Page 43 of Deathmarch

“Thank you. And thank you again for bailing me out.”

“No problem. I had it set aside for a boat I’m thinking about buying. It can wait. Hey, maybe I’ll change my mind in the meanwhile and save the money.” He paused for a second. “But don’t skip bail.”

“I promise.”

“Are you coming over for lunch?”

“I don’t want to make your mom uncomfortable.”

“She’s a strong woman. She’ll live.”

“I’ll think about it.”

But she didn’t, not really, and not only because of Rose. She was avoiding Harper.

I wish we’d met again under different circumstances.

He’d just said that to mess with her head, she was pretty sure. The infuriating thing was that it was working. Because now she kept thinking about what it would have been like if they’d met under different circumstances.

Would she have liked the new Harper?

Probably.

The thought wasn’t helpful in the least. He was still investigating her. She could not let her guard down around him, could not fall into some stupidin a parallel universefantasy.

Sooner or later, he’d be showing up again to ask more questions.

Before that happened, she seriously needed to get her act together.

* * *

When Frank Carmelo didn’t respond, Harper asked again. “Who’s in the kitchen?”

“Nobody’s here but me.” The papery skin on Frank’s face flushed red. “And I don’t appreciate you accusing one of us just because you have no inkling how to catch the real killer.”

When an ancient gray cat meandered out of the kitchen and went straight to Frank’s chair to jump on his lap, Harper relaxed. “No offense meant. I’ve arrested people I never thought I’d arrest, for stuff I never thought they’d do. You never really know a person, do you? All I’m saying is, people have problems. Grandkids desperate for college money. Medical expenses…”

Frank petted the cat as he glared at Harper. “None of us killed Chuck.”

“Then what’s the harm in me checking? If I could quickly clear his friends, it’d get me closer to the real killer.”

The man pressed his thin lips together.

“Some of the hoard was taken,” Harper said. “Not all of it was recovered.”

Anger flared in Frank’s eyes, his lips thinning even more, until he snapped out, “You can ask the Bianchi girl about that.”

“I’m starting to think she might have been an unwitting accomplice at the most. You said it yourself. Hard to see her doing something this bad.”

“Her daddy was plenty crooked.”

“Sure he was. But when wassheever in trouble?”

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Now that his friends were accused, Frank was ready to throw her under the bus.

“Listen, I’m not saying you’re wrong. But the judge is going to want evidence.” Harper paused, then tried an even friendlier tone. “My father has nothing but good to say about you. That’s why I came to you first. Help me out here, Frank.”

That had been the right track, because the man finally, reluctantly nodded.