“Seriously?”
I moved through the overgrown brush, leaving Jude clearing his throat and rubbing his neck. Around the side of the cabin, sure enough, I found a small clearing in the back of the haunted shack, where a very nice two-story wooden cabin sat with a porch swing and a small stone path leading to a front door lined with gold and maroon mums.
“What the hell?” Why was this house so nice? And why didn’t they just bulldoze the haunted cabin? A man in a plaid flannel shirt and khakis walked around from the woodshed, carrying a pack of freshly chopped firewood.
“Um, excuse me, can I help you?” he asked me.
“Uh—Dave Simpson?” I asked, uncertain.
“Yes—and who are you?”
“I’m approaching!” shouted Jude from somewhere behind me. “Alert! Alert! I am behind you! Do not attack, I’m—” Jude stopped shouting when he saw Dave.
“Jude?” Dave peered at him quizzically. “Is that you?”
“Hey, Dave,” Jude said, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. He scratched the back of his neck. “Got a minute to talk?”
“Allen Gordon is missing?” Dave asked as we sat down at the small round table in the small, tidy kitchen of his house.
“Kenzie hasn’t seen him for at least twenty-four hours,” Jude said. He glanced at me and back at Dave. “We understand you and Allen Gordon had a fight.”
Dave’s eyes flicked up, suddenly wary.
“You said you wanted to kill him,” I added.
Dave winced. “I say that to him all the time. The old codger never takes it personally.” He studied us. “You sure he hasn’t gone off to his yacht? It would be just like him to run away when things got tough and leave me holding the bag.”
We nodded. “No one has heard from him,” Jude said. “Kenzie thinks the Canceled Killer is involved.”
“Oh,him. I hate that guy,” Dave said, and groaned. “The Canceled Killer has CEOs all over the country shitting their pants.” Dave shook his head. I didn’t blame him. The Canceled Killer loved targeting the C-suite.
“You too?”
“The listeria doesn’t make me look good. But I tried to warn Gordon. Many times. I have the emails.” Dave almost seemed… afraid. He didn’t seem like a killer. He seemed like he was desperate for us to know he shouldn’t be canceled.
“Mind telling us where you were yesterday and today?” I asked.
“At work until midnight. Ask my secretary. And the senior team. I’ve been up sending emails most of the night, working on a PR plan, and I was on the phone with board members abroad to talk about what to do next. And I’ve been trying to find Allen Gordon as much as anyone. He’s been AWOL when we need him most.”
Back in Jude’s Volvo, we sat, staring at the murder cabin.
“So… do you think he had anything to do with Gordon going missing?” Jude asked me.
“I doubt it. The emails and calls would be easy enough to confirm, so I don’t think he’d lie about that.”
“Agreed.” Jude hesitated, glancing at me. “Anywhere else you want to go? I’ve got a full tank of gas.”
I sent him a sidelong glance. “The way you drive, it’ll take us two days to get anywhere.”
Jude laughed a little. “If you punch me in the throat again, it’ll take even longer.”
“I am sorry for that.” I did feel bad.
“You should be. You lied to me. You told me I don’t have a punchable face.” He snuck a sidelong glance at me.
“Technically, I punched you in the throat.” I studied one of my cuticles. “I never said anything about your throat not being punchable.”
Jude laughed again. I liked his laugh. A deep rumbling chuckle, which felt like a hug for my ears.
