Page 29 of Skin and Bones

“Hogwash, Bea,” Dottie said. “You know you like to make a grand entrance.”

Bea smiled. “So what if I do?”

“That leaves Dottie and Walt who don’t have tickets.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass on attending the event,” Walt said. “I’ve got plans tomorrow evening that can’t be changed.”

“What plans?” Bea asked nosily.

“Personal plans,” Walt said pursing his lips.

That was probably the wrong thing to say. There wasn’t a personal anything that Bea hadn’t been able to find out.

“So that leaves Dottie,” I said. “You can have my second ticket.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“And I’ll pick you up,” Hank told her. “I have to pass your house to get to the lighthouse.”

I raised my brows at that, but didn’t say anything. Hank and Dottie had been spending an awful lot of time together lately.

“Could you pick me up, dear?” Deidre asked me. “You know I don’t drive as well at night as I used to.”

“You don’t drive as well in the daytime either,” Walt said, “But you never bring that up.”

“Hush, Walt,” Deidre said, waving her hand at him.

“Of course,” I said, knowing that Walt was right. Deidre was a terrible driver. “I’m happy to.”

“You all need to be careful,” Dash warned, suddenly serious. “If Elizabeth was killed because of what she discovered, whoever did it might still be on this island. And they’ve already shown they’re willing to break into the sheriff’s office to cover their tracks.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Walt said confidently. “We’ve been handling ourselves since before you were born, son.”

“We’re always armed, you know,” Bea added casually. “This is the South. Even my mailman wears an ankle holster.”

“Please do not bring weapons to a public fundraiser,” Dash said, looking alarmed.

“Can’t make any promises, Sheriff,” she said. “Everyone else will be armed too. A girl’s got to protect herself.”

“Have another sidecar, Bea,” Dottie said. “You’re scaring the sheriff.”

“What about this Jason Brooks?” I asked, redirecting the conversation. “When should we talk to him?”

“Let’s get through tomorrow night first,” Dash said. “If we find the evidence, we’ll need it before approaching someone with his connections.”

The planning continued over second helpings of jambalaya and refills of bourbon. I noticed Dash checking his watch periodically, a slight tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

“Something wrong?” I asked quietly while the others argued about whether Dottie’s arthritic knee would prevent her from climbing the lighthouse stairs.

“Just cautious,” he replied, his voice low. “I wasn’t followed here, but I can’t stay long. Someone is bound to notice my vehicle parked where it is and Larson’s been watching me like a hawk.”

“Larson? Why am I not surprised,” I said, remembering his cold stare at the station. “That man practically radiates resentment.”

“He’s having trouble with the transition,” Dash said. “He’ll either fall in line or he’ll be out of a job. Change is hard for some people.”

Larson had always struck me as someone who enjoyed wielding authority more than actually protecting and serving.

“I should go,” Dash said, rising from his chair. “The longer I’m here, the more suspicious it looks.”