Лори Касс - Pouncing On Murder

Though I still didn’t think it was a good idea for anyone to be waving around any sort of a firearm at harmless strangers—Neva might get herself into real trouble someday—now that I’d spent time in her kitchen, I could also see why there was a sort of tacit understanding in the community about her.

The one unknown still hanging out there was whether Duvall had tried to push those bricks onto Adam’s head. Ash said that Duvall had sworn he’d had nothing to do with it, but they were looking into it. Not that it mattered, prisonwise. Duvall would stand trial for Henry’s murder and the attempted murder of Adam and me, and would undoubtedly be imprisoned for the rest of his life.

My own personal unknown, a possible huge hike to my boat slip rental fee, was also still hanging out there, but I wasn’t going to worry about that. It was too nice a day.

“Hey, know what?” I asked. We were walking along the waterfront now, and I pointed at a gorgeous wooden boat tied up to the city dock. “Aunt Frances is going to teach a boat restoration class this fall at the college.”

“How nice,” Kristen said.

I grinned. My friend, although she’d lived next to water most of her life, couldn’t stand being out on it. “And you know what boat they’re going to restore?”

“Haven’t the foggiest . . . Hang on.” She stopped and stared at me. “Don’t tell me.”

“Yep. They’re going to restore Neva’s boat as a class project. Won’t cost her a dime.”

Kristen gave a long whistle. “How’d you manage that?”

I smiled a little smugly. “Librarian magic.” Well, that and a lot of fast talking. I’d called Neva ahead of time and invited her to the book fair to meet Trock. He was interested in local farmers, I told her, which was true, and while it hadn’t been easy to get Neva and my aunt in the same spot at the same time, I’d managed to do so with Holly’s help, and once I’d steered the conversation in the direction of boat restoration, everything fell into place.

Kristen and I, still talking, arrived at Josh’s small ranch house. The yard was trim and neat, with low shrubs softening the foundation. Pale blue siding with white trim gave the house a friendly look, and the brass of the light fixtures that flanked the front door winked bright in the sunshine.

“I suppose,” Kristen said, “that Holly is going to be here.”

“Yes, and you’re going to behave, just like you promised.” For some reason I’d never quite grasped, Holly and Kristen, who had known each other since they were in kindergarten, couldn’t be in the same room without sparks flying.

My best friend squinched up her face. “Did I really promise?”

“Absolutely,” I said, and we went up to the front door and knocked.

The door opened to a smiling Josh. “Hey, Minnie. Hi, Kristen. Come on in.” Behind him, there were a number of people milling about, drinks and plates of food in hand. Some of the people I didn’t know, but I saw Kelsey, Donna, and a number of other library staff.

We stepped up and in, and I blinked at the color the living room walls were painted. “Isn’t that—”

A female shriek from the recent arrival behind us made everyone in the room wince. “Josh Hadden!” Holly yelled. “You are such a jerk!”

Josh laughed. “Gotcha!”

Holly pointed at the walls. “This is the exact color I told you about, isn’t it? Not a taupe, not an olive, not a brown, but something that’s part of them all.”

“Yep,” he said.

She craned her neck around to see. “And your dining area. That’s the same dark red I was talking about.”

“And the kitchen is the sage green you picked out,” he said, grinning. “I even painted the bathroom that pink you liked so much.”

“You did not!” Holly said.

He shrugged. “It’s just paint. I figured if I hated it, I’d do it over again in beige. Didn’t turn out so bad.”

Holly gave him a hug. “You,” she said, “are the biggest jerk I know.”

“But seriously good-looking,” he said, combing back his hair with his fingers. “You got to admit that part, at least.”

They started in on their siblinglike bickering, and Kristen and I eased away. “Food’s in the kitchen,” Donna said. “And you have to take a look at the bathroom. The color is gorgeous. I don’t know how he had the guts to do that.”

In the kitchen, ladling meatballs from a slow cooker onto a paper plate, was Mitchell Koyne.

“Hey, Mitchell,” I said. “How are you doing?”

He looked at me, looked left and right, then looked back at me. It was a classic deer-in-the-headlights expression, but I had no idea why it was on Mitchell’s face.

“Uh, hi, Minnie,” he said. “Hey, Kristen.”

An attractive woman came into the room and put her arm possessively around Mitchell’s waist. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Bianca.”

Kristen blinked. I blinked. Then we recovered from the shock of seeing a seemingly sensible woman voluntarily attach herself to Mitchell and introduced ourselves. Once Bianca learned about Kristen’s restaurant, the two immediately went deep into a discussion of arcane food preparation.

I spooned potato salad and meatballs onto a paper plate and was trying to decide which pasta salad to choose when Mitchell sidled over to me.

“You okay?” he whispered.

But, really, why did I have to choose at all? I dolloped both kinds onto my plate. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked.

“Well, you know.” He nodded toward Bianca.

I had no clue, actually. “She seems very nice,” I ventured.

“The best,” Mitchell said, a sappy grin on his face. “I just, you know, hope your feelings aren’t hurt. I mean, I know you kind of have sort of a thing for me.”

I’d just put a forkful of salad in my mouth, but I almost spit it out. “A thing?” I gasped, trying not to choke.

“Well, yeah.” Mitchell shrugged. “That’s why I haven’t told you I was dating Bianca. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

I summoned the deep reserves of strength I was rarely forced to draw upon, and didn’t laugh. “Thank you for your concern,” I said as seriously as I could manage. “But I’ll be fine.”

Mitchell peered down at me. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

• • •

An hour later, Kristen and I were walking to the marina, and I was telling her the story. “Are you serious?” she asked.

“Yep,” I said. “Remember he asked me out last summer? I’m guessing whatever I told him got misinterpreted.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Kristen said, grinning. “And he said he didn’t want to hurt your feelings?” Her laugh was loud and long. “Classic Mitchell. Creating problems where there aren’t any around for miles.”

“He was trying to be nice,” I protested.

“And you’re defending him,” she said, still laughing. “No wonder he thinks you have a thing for him.”

“Someone has to look out for people like Mitchell,” I said. “Wouldn’t the world would be a poorer place if we didn’t have Mitchell stories to tell?”

“True enough.” We had rounded the corner to the marina just as Kristen started to tell a story from high school about Mitchell and the physics teacher and a box of dry ice when she stopped short. “Isn’t that your boss?”

“Can’t be,” I said. “He doesn’t . . .” Then I looked in the direction where she was looking. “Uh-oh.”

“Minerva,” Stephen said, walking toward us briskly. “I must say I expected a phone call from you today.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think why. “My phone fell in the water last night.”

“I see.” He glanced at Kristen, who took the hint.

“There’s a deck chair over there that has my name on it,” she said, and left me alone with Stephen.