Page 20 of Bobbing for Bodies
“I bet she was.” That woman never had a kind thing to say about Hunter. She’s simply using his funeral to get into Mr. Sexy’s pants. “So? How are you doing with the news I shared?”
He pulls back with confusion, and regret takes over his features. “Honestly, I don’t know what to make of it. And, that’s why I was hoping to talk to you this afternoon. I think I need you to elaborate.”
“So you can firm up the case against me to have me committed? No thank you.” I glance back to where Noah and his date were just a few minutes ago, but they’ve done a disappearing act. Probably outside inspecting the casket for clues before they bury poor Hunter. “But since you pulled something so intimate from me—a feat no other human has ever achieved before—” I told Nell myself, and that was willingly. Everett offers the hint of a smug grin. “I’d like to ask a favor of you. I need you to meet me in Ashford sometime this week.”
“Stepping out for a clandestine meeting behind my stepbrother’s back so soon? I’m intrigued. Where are we meeting? Just a heads-up. I prefer hotels to motels.”
“Ha-ha. You’re not funny. I’ll text you with the details. Do me a favor, though, and try not to look so official. You’re downright intimidating in a suit.” He breaks out into an outright grin. “We’ll have to pretend to be a couple going in for a loan. And it has to be believable.”
“A couple looking for a loan?” Gone is any trace of a smile, and he’s right back to being his intimidating self. “It sounds like you’re investigating. What’s in this for me?” He folds his arms across his chest as if we were suddenly in the boardroom going over hostile negotiations.
“This is a prepaid venture. I handed you the secrets of my soul on a silver platter, remember?”
He leans in, stern. “I want more. A full and thorough examination from A to Z. I need to know when this began, how often it occurs, and if you’re hearing voices.”
“Oh? Is that what the psychiatrist you contacted suggested you look for?”
A twinge of guilt erupts over his face. Everett knows I’ve got his number, and I’m petrified that I ever gave him mine.
Noah crops up and saves both Everett and me from any further hostile aggression.
“What’s going on?” Noah looks to the two of us with an affable smile, and I suddenly want to shake it right off his body.
“Where’s the good detective?” I ask, looking past him and coming up empty of one redhead. “Off to interrogate the family, I suppose? She is a professional. I don’t see why the funeral should be off-limits.”
Noah’s brows pinch together in the middle, forming a perfect V, and suddenly I’m hungry, but it isn’t for food. “She left. It’s not uncommon for a homicide detective to pay his or her final respects at a public memorial. Besides, you never know who might show up.”
“Like you,” I muse, pulling him in and dotting his lips with a kiss. “I was just telling Everett about my little house hunt this afternoon.” I shoot a death ray over to the nosy judge. “I’m looking at two houses, and they happen to be side by side. You wouldn’t know anyone in the market for a rental, would you?” If Everett knows what’s good for him, he’ll go along with it. When he promised he wouldn’t tell a soul, that umbrella undoubtedly covered Noah. But in the event he needs a reminder, I covertly stomp my stiletto over his shoe.
“Yes,” he says it curt and directed right to me. “I do know of a few people looking to relocate.” He looks to Noah with a glaring grin. “Lottie was kind enough to invite me to tag along. I’m ready as soon as you are.”
“Great.” Noah glances around the vicinity. “My realtor gave me the combination to the lock boxes. Why don’t I meet the two of you out front and we’ll head on over?”
“Perfect,” I say. “I walked from the bakery, so if I can catch a ride with one of you, that would be best.”
Noah nods to his stepbrother in the way you do when you’re about to have an altercation. “You’ll ride with me,” he says before gifting me a kiss and speeding off in the direction of daylight pouring in from the front.
“What are you doing?” I hiss to Everett as soon as we’re alone.
“I collect payment prior to delivery of the goods. If you want me to go on some asinine undercover op, then you need to spill it, Lemon. I’m worried about you, and I don’t like that feeling.”
“Why? Because you’ve never worried about anyone else before?” I’m betting not. But it’s sweet of him to venture into unchartered territories for me so soon into our questionable friendship.
“Because I’m frightened for you.” It comes out kind, softer than any other words he’s ever spoken to me. “I’ll meet you out front.” Everett takes off, and I stand there trying to process how I landed in a vat of boiling emotional oil and how Hunter Fisher ended up in a casket.
I step out into the straggling crowd and note a woman hunched over near the front. She looks about my age, for sure a romantic contender as far as Hunter was concerned. A young man about the same age wraps his arms around her in an effort to comfort her. Although, judging by the way she’s batting him away, she looks far more hostile than she ever does grieving. But that man, there’s something about that dark head of curly hair that seems more than vaguely familiar, and then it hits me.
“It’s him,” I say under my breath as I speed on over.
The girl is pretty, long, dark, wavy hair and long, thick lashes that are most likely not from nature, but she’s able to pull it off. Her lips are painted a bold shade of red-blue that my mother keeps trying to push on me, but I’ve tried it and, believe me when I say, it just makes me look like a clown, and a scary one at that. There’s something theatrical about the girl in general, like she just stepped off a runaway to attend the funeral.
I hasten my way over, clearing my throat as I close in on them. “Excuse me,” I say as I step in close. “I remember you,” I say to the young man, and his expression irons out. “The bakery. You saved my life about a week ago. The scaffolding?”
He ticks his head back. “That’s right. That was a close call. I’d say it was your lucky day.” His skin is slightly pocked around his cheeks, and he’s got a tattoo on his neck of a bird in flight that I didn’t notice before.
“Well, it wasn’t really. Hunter was gunned down behind my shop later that night. So it was a terrible day, actually.”
The girl looks to her phone and flicks on her sunglasses. “I gotta run.” She pushes past the crowd without so much as a goodbye.