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“But what about all the bugs?” I ask.
He chuckles and I feel it like a faint tickle that shivers down my stomach into my thighs.
“Insects,” he clarifies. Then he falls quiet for a moment. “They’re cicadas. And locusts. Deathwatch beetles too. Insects that symbolize death.”
I glance up at his profile, the slope of his nose, the sharp planes of his cheekbones. His mouth is pressed into a hard line.
“For your mom,” I whisper.
He nods.
“The wildflowers are for my sisters,” he says, turning his arm to show me the tiny blooms hidden among the vines. “A daisy for Daisy, of course. A lupine for Von—they’re meant to symbolize perseverance and inner strength.”
“That’s a nice way to describe Siobhan,” I say.
The crooked grin is back. “How would you describe her?”
“Scary,” I admit and Caden laughs.
“Not sure there’s a wildflower for that.”
“What about this one?” I ask, touching a sleek hare peering through the vines.
“That’s a rabbit for Alistair,” Caden says. “They symbolize luck. With all the antics he’s gotten up to in his life, he’s lucky he hasn’t ended up in jail by now.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s luck and nothing to do with being the son of a billionaire,” I say dryly.
“Fair point.” Caden turns his arm so I can see a bird perched just above his elbow. “This is a falcon for Finn. Supposed to represent regality. God knows Finn would love to rule over us all.”
I grin. “Yeah, I think Mayor Davis is worried Finn might be gunning for his job.”
“Nah, he always had his sights set on Congress.”
“What about your dad?” I ask.
Caden’s eyes harden and he pulls his arm away. “He’s not on there.”
Before I can press him, Noah strolls up to us. “Hey guys,” he says, sliding onto the bar stool next to Caden. He looks at his best friend. “Any new leads?”
“According to Mrs. Greerson, you were wandering the halls in a suspicious manner the night of the party,” Caden jokes.
Noah chuckles. “I was using that half bathroom you have in the library to avoid waiting in line to take a piss. What else did Old Greerson tell you?”
“Reggie knows his way around a BMW,” Caden says.
“So no real suspects?” Noah asks.
“I have one, but since you are determined not to help me in any way, I’m not going to talk to you about that.”
Noah rolls his eyes and turns to me. “Caden would like to get me fired by using DMV files to get an address for him.”
“Carl Fillion?” I ask.
Noah nods. “I told him, the sheriff talked to Carl. He had an alibi. He was with his wife that morning.”
“And a wife never lied to protect her husband?” Caden growls.
“That’s fair,” Noah admits. “But I’m still not getting fired over an address. Where’s your PI at? I thought he was going to help.”