Page 36 of A Seer and Present Danger

He frowned and relaxed his fingers one by one.

I had the feeling I had just failed a test.

But I could hear the music in the diner again, could hear the scrape and clatter of cutlery on plates, Buzz crooning in the kitchen.

I hadn’t known those sounds had been missing. Either I’d just had a weird case of nerves, or he’d done something to change my awareness.

Magic?

“No,” he shook his head, the hint of a smile on his mouth. “Not a ghost. How about I ask this: Was there anything unusual at the scene?”

“Other than a dead body?”

He chuckled, and (dang it) I liked the sound of it. “Other than.”

“Nope. Nothing unusual.” I slid out of the booth and pulled my pad out of my apron. “Are you ready to order?”

He studied me, like he was expecting me to say something or do something else. Then he relaxed and picked up the menu. “You have any cherry pie?”

“The best in the state. That do for you?”

One side of his mouth curved up, and it transformed his face. He was younger, his eyes brighter, as if mischief burned so strong inside of him it had to find a way out.

“Well, if all you have is the best, I’ll take a slice. And coffee. Black, please.”

I pretended to write it down and noted he was watching me fake it. It didn’t matter. An order that simple would be easy for anyone to remember.

It didn’t give away that I had already known what he was going to order. Just like I knew he was going to ask for a side of fries.

“And a side,” he said, “of fries.”

“You got it. Be right back.”

I didn’t run to the kitchen because I am not a wimpy scaredy-cat. I took my time, adjusted a chair, and brushed imaginary dust off a table. I scanned the room like it was a royal ball, and I was the queen checking to see if my subjects needed anything (they didn’t). Then I hustled (in a dignified way) to the kitchen.

I pressed my back against the wall and blew out a breath.

“Nat found the good knife,” Buzz said.

“Oh, cool. Great. Real great.”

He glanced over, his eyebrows knitting. “More dead bodies out there?”

I grinned. “No. Just a customer rattling my nerves. I need a slice of cherry and a side of fries.”

“Which one?” Buzz leaned into the pass-through surveying the room. “I’ve never seen a single person shake you up. Which one actually rattled you?”

“The man. Booth by the door.”

Buzz narrowed his eyes and rocked back into the kitchen. “You want me to call the cops? Beat him up?” He wiped his hands on the towel over his shoulder. “Beat him up and then call the cops?”

That made me laugh. “With your bad back? No, I do not want you to rumble.”

“I still got plenty of pop in this rock.” He made a fist and his arm muscles bulged. He was in great shape for a guy in his fifties. But the last thing I needed was him

to get into a dustup with a customer over a couple of questions and an order of pie.

“Pop me a side of fries, will you?” I pushed my hair behind my ears.