Page 34 of Poison Apple Crisp
“It’s a fried pickle, Lot,” he’s quick to inform me, and boy, am I ever glad he did. I was about to shoot it right out of my mouth. But come to find out, now that I know it’s a pickle, I rather enjoy it.
“It’s delicious!” I rave to Everett as I try to pass him the basket.
“No thanks.” Everett doesn’t look too impressed with the level of culinary expertise this establishment has to offer.
The waitress lands a couple of menus before Everett and me.
“Let me know if I can get you anything,” she says, tossing down a few extra napkins onto the table. “Everything we serve is made with our home-brewed beer. Could I start the two of you off with a glass of the house special lager?”
“Just one for me,” Everett says. “Lemon? You want something fruity and unleaded?”
“Water is fine,” I say to the girl. “But throw in another order of these.” I hold up my new fried pickle obsession and she wrinkles her nose.
“You bet. Would you like an order of garlic fries with that?”
“No,” the three of us belt it out in unison, and she quickly does a disappearing act as if we admonished her.
“Well, at least we’re on the same page.” I stretch my lips in the right direction. “What are you doing here, Noah? I thought you were working late.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing here.” He purses his lips my way. “You didn’t think I was going to give you my blessing to come here and quiz a suspect, did you?”
“Noah,” I hiss as I lean his way. “Once Alyssa finds out you’re the lead homicide detective, and if she is the killer, she’s going to clam up. You could ruin everything. Now I didn’t want to have to say this, but I think it’s high time you stayed out of my investigation.”
A laugh rumbles in his chest. “My, how the tables have turned.”
“No”—Noah says it curt—“they haven’t turned, because you’re not going to be carrying on an investigation. Everett brought you here for dinner, I’m assuming.” He scowls over at his old stepbrother.
“And because he knew he couldn’t stop me.” I give Everett’s hand a quick pat.
“And that.” Everett dips his chin a notch. “I don’t want you alone with that woman. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I need to know our baby isn’t in a dark corner with a potential homicide suspect.”
“I can promise you that won’t happen.” My blood boils in an instant, and I force myself to count to ten. I only get to three. “You’re both so adorable,” I say without the proper enthusiasm. “I know you only want the best for the baby.” And I’m pretty sure that includes bubble wrapping me and locking me away in a closet.
A spray of stars glimmers before me, and I take up both Noah’s and Everett’s hands.
“Ginger is here. A ghostly voice of reason,” I say as the tiny pooch comes into her full nearly invisible glory. “Please tell me you’ve gleaned something. I’m afraid I’m on a leash tonight.”
Ginger groans. “You poor thing. How I hated being tethered to anything. My Emmet was a bit more adventurous during our more amorous moments. He had a penchant for chains and leashes, you know. Nolan was far more conventional during our special time, but I never held it against him.”
I drop both Noah’s and Everett’s hands cold.
Noah gives a few hard blinks my way. “What the hell is she talking about?”
“Never you mind.” I make a face at the promiscuous tell-all tattletale. “Ginger, did you see anything in here regarding the case?”
“A woman by the name of Alyssa is working near the front where the awful music is coming from. She says she’d quit ten times a day if her father didn’t threaten to disinherit her. She’s helping a few of the donkeys adjust their tails for the big show.”
“Great.” I’m guessing that show will offer up far more of their bottoms than I care to see, in keeping with the animalistic theme. “I’ll talk to her soon and see what I can gather.”
Ginger gives a sharp bark. “I’ll be back, Lottie. There’s a Chihuahua tucked in a purse who I think looks rather comely. I think I’ll try to strike up a conversation with him. You never know. This could be the most exciting May-December romance the world has ever seen.”
May-December? As in she’s December? More like half past dead, but I don’t let that little cadaverous detail put a hitch in her giddy-up. Ginger takes off for furrier pastures, and I look to my handsome suitors.
“Do you think the dirt Brenda had on Alyssa has something to do with this place?”
“I don’t know,” Everett says. “But as for date night, I can assure you we’re getting a do-over.”
Noah chuckles. “Speaking of date night, I’d like to have a date night with you myself, Lot. I ran into Frankie Allen downtown a few days ago, and she mentioned she heard about the baby.”