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I keep forgetting the woman is a walking wiretap.
“Stay out of my head.”
“Then stop thinking so loudly about contingencies.” She winks as she says it. “And how’s Delora handling the two of you?”
“She’s been helpful lately. Borderline friendly. Which is somehow more unsettling than when she hated me. At least the hatred was predictable. The friendliness feels like a trap with better manners. She complimented my sweater on Tuesday. I haven’t slept since.”
Bizzy laughs. “The enemy of my enemy is my future mother-in-law?”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
“Why not? You’re clearly serious about him.”
“I’m serious about not screwing this up,” I admit. “My track record isn’t exactly stellar. One failed marriage, two daughters who are still processing the divorce, and a tendency to find dead bodies in inconvenient locations. Not exactly the stuff of romance novels.”
“Josie.” Bizzy turns to face me fully. “You’re smart, funny, running a successful business despite inheriting a money pit, you’ve solved murders when the entire sheriff’s department was scratching their heads, and you can talk to animals. Dexter would be lucky to have you.”
“I think you’re legally obligated to say that as my friend and landlord.”
“I’m legally obligated to charge you rent. The pep talk is complimentary.” She grins. “Also, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That man is gone. Completely smitten. One hundred percent invested.”
“You should put that on the inn’s brochure. Free pep talks with every reservation.”
“Don’t tempt me. I’d charge extra.” She bumps my knee. “Besides, I’ve been married to a detective for years, and they’re not exactly known for their emotional transparency. When Jasper looks at me the way Dexter looks at you, it usually precedes either a marriage proposal or a very expensive piece of jewelry to apologize for forgetting our anniversary.”
“Does Jasper ever mind that you can read his?”
“He says it saves us arguments.” Bizzy laughs into the darkness. “Half the time I don’t even need the telepathy. Jasper’s eyebrows have never kept a secret in their lives.”
“So what you’re saying is, detectives are easy to read.”
“What I’m saying is, marry one and find out.”
I nearly choke on my cider, and she looks far too pleased about it.
Someone said marry, Chip announces from the tide pool. I’d like to formally inquire about the bacon situation at the reception.
“Dexter and I just made things official. There are steps, Bizzy. Stages.”
“Honey, you’re investigating a murder together. At a certain point, that’s more intimate than dinner and a movie.”
She makes an excellent point, Sherlock woofs from his spot in the sand. Nothing says relationship commitment like joint felony investigation.
We’re not committing felonies, Fish protests. We’re pursuing justice.
That’s exactly what a felon would say, Sherlock says.
And for the record, Fish adds, tail flicking, there is exactly one animal detective in this operation, and she is currently sitting beside a tide pool conducting surveillance.
You’re watching a snail, Sherlock points out.
Surveillance, Fish repeats coolly. The snail is a person of interest.
A wave crashes particularly loudly, sending sea spray in our direction. Chip yelps and scurries behind my leg.
The ocean is attacking! he yowls. It’s coming to life and it’s violent!
It’s called a wave, you dramatic furball, Fish says.
