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“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing in Timberline?”
Dax paused, a piece of bacon dangling from a pair of tongs over the sizzling frying pan. He dropped the bacon onto a plate covered with a paper towel. “Thought I told you, bro. Wanted to check out the old man’s place.”
Jim grunted and then dug into his food.
Scarlett planted her elbows on the counter. “Do you mind if I ask you a question, Dax?”
“Shoot.”
“What were you in prison for?”
“A few things. I don’t even remember anymore.”
Jim raised his fork in the air. “Try armed robbery, possession of narcotics with the intent to sell.”
“Oh, yeah. Never intended to use that gun.”
“Because you led such a peaceful existence otherwise.”
Dax ducked his head in the fridge. “Motorcycle club business.”
“Doesn’t excuse it.”
“Okay, sorry I asked. I didn’t mean to stir up trouble.” Scarlett aimed her fork at Jim. “Have the investigators from the fire department been around yet?”
“No.” Jim glanced at his brother. “Have they?”
“I wasn’t up much earlier than you, but I didn’t hear anything.”
Scarlett plucked at the T-shirt. “I’d really like to get back into my place and at least pick up some clothes if they won’t let me stay there.”
“I think they’ll let you back in.” Jim broke a piece of bacon in two and popped one half in his mouth. “The fire didn’t reach the cabin. The fire department may have soaked your roof and if you had any leaks, you might be in trouble, but I didn’t see any damage to your cabin.”
“It’s been raining on and off since I’ve been back. I know I don’t have any leaks.” She spread her arms. “Not like the Kennedy brothers haven’t offered me first-class hospitality.”
Dax chuckled and then whistled an unidentifiable tune as he piled his plate with food. He brought it to the small kitchen table, stationed near a sliding door that led to a small patio decorated with a rusted barbecue and a dead plant.
“If Scarlett’s going back to her place, can I bunk here, J.T.?”
“Are you into anything illegal? Weapons? Drugs? Pimping?”
Scarlett swallowed her orange juice the wrong way and coughed. Her rising opinion of Dax had just taken a nosedive.
“Hey, hey.” Dax leveled his fork at Jim. “I never ran the girls.”
“Whatever. If you’re running anything, hit the road. You can’t stay here.”
“Scout’s honor.” Dax held up two fingers. “I’m clean. Even gave up the drugs and booze.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I gave up the drugs and the hard drinking. I can handle a beer or two. I got a woman in Seattle now. Belinda won’t put up with that stuff.”
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Jim strode to the door. He peered through the peephole. “Looks like the arson investigators.”
He opened the door to two men in suits, and Scarlett tugged her T-shirt below her knees.
How much more uncomfortable could this get?
Jim shook hands with them and invited them inside. “This is Scarlett Easton. The fire was at her place. Scarlett, this is Investigator Young and Investigator Elgin.”
“Excuse me for not getting up, but I ran outside in my pajamas last night and all my clothes are at my house.”
“We just have a few questions, Ms. Easton.”
Jim gestured toward Dax, still stuffing his face. “This is my brother and he was just leaving.”
Jim grabbed a key chain from a hook in the kitchen and tossed it to Dax. “Have a look at those bikes in the garage. Let me know what you want to keep and what we can sell, and be on the lookout for the cops. They’re coming to dust for prints around the garage—had a break-in earlier.”
“Great, cops.” Dax stacked up all their dishes and dumped them into the sink. “I’m outta here.”
Scarlett stayed where she was at the counter, while Jim sat at the kitchen table with the two investigators.
They asked questions about any noises she may have heard—none—and any other unusual activity around her place.
