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And if I had to bet my last penny on whether Donny was telling me the truth, based solely on his voice and facial expression and body language, I’d say he was.
He’s not the problem. Brock is.
Brock has dropped his gaze to the counter.
“Brock?” I say. “You agree?”
“I’ll echo what Donny just said.” Brock meets my gaze. “We did just say it seems a little strange.”
“Okay.” I could push the issue, but it won’t do me any good. They’re staying quiet.
But I’m betting that both Brock and Donny don’t think it’s strange at all that Ruby would be giving Ava the runaround.
And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.
Ruby seemed genuinely interested in helping us when we met a week ago at the bakery. She said she had apps that could help her decode the message.
I suppose it’s possible that her apps didn’t help.
But this woman is a detective, the best of the best. The Snow Creek sheriff’s office consults with her all the time.
So why would she be putting Ava off?
“Did Ava tell you about the new message that I got?”
Donny keeps his gaze neutral, but Brock’s eyebrows rise.
“No,” Brock says.
“It was another email that got sent to Hardy’s office,” I say. “And at the bottom, instead of just saying Ask the Murphys, it said Ask the Murphys and the Steels.”
“Oh?” Donny says. “Well, we’re Steels. What is the message?”
I pull out the piece of paper containing the hard copy of the email and hand it to Donny.
He scans it, wrinkles his brow, and hands it to Brock.
Brock scans it. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well, you’re both Steels, and so is Ava. So that makes three of you who have no clue what this is about.”
“Not on its face,” Donny says. “But clearly, it’s some kind of code.”
“Right, but a different kind of code from the first message about Darth Morgen,” Brock says.
“Not necessarily,” Donny says. “I mean, if we could crack the Darth Morgen code, assign each letter a different letter, maybe we would find these codes are the same.”
“Right,” I say, “and Ava’s mom, your aunt, said she had decryption programs that could help with that.”
Neither of them says a word.
“You guys have to level with me. I care about your cousin Ava. I care about her a lot.”
“Oh?” Donny’s eyebrows rise.
“Yes.”
“Then what are your intentions?” Donny asks.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize that he’s more interested in throwing me off track than finding out my true intentions regarding Ava.
But I’ll bite. I want to make them comfortable so they might spill some information.
“We’re dating. We like each other. My intentions are good, but I’m not ready to propose to her or anything.”
“Why not?” Brock asks.
“Did you seriously just ask me that?”
“Well, Donny proposed to Callie after only a few weeks. Same with me and Rory.”
I shake my head. “Man, you guys really don’t want to discuss these messages with me, do you?”
“What do you mean by that?” Donny’s voice reeks of feigned innocence.
The guy is good. I’ll give him that.
Brock isn’t nearly as good.
“Ava and I have been on two dates,” I say. “And you know your cousin better than I do. What do you think she would do if I proposed to her?”
That gets them. They both erupt into laughter.
“See what I mean?” I say.
“But your intentions are good,” Brock says.
“Of course they are. I like her. She likes me. She was a little freaked out at the age difference at first, but we’ve gotten past that.”
Neither of them says another word.
“So…what about this new message?” I ask.
“I don’t fucking know.” Brock sighs.
“What does Hardy think?” Donny asks.
“Hardy’s not really involved, other than the fact that the messages are coming through his office. But no threat has been made, so there’s nothing for the police to investigate.”
“True enough,” Donny says. “And if there’s nothing for the police to investigate, there’s definitely nothing for my office to investigate.”
“Look,” I say. “I care about Ava, and she’s a mess right now. Whatever you guys told her messed her up good.”
Brock looks down at the bar again, his lips twisting in a strange way.
Donny, of course, looks completely normal.
“You’re good,” I say to him.
“What do you mean, good?”
“You’re good at keeping your face neutral. Your body language neutral.” I turn to Brock, stifle a chuckle. “Brock, you’re not quite as good.”
“What makes you think you can read people?” Donny asks.
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been a bartender for fifteen years. We’re right up there next to psychiatrists with the ability to read people.”
Brock scoffs. “I’d put my mother’s abilities above yours any day of the week.”
I give him a scoff back. “So would I, Steel. But that’s not my point. I’ve been reading people for fifteen years tending bar, and I’ve gotten pretty damned good at it over the years.”
