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Silence. She squirmed in her seat.
“Start from the beginning. I want to know every detail concerning both encounters. Waynes-Kirkland and Garcia.” Tension crackled over the line as she explained. When she ended, he heaved a bone-weary sigh. “Do you have plans tonight?”
Imagining him at his desk, leaning back in his chair and scowling, she said, “Are you about to ask me on a real date? Because I might say yes, even though I really, really should say no. And not just because of the case.” How was that for honesty?
“I’ll take that as a no, you have no plans, so I’ll be over at seven. I’ll bring dinner, and you’ll explain this mysterious reason to reject me. Dress comfortably. This isn’t a date, but a training seminar. You’ll be learning how to defend yourself on purpose.”
“I accept your command/request, but don’t bring food,” she said, the words leaving her before she could think things through. “I’ll cook.”
Chapter Ten
SueAnn Pickens
No You Can’t Have My Pecan Pie Recipe.
Plot 422, Garden of Memories
Rain accompanied Jane the entire fifteen-minute drive to the grocery store, where she purchased ingredients to create a delightful meal for Conrad. Just something simple, like she used to cook with Grandma Lily. Chicken-fried steak and scratch gravy. Black-eyed peas. All the greens. Mashed potatoes. Homemade rolls. Cornbread, as well as stuffing. Corn. Sweet potatoes.
Since she didn’t know what kind of pie he preferred, she should probably bake an array. Chess. Pecan. Peach. A cherry cobbler, if she had time. Yeah, she’d definitely have time.
The rain continued to fall until five seconds after she raced inside the house, soaked anew. Rolex greeted her with a soft meow. He perched on top of the couch so she could adore him. After the appropriate amount of fawning, he sauntered away and she wandered into the kitchen. She made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and decided not to phone the clinic and schedule an appointment with Caroline and Emma.
Why give Emma a heads-up? Instead, Jane could pose as a walk-in. A surprise. While there, she would try not to throw up in her mouth each time she wondered how many patients Dr. Hots had banged on the table.
After unloading her groceries and donning an apron, she uploaded today’s photos onto her laptop, then grabbed her investigation notepad and a pen to log her thoughts.
Knowing how to prepare every dish by route, she studied the images, noting the scribbles she both could and couldn’t decipher, names and dates, symbols, maps and coordinates. Writing as she worked, alternating between whisking and dipping and peeling. Hidden in the photos she’d taken at the exhibit lay the explanation for Dr. Hotchkins’s belief that gold filled some of her caskets.
Hmm. Something niggled in the back of her mind. She slid her gaze over everything she’d found worthy enough to be logged in her notebook, hoping an idea would catch—there. The fleur-de-lys symbol continued to draw her attention. What looked like the serious side of a sword and two curved lines forming the hilt.
Was she missing something? According to Conrad, the image was linked to the gold. But how? How?
Jane slid the last pie in the oven, set the timer, then checked the different camera streams. Nothing out of the ordinary. Excellent. An hour till the pie baked and two hours until Conrad’s arrival. Enough time for paperwork, light cleaning and a shower.
As she waited, she compiled her outstanding bills and balanced the accounts, lamenting the lack of extra funds. A little gold would not be amiss right now. Oh, the things she could update at the cemetery. The cottage. The wages she could pay Beau!
The oven’s timer buzzed. She hurried over to pull the pie from the oven, then tidied the kitchen. Finally, with the dishes covered and the table set, she showered. Once dry, she donned a tank top, shorts and tennis shoes, her best workout clothes.
Hair up or down? What would Conrad prefer? Nope. His opinion didn’t matter. Up.
Oh! She’d forgotten to prepare a fresh batch of sweet tea. Where the heck were her manners?
Back to the kitchen she went, tying an apron around her waist. Rolex observed from the counter as Jane boiled water, dipped tea bags and mixed cup after cup of sugar. She had just finished stirring when the doorbell rang. Nervousness and excitement collided.
The excitement struck her as pure foolishness. This wasn’t a date. He had specifically said so. Yes, Conrad had caught feelings for her. Yes, she debated the merits of risking the wrath of the Ladling curse. Yes, she had already forgotten where she’d been going with this. He was here!
She smoothed the ruffle on her apron and made her way to the door, Rolex on her heels. A twist of the knob, a creak of hinges, and a surprising sight greeted her, the fluttering worsening. Conrad, standing next to Beau. The dark-haired bruiser and the blond Viking.
