Sixth Grave on the Edge(5)

“Sure did. How’s our plan coming along?”

“You mean your plan?”

“Fine, how’s my plan coming along?”

“I don’t know about this, Charley. I mean, if Robert wanted to go out with me, he’d ask, right? I’m not sure trying to make him jealous is a good idea.”

It always took me a minute to figure out who Robert was. “Are you kidding? It’s a fantastic idea. It’s Uncle Bob we’re talking about here. He needs motivation.” I gave one last glance to the Fosters’ house before driving off.

“What if he loses interest?”

“Cook, have you ever lost interest in a pair of shoes because someone else was looking at them?”

“I guess not.”

“Didn’t it make you want them even more?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

I turned onto Juan Tabo and started back toward the office. “Okay, I’m headed that way. How about lunch?”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

My office was on the second floor of the best brewery the Duke City had to offer. It’d recently undergone a change of ownership when Reyes bought it from my dad. The idea of Reyes as a business owner warmed the cockles of my heart. Whatever those were.

“He has a brother,” I said, still stunned at the possibilities of it all.

“He has a brother,” she agreed.

This I had to see.

* * *

I wound around tables and chairs to get to Cookie. Fortunately, she’d grabbed us a spot before the mad rush hit. Ever since Reyes took over, the place had been jumping. Business was always pretty good, but with a new owner who was also a local celebrity— Reyes made national news when the man he’d gone to jail for killing was discovered alive—and the addition of a brewery in the building adjacent to the bar, patronage had tripled. Now the place was packed with men who wanted the fresh brews and women who wanted the brewer himself. Hussies.

I walked stiffly past the worst hussy of them all: my former BFF, who’d apparently decided to move in. Jessica had been at the restaurant every day for over two weeks. Most days more than once. I knew she was hot for my man, but holy cow.

Clearly, I’d have to say yes to Reyes soon. This was getting ridiculous. He needed a ring on his finger—and fast. Not that that would stop them all, but hopefully it would thin out the horde.

A tatter of giggles erupted from Jessica’s table as I passed. She was probably telling them the tale of Charley Davidson, the girl who claimed to talk to dead people. If she only knew. Then again, if she were to die soon, I’d totally ignore her. She’d want me to talk to her then.

“You brought me a flower,” Cookie said as I plopped down across from her, collapsing into the seat with a dramatic flair I usually reserved for the evening cocktail hour.

“Sure did.” I handed the daisy over to her.

“So, a homeless guy?”

I nodded. “Yeah. He was at the corner up the street and walked through traffic to hand it to me.”

“How much?” she asked, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Five.”

“You paid five dollars for this? It’s plastic. And filthy.” She shook it to get the layer of dirt off. “He probably stole it off someone’s grave.”

“It was all I had on me.”

She shook her head in disappointment. “How can they always pick the suckers out of a crowd?”

“No clue. Did you order?”

“Not yet. I was just glad to get a table. That man came back in, Mr. Joyce. He’s still agitated and was not happy you wouldn’t be back to the office until one.”

“Well, he’ll just have to hold his horses. PIs have to eat, too.”

“And I see your bestie is back again.”

I glanced back at Jessica’s table. “I think she should have to pay rent.”

“I concur wholeheartedly.”

A slow warmth spread over me as I spoke. The heat that forever surrounded Reyes curled around me like smoke. I could feel him near. His interest scorching. His hunger undeniable. But before I could seek him out, another emotion hit me. A cooler one, harder though no less powerful: regret. I turned and watched as my dad made his way to our table.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, nudging a chair with my foot.

He pushed it back to the table. “I just came in to finish up the last of the paperwork.” He looked around Calamity’s. “I think I’ll miss this place.”

I was sure he would, but nostalgia was not the emotion I felt emanating from him.

“Why don’t you sit down, Leland?” Cookie asked.

He snapped back to us. “That’s okay. I have a few errands to run before I head out.”