“Good job,” I said to Vera. “Has he asked to see you?”
“No, probably because he’s with that brunette.” Her tone was bitter. “But whatever. I’m over him. I should’ve known when he told me he didn’t read books.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes and say,well, duh. “Weeding out men based on reading material is a good litmus test. Remember what John Waters once said: if you go home with somebody and they don’t have books, don’t screw ’em.”
“Why do you have to be so crude?” She finished the smoothie and handed me the bowl and spoon. “Thanks for the dinner. Did you bring some to Jack?”
I shook my head. “I made it for you, not for him. And anyway, he’s in Miami on a quick trip.”
Vera managed a weak smile. “You’re the best. You know that? Even if you’ve been pretending to be a detective for the last couple of weeks and have a mouth that’s fouler than a trucker’s during rush hour on a Monday morning.”
I grinned and squeezed her knee under the covers. “Get some sleep. Things will be OK. I got a good vibe from Alex Holt the other day.”
It was kind of a little white lie, but one I wanted her to believe. Heck, I wanted to believe it as well. “You need to have faith in the universe, Vera. Or a higher power. Or the power of your romance bookstore idea. Have faith in us. Twin power.”
She let out a cute little squeak and snuggled back into her plush bed, covering herself with a couple of pillows.
As I walked out and closed the door, I wished I could believe my own words. I wasn’t normally a risk-taker, and here I was, two months after quitting a stable job to open a new business and start fresh.
We had practically no savings, and who knew if we’d even have customers—or if Vera would be cleared of murder after all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next day was Saturday. I awoke with the sound of the doorbell in my ears. I turned my head to look at my phone.
It was five thirty in the morning.
A surge of panic went through me. Didn’t cops usually make arrests at this hour? Hadn’t I seen a number of early-morning raids on television over the years?
The pounding on the front door echoed again through the house. Wearing only my sleep tank top and shorts, I ran out. My room was closer to the front door than Vera’s, so I wasn’t sure if she could even hear the banging.
I flung the door open and exhaled. It was Jack, with rumpled hair, a wild expression, and (of course) no shirt. He held an iPad in his hand.
“What’s going on? Is everything OK? Is something on fire? It’s five thirty,” I grumbled, then turned to go inside. “I’m not a morning person. Obviously, you are.”
Jack charged past me. “Just drove back from Miami. Left three hours ago, then saw this when I got here and checked my phone. I couldn’t wait any longer. You need to check this out.”
He pushed the iPad into my hands, and a little thrill of satisfaction went through me when I saw his gaze sweep down my body. While rubbing sleep out of my eye, I sank onto the sofa and spotted the website. It was theOrlando Sentinel, the biggest local daily newspaper.
WAHOO CITY COUNCILMAN ARRESTED ON FEDERAL ELECTION CHARGES
I gasped and a slightly colorful swear word slipped out of my mouth. Jack sat in the reclining chair.
“Tyler Carr, a newly elected Wahoo City Council member, was arrested and charged with planting and funding a fake candidate, manipulating results from the May local elections, and illegal campaign finance contributions,”I read aloud. “What a shit stain. I’m going to wake my sister up for this.”
The paper had a photo of Tyler getting into what looked like an unmarked police car. In handcuffs. In the corner of the photo was Alex Holt’s telltale broad frame.
It was probably terrible of me, but I couldn’t help but cackle. I stood and handed Jack the tablet, then ran up the stairs and burst into my sister’s room.
“Get up! You need to read something!” I cried, then tempered my enthusiasm. She probably wouldn’t appreciate me celebrating the fact that her boyfriend (a term I used loosely) had been charged with multiple federal crimes and hauled away by the feds in handcuffs. “Vera, honey, something big has happened. Jack’s here.”
She threw off the covers and looked to the cute white retro-themed clock on her nightstand. “It’s five thirty in the morning. Why is Jack here? What’s wrong? Is it Catsy?”
“Just come out to the living room. We need to show you something.”
She mumbled something about using the bathroom and I swept out of the room, wanting to read more of the story.
From the hall, I could hear Catsy in the living room, yowling. Her schedule was thrown off, and she demanded treats.
