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Was that the truth about Abigail? A lie? A scheme of some sort? Jane wanted to ask, but she could only wash her hands for so long before things got awkward.
Upon their return, Conrad and Jake ended a discussion about the importance of shading in landscapes. Had he used the one-on-one to learn anything useful? ‘Cause that sounded incredibly boring.
Jake, who’d taken his seat, smiled, jumped up, and helped Tiffany into hers. Conrad did not help Jane. Instead, he remained reclined in a pose of relaxation and arched a brow at her.
She scrunched up her lips to convey her failure.
Two waiters glided into the room to serve the first course. And. Hmm. A platter of slimy rocks?
“Baked snails in a bed of bubbling parmesan, ma’am,” the server explained as he set a plate in front of her.
“My favorite,” Jake said with a wider smile.
“Oh. Um.” Jane tried not to wince. “Thank you?”
There was no question now; these people were absolutely guilty of a crime—the ruination of her appetite. One fake nibble after another, Jane hid the starter in her napkin.
Might as well launch her interrogation while she pretended to eat snails. Snails. “Tell me about yourself, Jake,” she said, stealing a bite of garnish. Something to appease her churning stomach.
“What would you like to know?” the painter asked, giving Tiffany another smile, as if they shared a silent, secret joke.
Hmm. What if the couple wanted her to eat the garnish? There was no other reason to serve snails. For all she knew, that garnish was a poisonous herb. The killer did possess knowledge about gardening and killer plants...
No, no, no. The pair wouldn’t dare to off her here. Not with a special agent in the house. Still, Jane emptied her champagne flute, hoping to dilute any toxin. Wow. Did anything taste better than a peach julep?
“Jane.” Conrad nudged her shoulder. “Did you have a question for Jake?”
Right! “Where are you from?”
Jake dropped his fork with a clatter. On purpose? His lips turned down for the first time, his whole being brimming with melancholy—which sent her internal lie detector on hyper-alert. Needles dancing, ink running off the page. All the while, Tiffany rubbed his shoulder. A gesture of comfort.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t thought of home in years. The last time I was there, I buried my mother.”
“That’s okay, babe.” Tiffany leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Everyone understands.”
Jane swallowed a frustrated huff. With his words, he’d shut down any further questioning along that line. A practiced move or a genuine sentiment?
The wait staff returned to clear their plates before bringing in the second course. A single thumb sized brown cracker with chopped vegetables piled on top of it. “Corn, cucumber and radish tartines,” the server told her.
“Maybe I could have extra?” she asked.
Conrad leaned over to kiss her cheek and murmur, “I’ll feed you afterward.”
New goose bumps spread over one side of her body.
“Speaking of extra… Babe, can I tell them?” Tiffany burst out. “I want to tell them.” She grinned, clapped, and decided not to wait for her fiancé’s reply. But then, he was too busy smiling again. “We’re leaving for Paris on Monday. In three months, we’ll return as Mr. and Mrs. Stephenson.”
What? Monday. The day after Sunday. Which was tomorrow. No, no, no. No! That couldn’t happen. Jane couldn’t lose access to Tiffany and Jake until the conclusion of the investigation. They were prime suspects. Jake, more than ever.
His smile bothered Jane. Like, it never wavered unless you happened to mention his (allegedly) dead mother. That good mood must be fake. No one could be that nice, that often, without secretly killing people in their spare time.
His picture on the white board bothered her, too. And what was with Tiffany’s eagerness to get out of town? Why the rush?
Okay, time to speed the investigation along. “I’m throwing a party,” Jane announced.
“She isn’t,” Conrad said with a shake of his head.
“Oh, but I am.” She rattled off details as they formed inside her head. “Come one, come all. Bring your significant other or find one. That’s the motto. For the party I’m throwing. To celebrate love and also something I did. An accomplishment. Because I discovered gold on my property. Yes! Abigail was right. There were hidden nuggets waiting to be uncovered.” Truth, just not literal. A piece of wisdom equaled a nugget of gold. Something Jane had found at the Garden.
Tiffany appeared skeptical.
So Jane continued. “I’m going to show them off. The nuggets, I mean. They’re big. Huge. The theme is glitz and glamor, and I’ll be auctioning off a nugget as well as a date with my friend Beau. Possibly his three friends.” Her gaze darted to Conrad, who regarded her with a piercing stare that grew more intense as she revealed each new horror. “You’re all invited, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
