Stiff in the Sand Page 8

  “Okay, okay, forget I asked.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a rueful grin. “You’re tough.”

  “I know. Now. The pictures.”

  “Is there anyplace a little more private where we might look at them? I doubt the café is the best option, what with all the hearing aids set to top volume and everything.”

  “Good point. I’d say the library, but the head librarian is one of Mom’s best friends and my godmother, on top of that. And she’s also super into real-life murder mysteries. She’s thinking about starting a podcast and everything.” I was rambling again and knew I was rambling again and needed to stop myself.

  So what did I do? Simple. I came up with the worst idea I’d ever had. “Maybe my apartment?”

  I went cold inside the second I said it. What was I thinking? Would he take it the wrong way?

  Shoot. Had I left any underwear lying around?

  “Okay,” he agreed. “Lead the way.”

  Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You’re sure your mom won’t mind my stealing you away?” Deke cast an amused glance through the plate glass window, obviously noting the bustling crowd inside the café. And they certainly noticed him right back.

  I had only gone in to get my purse and phone—sure enough, I had three missed calls from Dad—and was still psyching myself up for a trip to the apartment, where I hoped most fervently that I hadn’t done anything to unwittingly humiliate myself before leaving that morning.

  “I promised I wouldn’t be gone for long,” I explained. It was better not to mention the fact that my mother would in fact not mind him stealing me away at all. Granted, her idea of him stealing me away was a lot different than his idea.

  She wouldn’t mind if he swept me off my feet and carried me away into the sunset. Especially if she knew he came from a wealthy family, which at that point she did not. Because technically, I wasn’t supposed to know, either.

  I kept my inner thoughts to myself. “Besides,” I continued as we started off down the street, “she has running the place down to a science. So long as I’m there first thing in the morning to help bake anything that needs baking, she’s pretty much good after that. Sometimes, I think she would rather be on her own. Darcy and I only get in the way.”

  He chuckled, a wry grin lighting up his face. “I guess there’s something to be said for autonomy, but not when it leaves a person unable to accept help.”

  “You’re describing my mother to a T,” I chuckled. “She’s someone who would cut off her nose to spite her face when it comes to her business. Granted, she’s a great person. Everybody loves her. I look up to her, the way anybody would. But she’s just so darn stubborn.”

  “The apple most certainly did not fall far from the tree.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That is the second time you said something like that to me.”

  “You can’t pretend you don’t know how stubborn you are. I mean, honestly. Let’s be serious. Your dad made a good point in the bookstore, you know. But I very much got the impression that you disregarded it the moment he was out of your presence, the way a stubborn person would.”

  “What point would that be?” There I was, thinking I could give him a tour of Main Street and regale him with stories of how I’d picked out my prom dress at the bridal shop across from the café, and how I’d once fallen and split my lip in front of the ice cream parlor down on the corner.

  Granted, I would’ve left out the part where I’d cried more about dropping my ice cream than I had about any pain in my lip. Although knowing him, he probably would’ve inferred it without my saying a word.

  “You know what point that would be. The point where he asked you to keep your nose out of this investigation. He’s right. Somebody out there was desperate enough to kill a man in cold blood. Anybody might’ve come by at any point that night. There were hundreds of people milling around inside the dining room, in the resort. That was a tremendous chance to take. What leads you to believe they wouldn’t continue being just that desperate if they knew you were closing in on them?”

  “I don’t intend to be stupid enough to let them know I’m on to them,” I grumbled. “What bothers me the most about this is the sense that the police went with the lowest common denominator when searching for this killer. Because you’re right. It was a tremendous chance. And while there might have been hundreds of people there, how many people had access to the kitchen? So that rules out a great number of people. Of course, they’re going to blame the person the knife belonged to, whose fingerprints were all over it and who’d just had an argument with James earlier in the evening. Why? Because it’s easy, because it all fits on the surface. And because they don’t know him.”

  “Neither do you.” He eyed me warily. In fact, he might’ve taken a step further away from me after he said that, like he was waiting for me to lash out. Little did he know how wary I was to lash out in public, especially on a Sunday morning when it seemed like half the town was out taking their morning walk.

  Most especially on such a gorgeous day. The air was so fresh, the breeze coming off the ocean and spreading the scent of salt over the town. No matter where I went in life, the smell of salt air would always mean home.

  “I know he’s a good person,” I announced, and I meant it with all my heart.

  “You said it yourself, you knew each other when you were sixteen. When was that? Ten years ago?”

  “Pretty much,” I admitted against my will.

  “A great deal can change in ten years. Especially formative years like that particular decade. Be honest with yourself. You don’t know who he changed into, or what he went through. I know he’s traveled the world in his studies.”

  “Yes, I know that, too. He went to Paris, Naples. He studied in New York and LA. I know this.”

  “He’s lived a lot of life. It’s one thing to meet up with somebody after a decade and kiss each other on the cheek and compliment each other. It’s another to really know someone.”

  I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I came to a stop at the corner, pretty much in the very spot where I’d had the unfortunate lip splitting incident, and turned to him. “Do you think he did it? Straight talk. Do you think it was him?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “Spoken like somebody who thinks he’s guilty.” I wished I didn’t feel so disappointed. Since when did his opinion matter? He was probably one of the rudest people I’d ever known. Definitely not somebody whose opinion would matter under any other circumstances.

  So why was I overcome with the desire to stomp my feet and pout? Why did his opinion make me feel so sad?

  He shrugged. “I just think it would be best for us to keep an open mind. That’s really all I’m concerned with. For us to keep an open mind in this.”

  I crossed the street, giving him no choice but to follow at a trot. “Okay. Let’s say he did, even though I know he didn’t. Let’s just say for the sake of argument that he did.” I stared straight ahead, rather than confessing how I used to dream of living in one of the sprawling, colorful gingerbread Victorians we passed. Homes with such grace, such grandeur, such history.

  One of my favorite times of year was Christmas. For obvious reasons, of course, but especially because many of the historic homes were decorated inside and out in preparation for walking tours which always drew hundreds of people at a time.

  Instead of sharing this—which I wanted to, for some reason—I felt the need to defend Robbie. “Why would he kill his business partner on the night of the opening? Why, when he put so much work into building this restaurant? The restaurant won’t exist by itself, I imagine. It’s attached to a hotel. James was the hotel part. Why would he jeopardize everything he’d worked for?”

  “That’s a good question. And definitely why I can’t say for sure whether or not I think he did it. That’s how you have to think about this,” he reminded me. “Not with your emotions. With facts. The fact is, t
hey had a lot riding on such a huge project, and obviously murdering his partner would put that in jeopardy. That’s a lot easier for me to hang my hopes on than the fact that he was a good kid ten years ago.”

  “And a pretty good kisser, too.” I glanced his way from the corner of my eye and noted his pained expression.

  “It was your first kiss. How would you have known any better?”

  “I’ve been kissed since then, thank you very much. I know what I’m talking about.” This was devolving rapidly. “Okay. So he had too much riding on this to risk it all by killing James. Let’s put him aside as a suspect. Who else should we be looking at? That sous chef. I would give my right arm for the chance to talk to him.”

  “I’m sure the police have already questioned him five ways from Sunday.”

  “That’s great, but I haven’t. And I was there in the kitchen. I saw how humiliated he was. James could really turn it on and off, you know? One of those people who could be just as sweet as pie on the surface, but who had a nasty streak a mile wide.”

  “We also know he was a scam artist, and maybe a thief.”

  “Fine. But again, what are the odds that one of his angry contractors or jilted business partners were present at the event?”

  “You realize you’re turning suspicion back toward Chef Robert, don’t you?”

  I was just opening my mouth to argue when a familiar voice called out across the street. “Yoo-hoo! Emma!”

  I turned with a smile to find my Auntie Nell sweeping the sidewalk in front of the library. No matter how many times my mother reminded her that the town provided such services and her tax dollars paid for those services, Nell McGinty couldn’t be persuaded to let anybody else take care of something she could just as easily do herself.

  “Hi, good morning! That’s such a pretty blouse!” And it was pretty, a fluffy pink blouse with puffy sleeves and a Peter Pan collar. She had long since chosen to ignore the adage that redheads weren’t supposed to wear pink.

  “Thank you! I’ve been meaning to check up on you after talking with your mom.” Naturally, even though she spoke with me, her gaze kept drifting over to Deke. I could just imagine the questions she would pepper Mom with the minute she managed to get her alone.

  Or, knowing the two of them, they wouldn’t be alone. They would have an audience. An audience who would then take gossip home, or to their friends.

  “Everything’s fine, no worries! See you on Tuesday night?”

  She nodded, giving a thumbs up before returning to her sweeping. Though I didn’t know how productive she thought she’d be when she couldn’t stop staring at Deke.

  “And that was…?” he asked once we were on our way again.

  I slapped my forehead. “I forgot to introduce you. Though I’ve never been one to enjoy shouting introductions across the street. That was my Auntie Nell. One of Mom’s best friends, she runs the library. The one I told you wants to start her own true crime podcast.”

  He snorted. “That’s pretty progressive for a lady of her age. And what about Tuesday night?”

  “Is this an interview?” I teased. “Tuesday night’s Book Club night. My sister picks the books, of course, since she always knows the best new releases. It’s usually us and a few of the other ladies from town. Some of Darcy’s regular customers, some of Nell’s patrons.”

  Instead of smiling or at least patronizing me, I found him frowning.

  I frowned back, shrugging. “What?”

  “You’re not going to be happy if I ask what I wanted to ask.”

  “You know I can’t let you get away with that. Now I have to know what you had in mind.”

  “You asked for it.” He drew a deep breath. “Do you have any friends your own age around here? It seems like everyone we met today is either related to you or roughly your mother’s age—or older. What about young friends? Is there any sort of social scene around here?”

  Why that made me so defensive, I didn’t know. But then I hardly took the time to examine my feelings, either. “What are you trying to say? I didn’t ask you to come down here to throw shade at my life. If you must know, I’ll tell you the truth. But only because we’re coming up to my apartment on the next block and I’d like to get this out of the way before we go back to talking over what’s really important right now.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yes, there are young people around here. More once the summer tourists start coming in, but of course, they aren’t the sort of people you become close friends with, if you know what I mean. They come and they go. But this isn’t a party town, as you can see. In a lot of ways, it’s sort of frozen in time. And a lot of the people who live here have lived here their entire lives, the way I have. They’re my friends. I’ve known them since I was born. But it just so happens that right now, I’m also in sort of a transitional phase. The friends my age I’ve managed to maintain since moving back here after college are kind of in limbo right now.”

  “Limbo? Why?”

  “Because I had a bad breakup recently, and I think everybody’s maintaining their distance until things blow over. He still lives here in town, he moved in with his new girlfriend or whatever. At least they’re on the other side of town, but still. Things are a little uncomfortable right now. My friends checked in on me, but they had their own lives to live, too. It’s better for me to have a little time to breathe, some space and a chance to think.”

  “Now I feel like the world’s biggest idiot for asking such a personal question.”

  We came to a stop in front of the pizza shop, and I turned to look up at him. Backlit by the sun, it looked like he had a halo around his head. I knew he was anything but an angel, but there was no ignoring the effect. “I agree. You are an idiot. But not the world’s biggest. And now, you owe me one.”

  “I owe you one?”

  “Yup. When I feel like it, I’m going to start asking questions about you. You already practically know my life story. But I don’t know the first thing about yours.” I turned to the door, pulling it open. “So brace yourself.”

  “Something tells me that spending time with you requires bracing oneself regardless.” He chuckled, following me up the stairs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Would you like some coffee? Since I didn’t exactly give you the chance to finish what you had at the cafe?” As I spoke, I cast a nervous glance around the apartment. It didn’t look like anything was too terribly out of place—not too embarrassing. If he’d been there a week earlier, he would’ve been in for a far different look into my life.

  One involving pizza boxes and tissue boxes and even boxed wine. Lots of boxes.

  “Yes, please.” He set up his laptop on the dining room table. “This is a nice apartment.”

  “I love it. I really do. Even with the pizza shop downstairs. If anything, that’s just convenient. I’m lucky he serves such a great slice.”

  “There’s nothing like pizza from the shore,” Deke agreed.

  “Have you spent a lot of time at the shore, then?” Yes, it was time for me to learn little bit about him. He had already managed to interview the daylights out of me, and I had pretty much opened up the vaults and let my entire life history pour out.

  “Around as much as anyone who grows up in this area.”

  “So you grew up around here?”

  “Closer to New York. But of course, it wasn’t summer without a trip to the shore.”

  “But the North Jersey shore is completely different than South Jersey. They’re like two different worlds.”

  “Oh, so you’re a shore snob?”

  “Damn straight!”

  He laughed. “Point taken. For what it’s worth, I like the pizza better down here than I do up there. But I’m pretty sure I would have my New York credentials stripped if anybody found out about that, so that’ll have to be a secret between the two of us.”

  I placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of him and winked. “Your secret is safe with me.” What the heck was
happening? Here I was, making jokes and being all relaxed and normal with this guy. It was like I had stepped into an alternate universe where things like this actually happened. Where people sat down on a Sunday morning over coffee and enjoyed each other’s company.

  That was something Landon and I hadn’t done much of. He was always either working or watching TV or out with friends. And I was either cooking or taking pictures of my food or blogging or helping at the café.

  I pushed those memories aside since they didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was Robbie, proving him innocent. Now I felt like I had to prove myself to Deke, as well. I wanted him to know my instincts were on the money.

  I pulled up a chair beside him as he opened the folder containing his pictures. “Here,” he offered, turning the laptop to face me. “I don’t really need to look over them again. I spent a lot of time yesterday poring over them, from the first to the last.”

  I had to admit—if only to myself—that he knew how to set up a shot. His eye was impeccable.

  “That’s beautiful,” I marveled at one of his photos, taken before anybody had entered the dining room. The last amber beams of light flooded through the windows surrounding the room, turning the white chairs and floor and walls to gold. It was absolutely breathtaking.

  “Yes, sometimes Mother Nature decides to play along and drops a gift like that in your lap.” I felt him looking at me, rather than at the screen. “But you would know that.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked as I went to the next picture, and the next.

  “You’ve been doing your own food photography for years, haven’t you?”

  That stopped me cold. “How would you know that?” I asked, turning to him.

  He shrugged. “What? You don’t think I did a little digging? I wanted to know more about you, what qualified you to write that article.”

  Right. I should’ve known it would have something to do with him wondering if I was qualified. Not curiosity, not interest. His silly ego.

  At least I knew there was nothing to be even the slightest bit ashamed of in the work I did on my blog. I might have started off small, not knowing what the heck I was doing, but my process had evolved over time.