Page 49 of The Body in the Backyard

“Wilfred Peabody doesn’t look like much of a bad guy to me,” Riley said, turning her phone screen to face him.

It was an article from the local paper about Peabody donating a paw print necklace to a local animal shelter’s charity auction. He was a small man with graying hair and a hook nose above a tidy little mustache.

Nick rubbed a finger over his upper lip. He wondered if he could pull off a mustache. Like one of theTop Gunones.

“I can see it,” Riley said.

“You bouncing around in my brain again?” he teased.

“It’s not my fault you broadcasted mustache thoughts loud enough that I could hear them.”

“Facial hair considerations aside, how do you feel about having a little fun in there?” he asked, nodding toward the jewelry store.

“Why do you think I dressed in disguise?” She gestured at her outfit.

She was wearing a faux leather jacket over a tight Harley Davidson T-shirt with a deep V-neck and even tighter jeans. Nick hadn’t gotten past approving of the fit to notice it wasn’t her usual style. Being dazzled by female curves wasn’t exactly a smart move for a private investigator.

“You didn’t even notice I was in disguise, did you?” she asked with a smirk.

“I’m a simple man. You show off cleavage like that, and I’m bound to get a little distracted.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. She pulled an eye shadow palette out of her purse and flipped down the sun visor to get at the mirror.

A few quick swipes of a brush, the application of one of those little claw hair clips, and he found himself staring at a completely different woman.

“Two can play at that game,” he said, reaching into the back seat and producing a worn NASCAR ball cap. “Let’s go see what our jeweler suspect is up to.”

The bellabove the door tinkled when they walked in. The walls were papered in understated gold and decorated with framed black-and-white photos of happy bridal couples with big-ass rings. Waist-height glass display cases ringed the perimeter of the store. At the back was a cash register on what looked like a classy bar.

A chubby tabby cat exited its bed and dug its nails into the thick cream carpet.

“Welcome, welcome!” The greeting came not from the cat but from the man who bustled out of the back room in a navy pin-striped suit. He wore spectacles perched on his hawklike nose and had a polka-dotted pocket square. Wilfred Peabody in the flesh clocked in at somewhere around five feet six inches and one hundred forty pounds.

“Hi there. I’m Toby and this here’s my fiancée, LuEllen,” Nick said in a twangy southern accent. “I just asked this little lady to be my bride.”

“And I said only if the ring is nice enough,” Riley piped up as a chipper, flirtatious LuEllen. “I can’t control the fact that Toby here leaves toothpaste smeared all over the sink like he was using it to ice cupcakes. But Icanmake sure that I get a pretty little something for my trouble.”

Nick was impressed. He gave her an approving wink before turning back to Wilfred and leaning an arm on a case of watches. “Whaddaya say, jewelry man? Help a fella out?”

“It would be my pleasure. Please call me Wilfred.”

“Wilfred, in your expert opinion, do you think this little ol’ finger would look better with a princess cut or a cushion cut?” Riley asked.

“Well, why don’t we see what your ring finger has to say,” the jeweler said with enthusiasm.

The cat twined itself around Nick’s legs while Riley and Wilfred oohed and aahed over a velvet rectangle display of diamond rings.

“What do you think, Toby?” Riley asked, holding up her hand to show off a ring. Not just a ring.Thering.

Nick blinked and took her hand to get a better look.

“It’s a classic cushion-cut stone with a baguette halo set in platinum,” Wilfred explained.

“It’s, uh, nice,” Nick rasped. It was more than nice. It was fucking awesome.

Why was he suddenly sweating? Why was the ring so sparkly? Was there some kind of spotlight shining down on the ring like it was Taylor Swift onstage?

Get a hold of yourself, dipshit.