At home, I fed Catsy while Vera popped a frozen pizza in the oven. We ate in near silence, and I wasn’t surprised that when we were finished, she asked if I could do the dishes because she felt a migraine coming on.
“Of course I’ll clean up. You get some rest.” I reached for her plate and saw she’d eaten only half a slice. “Don’t worry, OK? We’ll get through this.”
She nodded and padded down the hall to her room. My chest felt heavy as I did the dishes and dodged Catsy as she wound her way around my legs. She seemed to think that whenever I was in the kitchen, it was a free food buffet.
Hoping to take my mind off the homicide investigation and our money woes, I grabbed a new romance novel and headed to the lanai. Vera had hung glass-bulb string lights around the perimeter, and I turned those on. It wasn’t exactly light enough to read, but I loved the twinkling vibe so much that I sat on the daybed, holding the book in my hands and listening to the sound of the cicadas.
When I was about to flick on the lamp on the end table, I saw headlights to the right. The car parked, and I realized it was likely Jack. At least I hoped it was, since we weren’t expecting anyone else.
My first instinct was to wander over and say hello, but I stopped myself. I’d bothered him enough in recent days. He’d been a near-constant companion, and he probably wanted space.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. Hell. I hadn’t even been home two months and everything was a mess. Life in Boston had been orderly. Boring, but orderly. I’d had the same shift for two years, 7 a.m. until 3 p.m. My then-boyfriend and I would go out every Saturday night to listen to a band or see a movie. On Wednesdays we’d eat at our favorite restaurant in Little Italy, and occasionally we’d get a little wild and eat at an Ethiopian restaurant in Cambridge.
There was snow in the winter, and cherry trees in the spring. Ducks in Boston Common and the ebb and flow of college students. It was all nice, pleasant, and tidy.
Somehow, life had been turned upside down the moment I returned to Wahoo. The entire town seemed to be inhabited by chaos Muppets. Frankly, I felt a bit defeated, and had an urge to curl up in a ball on this daybed and never get up again.
There was a rap on the screen door. Jack was standing there, hands in pockets. Tonight, he wore a T-shirt, much to my disappointment.
He grinned. “Hey, you.”
“Hi!” I jumped up and opened the door, acutely aware that he’d used the same two words before kissing me at the wing restaurant.
Catsy came darting in, and Jack walked through the door and reached for the kitten, scooping her up in one big hand.
I waved at the daybed. “Have a seat. Want some wine? Coffee?”
“Nah, I’m good, thanks. I had to run to the store for more printer paper, and when I got back I noticed the lights on and thought I’d come over and say hi. How’s Vera?” He and Catsy sat next to me.
“She has a migraine. She’s taking everything pretty hard. I feel terrible.”
Jack nodded. “I admire how you stick up for your sister. I can’t imagine my brother doing that for me.”
“No?”
“He’s ten years older. We’re not that close.”
I couldn’t imagine life without Vera, and shot Jack a sad smile.
He stroked Catsy’s back, and I wondered when the kitten was going to unleash her tiny murder-mitten claws on his arm. Instead, Catsy reared up and nuzzled his chin with her face. Jack returned her affection with a kiss.
Meanwhile, my insides turned to goo.
“I’ve been thinking about your situation all day.” Somehow, Jack was spared from Catsy’s wrath. She leaped down and pranced away, her fluffy white tail high in the air.
“It’s complicated, that’s for sure.”
“If you were an officer and had to make an arrest right now, who would be your prime suspect?” he asked.
“Oooh.” I bit my lip. “Tough question. Let’s assume the cops don’t know any more than we do.”
“I don’t think they do, according to what Alex Holt told me at the funeral.”
My eyes went wide. “Really?”
He hummed in affirmation.
I wanted to know more about their conversation, but the wheels in my mind turned, lining up all the potential killers. “Interesting. So here are the suspects, at least in my mind. One: Barbie. She’s weird as hell, tried to divorce Gene at least once, and had a random, shirtless dude at her house not long after Gene died.”
