Chapter 13
Eight Days Before the Hurricane
Beau left Lemon & Fig with Gemma?
I can’t picture Beau doing that to me. I can’t even picture Gemma doing that to me.
Leaving Polly, I walk back toward the house. The usual soundtrack of our backyard—a blend of lapping water, rustling trees, and chirping crickets—is lost beneath the blare of the last quarter of a college football game on the flat screen by the pool. Through the window, Nora and Marcus are leaning toward each other, talking in the kitchen. Autumn must have gone home—Idon’t see her with them. Outside, Beau and Shep puff on cigars while Tippy perches on a sofa nearby, which means I can’t confront Beau yet. That doesn’t stop me from lingering near the outdoor teak sofa that rounds out the seating area, hoping to capture his attention. But their eyes are glued to the game.
When the broadcast cuts to commercial, the noise dulls for a moment before Kristy Clark fills the screen with a too-bright promise of the news to come. Beau doesn’t look at me.
“As long as there’s no more murder investigation updates,” Tippy murmurs. “Isn’t it getting to be excessive?” She looks around for agreement, and that same expression from the bathroom—the one that hinted she’d like to say more—is back on her face.
When no one responds, Tippy shifts in her chair, and then tries to act like she didn’t.
It would be strange behavior if she wasn’t a little drunk.
I need everyone to get out so I can talk to my husband.
I slip into the kitchen without another word. Autumn left while I was delivering the food to Polly, and Marcus is cleaning the countertops with a towel as the dishwasher runs. I’d tell him to stop, but I know he can’t help himself. Nora’s perched on a stool by the island, but as soon as I step into the room, she hops down.
“I’m going to head out,” she says quickly. “Stuff to do in the morning.”
Marcus starts to say something, then catches my eye and thinks better of it. “See you later, Nora.”
It takes ten more minutes to push—or rather pour—Shep and Tippy out the door. Tippy’s reached the affectionate part of her drunken stupor, and she hugs me for a beat too long before she goes.
When it’s down to Marcus and me, I see my opening. “Did I hear something about security footage behind the restaurant?”
The towel he’s pushing around my countertop stalls, leaving a circle unfinished. After a beat, he looks up. “Not much worth seeing. Shadows, mostly. But…” His jaw flexes. “Knowing it’s the last glimpse of her makes it eerie.”
“Do you still have a copy? Tippy said there was a man on the security video. Polly said it was Beau.”
“Why are you asking? You hate gossip.”
It’s not an answer, and the obfuscation stings. “Gemma and I were friends, but I’m starting to realize there were things I didn’t know about her.”
Like the fact that she emptied out her apartment.
“We all have our secrets,” he says, voice low, too even. His gaze slides past me toward the front door. The headlights of Nora’s car flash through the front of the house as she pulls away. “If it’s eating at you, ask Autumn. She and Gemma talked all the time.”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek. He’s holding something back. I can feel it. The certainty makes my skin prickle.
Marcus sighs and pulls me into a hug. Friendly. Firm. Marcusis Beau’s best friend, and that has always made him like a brother to me. A solid place to land in this strange new world. But now, the hug is cold. Like the energy in our friendship is broken—an outgoing call that never connects.
“I’m sure the police will figure out who did this,” he says as he releases me.
“You mean Ardell?” I pull a face to signal my renewed low confidence in his abilities. “Like he found Will’s killer?”
“Oh, come on. That worked out in the end, right?”
“Yeah, after he almost threw Nora in jail.” And then I add, “Did you know Ardell was there that night? What do you think about the fact that he’s allowed to be on the case when he was fucking there?”
“I don’t know, Este. I’m just the chef.”
This is a cop-out. Marcus doesn’t meddle and he doesn’t gossip. But this is part of his charm, so I don’t press.
Seeing how edgy I am as I walk him out, Marcus gives me one more hug before he goes, leaving me standing in the foyer for longer than I mean to. I’m not sure if one minute or ten has passed when Beau sticks his head out from the kitchen.
