know if you’ve met him. His folks live out on one of the local orchards where his dad’s a foreman.”

The name sounded familiar, but I doubted I could match the face with the name. I breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been Nick. Sadie would have been heartbroken.

Greg slipped my plate onto one of the vintage TV trays we used outside when we grilled, which was most nights anymore. I’d found them when we’d taken a Saturday to Bakersfield trip and hit the thrift stores. “The girl’s new to town, Lisa Brewer. She works at The Castle and snuck the boy in before closing.”

My heart sank. Sadie wouldn’t be upset at the news, but Nick would be when he found out his “girlfriend” was playing house with Mike. Maybe the upcoming breakup was a good thing. I knew from personal experience, when you’re cheated on, betrayal hits hard, even when you’re better off without the person in your life.

Greg waved his fork at my plate. “You not hungry or something?”

I took a bite of the tuna and sighed. The man could cook. The rest of his attributes aside, like the fact he could kiss the shoes off my feet and his wicked sense of humor, I’d keep him around for his cooking skills alone. “Amazing.”

Greg smiled and bent his head back over his plate. “That’s better. A man likes a little appreciation now and then.”

We ate in silence. Then I brought the subject back up after I’d finished the last clam in my bucket. “Nick Michael is or was dating that girl, Lisa.”

Greg shrugged. “Not my business who’s sleeping with whom. You know that. But I guess by Monday when school starts, the kid will know his girlfriend had a fling. If not before.”

“At least Sadie will be happy if they break up. She thinks the girl is trouble.” I stood and took his plate. “You want a beer now?”

“I’d rather have one of those brownies I saw in your fridge. And maybe some coffee?” He stood and held the door open for me.

“We can make that happen.” I stood on my toes and kissed his lips quickly as I passed.

Greg called for Emma and as he closed the door, I wondered when we’d become this couple. Comfortable in our routines and each other. Both of us were wary of the “m” word, having been married before to people who hadn’t taken their vows of monogamy seriously. And we hadn’t been dating long. But I couldn’t deny we were a couple. A smile curved on my lips.

Greg noticed and came up behind me, putting his arms around my waist. “What are you thinking about?”

I poured water into the coffeemaker and turned the machine on, stalling to think about what I was going to say. Finally, I went with the obvious. “Us.”

He turned me around, leaned in, and kissed me. Long, soft, but urgent. The kiss offered so much more. I reached up and locked my hands around his neck and then heard the bell at the front door. Emma barked and ran to sit in front of the door. I heard her gentle whine.

Pulling away from the kiss, I put my hands on Greg’s chest.

“Do you have to answer that?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Unless you want a call to the police office reporting our lack of response and Toby showing up here.” I smiled and stepped away from him. “She won’t give up.”

“Who?” Greg followed me into the living room.

I swung open the door. “Aunt Jackie.”

My aunt burst into the room and shoved a box into my hands. The good thing about her visits was that she never came empty-handed. The bad thing was it was usually something amazing from the store, so my thoughts of skipping my run tomorrow got revised. I peeked into the box: Chocolate Dream Pie from Pies on the Fly. Kissing my aunt on the cheek, I pointed to the kitchen. “Coffee’s started.”

She glanced at Greg. “Standing Saturday date has turned into making my niece cook once a week?”

He laughed. “Hey, I cooked. And with everything that’s going on, taking off for a real night out isn’t doable right now.” He shrugged, then added, “If it’s any of your business.”

“Everything about my niece is my business,” Jackie grumbled, then walked into the kitchen, expecting us to follow.

“You’ll get used to it.” I grinned, taking Greg’s hand and pulling him into the kitchen. Emma followed my aunt. The dog loved her. I was starting to feel like the dog loved a lot of people more than me, but maybe I was just always there.

Jackie had already poured three cups of coffee, sat out plates and silverware, and was sitting at the table waiting when we walked in. The woman moved fast.

“So what’s up?” I slipped into a chair and removed the pie from the box, handing the empty box to Greg. “Set that on the counter for me.”

He complied before slipping into a chair next to me. He watched as I cut wedges of the pie, sliding a plate filled with the dessert over to him. “Sadie does a mean pie.”

“She came over to the shop with four of these today. Said she’s been unable to sleep lately and wondered if we could take them off her hands.” Jackie took a fork and bit into the slice I’d cut for her.

“Poor thing.” I said, not meaning it after I took a bite, the creamy chocolate dark against the fluffy whipped cream. Sadie needed a few more sleepless nights if this was the result. “She’s probably worried sick about Nick.”

Jackie pointed a fork at Greg. “She’s convinced you’re going to knock on her door, sweep in, and arrest the boy.”

“Why would I arrest Nick? The kid’s a saint.” Greg kept his head down, focusing on the pie.

“Who knows what goes on with that woman?” Jackie smiled at me. “I did get a discount since it was over our normal order.”

Leave it to my aunt to make it seem like an inconvenience to take the offered pies. I would have probably paid Sadie double for the pain and suffering she’d experienced; Jackie, on the other hand, asked for a markdown.

“I’m sure we’ll have no trouble selling these.” I shook my head.

“Not true. We don’t open tomorrow and who knows what shape they’ll be in on Tuesday.” Jackie finished off her pie and leaned back to take a sip of coffee. “But I’m not here to talk about the shop.”

“Really?” Greg drawled. “I figured that would be the only reason to show up late on a Saturday night. Uninvited.”

“Eat another piece of pie and shut up.” Jackie shot back, a smile softening her words.

“As you order.” Greg pulled the pie plate closer and served himself a slice. His phone buzzed. Glancing at the display, he groaned. “Toby. I’ve got to take this.”

He stepped into the living room, taking his pie with him. Smiling, I turned back to Jackie. “So why are you here?”

“I’ve been frantic thinking about going out with Josh. Seriously, could you even imagine us as a couple?” Jackie shook her head.

“You don’t have to date him forever.” I reached over and put my hand on hers. “Just one date. And then he says he’ll show me the evidence against the mission wall.”

“Ted Bundy used to tell people just one date, too. And look how that turned out.” Jackie raised her eyebrows.

I sighed. I needed to know what Josh had, sooner than later. “Look, would it make you feel better if we did a double date? You and Josh and me and Greg?”

Jackie peered at me like I’d solved an advanced algebra problem. “You sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to put you two out from this cozy domestication.”

“I need to know what evidence they have against the wall. I hate to say this, but I’d go out with the man myself if I thought it would help.” I leaned back, pushing the plate away, even though I desperately wanted another slice. My ankle throbbed. What the heck had I run into?

“You’d date who?” Greg turned off his phone and put his arm around me. “Do I need to be worried here?”

Bending my head back, I puckered for a kiss. “Only if you forget my birthday. Or our anniversary. Or Saint Patrick’s Day. I’m a sucker for green food.”

Greg kissed me gently, then took the empty plates off the table and slipped them into the sink. A total keeper. “I’m confused. We have an anniversary? I thought those happened after the whole proposal and marriage thing.”

“We have lots of anniversaries.” I held up my hand and started counting on my fingers. “The day we met, our first date, our first real party together . . .”

Greg laughed and added, “The day you let me get to second base.”

“Whoa, hold on there, way too much information for this old woman.” Jackie finished her coffee and took the cup to the sink, where Greg rinsed and slipped it into the dishwasher along with the plates. “I guess I’ll see the two of you on our double date.”

Greg walked over and got his own cup, filling it from the pot. He held the pot up and with a motion, asked if I wanted more. When I nodded, he walked over and refilled my cup. He glanced down at me. “Do I want to ask?”

My aunt crossed the kitchen and gave me a hug. “You might want to bring the boy up to speed, dear. It’s your party.”

I watched my aunt leave and waited until I heard the front door close behind her. Then I turned and faced Greg. “Josh is blackmailing me. If Jackie goes out with him, he’ll show me the evidence they were going to give the historical commission.”

“I don’t think that’s the legal definition of blackmail.” Greg pulled me to my feet. “You want to watch a movie?”

I nodded, limping to the living room with him. “Can you get me some painkillers from the bathroom?”

“Heavy duty or over the counter?”

“Over the counter. Anything stronger and I’ll be snoring in ten minutes max.” I eased down into the couch.

“So what difference would that be? You usually sleep through our movie nights,” Greg teased.

I threw a couch pillow at him. “Snot.”

“Angel,” he countered.

It’s hard to be mad at a man who calls you names like that.

BOOK: Mission to Murder
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