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Beau dug into a second with gusto, saying, “The only online chatter I’ve found comes from a Headliner thread. About two months ago, a group of people began speculating about the Gentleman’s identity. We’ll keep digging and find out who they are.”
“Where and how did they hear about the Gentleman to begin with?”
“Don’t know.” He ate more.
Finally she gathered the courage and took a tentative bite of her boyfriend’s supposed signature dish. Her eyes also widened. You’ve got to be kidding me. Sweet goodness! The decadence!
“Where are you two headed today?” Conrad’s question penetrated her mind but she was too wrapped up in the flavor of perfection.
Jane shoveled in another bite, just to be sure she was tasting what she thought she was tasting. Then she took yet another bite. And another. This was, without a doubt, the most incredible masterpiece to ever grace her mouth.
“I’ll let Jane tell you.” Beau tilted his head as he watched her consume her next bite. “After she stops inhaling her food.”
“What did you put in these, Conrad?” she demanded, licking pure maple syrup from her finger. “Some type of magic elixir?” As his baby blues twinkled delight at her, she remembered his question. “We’re going to speak with Ashley Katz at the Headliner.”
The world’s best chef told her, “I wish you all the best. Barrow questioned her last night but didn’t learn much. She refused to share her sources without a warrant, which he hopes to have by the end of the day. Even then, I suspect she’ll balk.”
Jane smiled sweetly at him. “No problem. I don’t need a warrant to get answers.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Thou shall never let your boyfriend forget to wave to the crowds and flex those biceps.
–Jane Ladling’s Campaign Companion Code
Jane and Beau drove through downtown Aurelian Hills, one of her favorite areas. Her phone beeped, signaling a text. She meant to check the message but got lost in the historical buildings interwoven with modern architecture instead. Old-fashioned light posts lined the streets and the storefront displays advertised winter sales.
Only when her phone buzzed a second time did she snap out of her cozy haze. Jane dug inside her purse. When her gaze snagged on the screen, she groaned.
Tiffinator: So I walked the grounds or whatever. Things look as creepy as always, FYI. When are you coming back? I’m STARVING and without transportation. Oh! I’m happy to watch Rolex. He’s my favorite thing about you.
She heaved a sigh. Because the beast staying in her home spoke so highly of the world’s most perfect feline, Jane would do the unthinkable and loan her the hearse.
Jane: I rode with Beau, so you can drive my car to pick up food. Keys are in my office with a tag that reads LAST RIDE TAXI SERVICE.
A minute passed without a new message.
Tiffinator: 1) I found the key. 2) There’s no way I’m driving that death carriage. 3) I’m guessing the key with the GRADE A MAN MEAT tag is Conrad’s?
Jane: I won’t confirm or deny #3. If you want to be a baby and not drive a perfectly safe and comfortable vehicle, there’s a tater tot casserole in the fridge. Cook it for an hour at 350.
Tiffinator: Like, in an oven?
Oh, sweet goodness.
Jane: Never mind. Order pizza. Just know they refuse to deliver straight to the door. They’ll leave the pie on the benches at the Reflection Center. You can pay online with YOUR credit card.
Jane stored the phone in her handbag and pursed her lips at Beau as he eased into an open parking space at their destination. “I blame you.”
“For what?” he sputtered.
“You know what! Ms. Tiffany Hotchkins!”
He rolled his eyes. “Though I refuse to admit I’ve done anything wrong, I’m happy to help you forget her.” A calculating gleam lit his beautiful green irises. “Valentine’s Day is coming up, and you haven’t bought Conrad a present.”
Eek! “You monster!” This was her first Valentine’s Day with Conrad. How could she have overlooked such an important holiday? Though, yes, even when she’d dated Christopher Wellington, a firefighter who’d dumped her without warning, she had tended to avoid anything romantic.
“See? You’re not thinking about Tiffany.” Beau said with a smirk. “You’re welcome.”
Oh! “What are you getting Sora?” she asked, batting her lashes at him. “Do you need help composing a love sonnet?”
The smirk vanished. “Conrad is right. You really are a brat,” he muttered.
“A label I cherish.”
He slid out of the truck and jogged over to help her out. Wind blew as they motored forward. Jane adjusted the lapels of her coat, then fiddled with the ridiculous beret she now resented.
Well, onward and upward. Chin up, she entered the lobby of Aurelian Hills Media. The building housed three top of the line businesses. The AM station, the community’s new Maker Space, and the Headliner.
Beau strode in behind her, handsome in a Peach State Security polo, khakis and rugged work boots. Like before, the lobby bustled with people and activity. Only now, a combo metal detector and security gate blocked the hallway leading to the various offices. A newly hired guard checked IDs.
