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“What’d you get?” Oliver sat up higher and craned his neck to look at the muffin.
“Banana nut.”
“Not the worst.”
“I was hoping for chocolate chip.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Very true.” Demetrius pulled a piece off the top and popped it in his mouth. “Want a bite?”
“No thanks. I already ate my share of cake for the day.”
“It’s a muffin.”
“It’s a tiny little cake, and you know it.”
Demetrius took another bite. “Not that it isn’t always nice to see you, but why are you here?”
Oliver chuckled, then leaned forward over the desk and lowered his voice. “Someone’s drowned out at Parson’s Pond.”
Demetrius suppressed a shudder. “Yeah, three days ago. I told you about this, we found her. It was Claudia Sykes.”
“No, not her.” Oliver leaned in closer, and lowered his voice even more. “This time it was her husband.”
“What?” Demetrius sprayed bits of muffin across the desks. He covered his mouth and mumbled an apology as he finished chewing what was left and swallowed. “Sorry.”
“Pretty gross.” Oliver made a face as he flicked away crumbs.
“Devin Sykes is dead?”
“Yep. Someone found him floating face down in Parson’s Pond this morning. And get this—he was wearing a black suit.”
Demetrius frowned. “What?”
“It’s true. A black suit, like he’d gotten dressed to go to his wife’s funeral but decided to drown himself instead because he felt guilty about killing her.” Oliver raised his eyebrows and sat back. Cody kept his chair low to the floor, however, so all Demetrius could see of him now was his shoulders and up.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does if he killed her and started to feel guilty about it.”
“But… has her funeral even been scheduled yet?”
Oliver shrugged.
Demetrius took a small bite of muffin and chewed a moment. “Where’d you hear this?”
“Where do you think?”
Demetrius nodded. “Eileen.”
“My grandmother has all the connections here in town.”
“And she just moved here a few years ago,” Demetrius said with a sigh. “I’ve lived here my whole life and have to con every last scrap of information out of people.”
“Maybe it’s your process.”
“What’s wrong with my process?”
