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“Sold!” she said, handing the menu back to the waitress who flashed McKay a dazzling smile before she left.
“In the spirit of transparency, I got a call from Thorn Wilder.” Lori groaned. “Oh, he doesn’t mean anything by it. You’re one of his fiancé’s closest friends. He knew you were here, heard about the murder, which of course Middleton has not classified as murder yet, and wanted me to make sure you knew you had an ally.”
“I take it he holds the same opinion of the detective that you do.”
“As does anyone who’s ever had to spend more than ten minutes with the guy. He’s not the brightest bulb on the holiday tree, and he compounds that with a fairly nasty disposition.”
“I talked to Jess this morning. I was told if Middleton gave me trouble to call you. I got the feeling he thought you’d run interference or call him. I don’t want you to feel obligated. I’m all grown up and come from Chicago.”
“Don’t take offense. Trust me, Thorn didn’t mean anything insulting. He’s just had to deal with Middleton and his like before. They don’t like calling the MCU. Instead of seeing it as helpful and allowing them to do other things, they want to solve the flashy crimes themselves and/or at least take the credit.”
“From what I’ve seen, neither Slade nor Thorn care much for the limelight.”
“Precisely, and that’s what makes them good cops. So, how’d you get into being a mystery novelist?”
“I blame Mary Stewart. When my friends were reading Nancy Drew, I was reading Mary Stewart. I loved her books. A good mystery with a romantic subplot. There were times those books and trying to figure out ‘who done it’ got me through. I’d dreamed of doing it, so when my aunt passed, she left me the money to take a sabbatical from teaching and give it my best shot.”
“From what I can see, it seems like it’s going well.”
“Not bad. I’m going to have to let the school know if I’m going to come back.”
“Which way are you leaning?”
“I thought a lot about that on the train coming out. I can’t imagine going back. I may never make the kind of money Jess makes…”
“Money isn’t everything.”
Lori nodded. “No, it isn’t, and I have loved being a full-time author. I think if I sell my place in Chicago and move somewhere with a cheaper cost of living, I could support myself.”
“No boyfriend pining for you back in Chicago?”
“Hardly,” she snorted. “It’s hard when you’re a teacher, and since I went on sabbatical, I’ve focused all my time and energy on my writing.”
“I can understand that. But all work and no play can make Lori a very lonely girl.”
“Oh, I play; I just have a dormant love life. I’ve never really had a close group of girlfriends I hung out with. Now, even though I live in Chicago, I spend a lot of my time here in Maine, as the other members of the Mystery Writers’ Murder Club live here.”
“Maine is a great place to live, and that’s an interesting group of girlfriends. At some point, I’d love to sit down with the lot of you. You ladies have solved some pretty old crimes…”
“And pissed off a bunch of old cops…”
“True enough, but what I’d like to focus on is the closure you’ve given those victims’ families. Closure they would never have gotten without you. Think about it—the interview, I mean.”
The waitress brought their food. Lori used her knife and fork to take a bit of the ooey-gooey sandwich and moaned. “Oh my god. This is amazing.”
He grinned. “I know, isn’t it? But don’t be fooled. There are a lot of places that advertise it but can’t really make one.”
As they ate, they talked a little about their pasts and got to know one another. She found it interesting that both had come to where they were through an inheritance. Ryker was good company and she felt herself more at ease with him than she had with any other man in a long time. Lori acknowledged to herself that her past experiences with men had not always been the best and had left her wondering if there might ever be someone with whom she could truly share her life.
The waitress came and cleared their dishes, and despite Lori’s protests, Ryker insisted on having both breakfasts put on his tab. Lori argued, and the waitress looked concerned, glancing back and forth between them.
“Just keep in mind,” said Ryker, “Lori’s just visiting. I’m the one who’s coming back to tip you again.”
The waitress grinned. “On your tab it goes, Ryker.”
Lori laughed and stood with Ryker, who held his coat out. “I insist. It’s too damn cold. I was hoping we could run by the dock where you found Cobain. I know you need to get back to the event. I’ll drive you back, and maybe we can meet when you’re done for the day.”
“Won’t you be cold?”
