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Bran chuckled.
“You’ll be fine,” he assured me. “I’m here every morning, but you can meet me two or three times a week, if that works for you.”
“You’re here every morning?” I asked, my face conveying the horror that those words filled me with.
“Sure, gotta change it up, make sure everything gets worked out. I’m not getting any younger.”
Inadvertently, my eyes swept every inch of him. Every inch of Branson Braswell was definitely being worked out. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt me to make more of an effort to get myself into better shape. Sure, I was exhausted and my body would be screaming later, but I actually felt pretty good. Like I’d accomplished something.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Twice a week to start. I’ve got to get some headway on this case.”
“Twice this week, three times next,” Bran countered, ever the lawyer.
I nodded my assent, then said, “Thanks, Bran, I appreciate you helping me out.”
“Anything for a friend,” Bran replied, causing me to smile up at him.
That felt nice. And as I walked away, I wondered whether he’d want to go out with us on our next Ladies’ Night.
After showering and grabbing a smoothie for breakfast, I was feeling surprisingly peppy and ready to take on the world. Sledge had told me everything he knew about Samantha, our victim, and I’d spent the night making notes and looking up names on Google.
There wasn’t a lot of information out there on Samantha Stacker, other than that her parents were deceased, she had a brother who lived twenty minutes away, and she’d been Greenwood High’s Homecoming Queen in 2012.
I drove out to the brother’s apartment, and was told by his landlady that he was currently working at the bagel place around the corner. The apartment building was decaying at best, but as I walked around the corner, the smell of bagels hit me and my stomach rumbled in response.
I guess a smoothie wasn’t enough to hold me over until lunch.
There was a line of people outside of the bagel shop, which could only mean one thing. I was about to have a delicious mid-morning snack.
I got in line, surveying the area behind the tint of my sunglasses as I waited.
It was obviously a popular joint, with people working diligently behind the counter. They made breakfast and lunch sandwiches, and offered an array of bagels with assorted flavors of cream cheese.
“Tony, can you grab some more bags out of the back?”
The name Tony snagged my attention. Sa
mantha’s brother was Anthony Stacker, and when I saw the skinny man with long hair pulled back into a bun, who looked to be about twenty-six, I hoped I’d found my guy.
I watched his movements as I progressed through the line and ordered egg, bacon, and cheese on an everything bagel.
What? I worked out today…
He was a quiet guy, not talking to anyone unless he had to. He seemed to be a filler, or runner of sorts, and I wondered if he was actually a full-time employee or just worked under the table.
As I paid for my bagel, I saw Tony disappear into the back again, so I walked out the door and rounded the building.
“Hey,” I called when I saw Tony smoking back by the dumpster.
Tony looked up, his eyes darting left then right, as if he were about to run or something. He must have deemed I was low threat, because he just shifted on his feet and lifted his chin.
“You Anthony Stacker?” I asked as I moved cautiously closer.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m a PI, and I was hired to look into the death of Samantha Stacker. Was she your sister?”
The look of pain that crossed his face at Samantha’s name told me that I had the right guy.
