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Dead to Rites

Page 42

by Christine Pope

The street was very quiet. A few lights shone inside the house because I’d left them on, but everything over at Doreen’s seemed dark. That didn’t surprise me too much; two weeks of living next door to her had already taught me that she was an up-at-six, in-bed-by-nine kind of person.

Adam and I paused at the front door. My insides felt sort of fluttery and excited, but I didn’t know if that was from the caffeine and sugar or because he was standing a little closer than I’d expected.

A moment passed while we gazed at each other. Part of me wanted to tilt my face up toward him, to invite a kiss, and part of me wasn’t sure if that was such a good idea. I had a lot going on right now, and jumping into a romantic relationship might have been adding one too many irons to the fire.

And oddly, I saw a flash of Jude Marsh in my mind, of those unsettling hazel eyes fixed on mine as he said we could talk about his leaving the church some other time, as if it was a foregone conclusion that our orbits would keep intersecting.

I didn’t know what my face did then. Adam must have seen something, though, some trace of hesitation, because he shifted away from me ever so slightly.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We can take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before I could respond, he flashed me a smile and then headed down the porch steps. A moment later, he was starting up his Nissan Frontier and pulling away from the curb, the taillights disappearing as he turned down the first cross street.

I stood there for a moment in the darkness, frowning.

Why hadn’t I let him kiss me? It wasn’t as if I had some rule about not kissing on the first date. Kind of the opposite, to be perfectly honest, although I didn’t really want to dwell on the mistakes of the past.

But it was cold, and Chauncey was inside, waiting for me. I unlocked the front door and let myself in, and he came running over on his stubby little legs, tail wagging, so I bent down to pet him.

When I straightened, I saw Hazel standing in the entrance to the parlor.

“Well?” she said.

“He’s lovely,” I replied, because he was. Only an idiot would have been thinking about Jude Marsh when she had someone as delectable as Adam Emerson standing right in front of her.

“Yes, he is,” she agreed. “And?”

“And nothing,” I told her. “We had dinner, and we talked. That’s all.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I had no real response to that non-reply, so I only shrugged and said, “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”

Hazel still seemed more amused than anything. “Yes, you will.”

I was just unzipping the dress I’d worn for dinner when my phone started buzzing inside my purse, which I’d dropped on the dresser when I came in the room. Usually, it had the Munsters theme for the ringtone, but I’d turned it on vibrate for dinner and hadn’t remembered to put it back.

By then, it was nearly ten-thirty, and I knew no one would have been calling unless it was an emergency. Was Celeste having some sort of crisis? Had Deirdre’s psycho boyfriend shown up at her apartment, wanting his girlfriend back?

Even if he had, though, I knew Celeste would have called the police, not me. This wasn’t her first rodeo when it came to dealing with the guy she affectionately referred to as Jack the Ripper.

The number I saw on the screen was Roz’s, though, not Celeste’s.

Before I could speak, Roz said, “The bar’s silent alarm just went off. I already called the police, and I’m on my way over there now. I think you should come, too.”

What the hell was going on now? We never kept enough money in the building to make it worth breaking into, and although I supposed the cases of wine might be valuable to some people, they weren’t exactly the most portable things in the world.

But I’d worry about all that later. Right now, Roz just needed me at the bar.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I promised her.

“Thanks.”

She ended the call, and I dropped the phone back into my purse and hurriedly finished peeling myself out of my dress so I could throw on my black jeans, boots, and an oversized tunic sweater that I usually reserved for lying around the house. I already had on a full face of makeup, and my hair was done as well, so at least I didn’t have to worry about that.

I flew out the back door, ignoring Chauncey’s inquiring gaze — Hazel was nowhere to be seen — and ran to the garage. The Mercedes seemed the wiser choice for this trip, and I got behind the wheel and then backed out.

The streets weren’t busy at that hour, so it took me about three minutes to get to Copper State Cellars and park in the alley. Two cop cars and a plain black sedan were already there, telling me the police had gotten on scene quickly.