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Beckett’s eyebrows shot up. “Not a bad theory. I’ll look into it. In the next day or so, make sure you get us clearance to get on the land where the barn is and any surrounding areas that might pertain to the case.”
“No worries. We will.”
“If we’ve covered everything about the case we need to know for now,” Kelly began, “Beckett and I should get back to the house. Our dogs Brodie and Journey will be wondering where we are.”
“You have a golden retriever and aGerman shepherd husky mix, right? One day last week, I saw you in the park tossing a frisbee—good-looking dogs.Next time, bring them with you,” Brogan urged.
“Really? Ours have huge paws and clunky moves compared to yours. Yours are so well-behaved.”
Brogan tittered with laughter. Her eyes moved in the direction of Stella and Poppy. “We’re a dog-friendly house. Don’t be fooled, though. They aren’t always this well-behaved. I promise we didn’t tranq them before you got here. In fact, it’s time to get these lazy sods moving and out for their nightly walk.”
At the word walk, the dogs rallied. The greyhound stood up first, then Poppy. The two pups stretched and pranced in place.
“See? Just the mention of a walk, and they’re raring to go,” Lucien pointed out, grabbing the dog leashes hanging by the door. “They’re both night owls. Do your dogs get along?”
“Not nearly as good as your dogs do,” Beckett said. “What’s your secret?”
“They took to each other on day one like they’d been best friends forever. Sort of like we did—Lucien and me.”
“That’s so sweet,” Kelly crooned. “How long have you two known each other?”
Brogan took the question seriously. She stared at Lucien before finally answering. “Long enough to know all his secrets. Long enough to finish his sentences.”
“And yet, after all those years, I still can’t read her mind,” Lucien teased. “We’ve been together since childhood.”
Beckett slapped Lucien on the back by way of male bonding. “Therein lies the biggest mystery of them all, something man has strived toward for ages—getting into the female mind, knowing ahead what they’re thinking. You’re not alone. Many have tried. Many have failed.”
Kelly shoved him toward the door. “We’ll discuss mindreading later. Thanks for a lovely evening. We’ll check in tomorrow and compare notes.”
7
The following day, Graeme walked into the kitchen, tame as a pussycat. His bad-tempered night forgotten, everyone seemed to be his new best friend. When he spotted Gavin behind the counter making breakfast, he strolled to the coffee pot and poured himself a mug. “What’s on the menu today, mate? I feel like a full fry-up?”
At the core of a full fry-up—a classic English breakfast—was an oversized platter filled with bangers, also known as fatty sausages, a slab of Irish bacon, fried eggs, baked beans, kippers, mushrooms, potatoes, tomatoes, black and white pudding, fried toast, with an HP brown sauce on the side for dipping.
From the doorway, Lucien could tell Gavin was a bit daunted by the request. He cleared his throat and moved toward the counter. “Dad, what about a niceAmericanbreakfast with a couple of eggs, a side of hash browns, and toast? It’s a lot healthier than a bunch of pork fat.”
Graeme sent his son a warm smile, patting his cheeks before taking a seat at the table, waiting—patient as a priest—for his food. “Ever the good son looking after his da, am I right?”
“I try,” Lucien acknowledged, pushing up the sleeves on the pullover he wore, prepared to get breakfast started. He gave Gavin a wink. “I think I’ve got him covered if you want to work on yours.”
Gavin leaned toward Lucien and whispered, “He doesn’t really want sausage and bacon, does he?”
“No. But he makes a habit of asking for it about four times a week.”
“I can handle the hash browns,” Gavin volunteered.
“Good to know,” Lucien returned as he set out a carton of eggs from the fridge. “Fried eggs, Dad?”
“That’ll do me. No beans on toast, though?”
“I’ll see what I can rustle up.”
While Gavin got busy with the spuds, Lucien dug in the pantry for a can of beans.
Brogan saw him disappear into the walk-in pantry, the same pantry she’d organized over the summer from a jumbled mess to a streamlined storage area. She had serious doubts he’d be able to find what he was looking for, so she stuck her head inside. “Try the shelf second to the end next to the jasmine rice.”
Lucien’s eyes landed on Graeme’s favorite can of beans. “You’re an angel.”
