by Eden Butler
“Why would he steal from you? Who knows why that man does half the shit he does?”
Their voices died as I moved up the ladder, stepping onto the roof to sit next to the dormer, my head thick with thoughts and theories I’d obsessed about for years. When you were doing time, there wasn’t much else to do but wonder how you got where you were and who the hell was to blame for it. Most cons knew it was them and played like it wasn’t. The innocent ones, like me, spent a hell of a lot of time obsessing on revenge if freedom and retrials weren’t possible. They weren’t for me. Not when I was broke. Not with the evidence they planted in my truck.
But the thought of the busted and wrecked jobs had eaten away at me until I’d finally settled on one realization: Sam Travis had been responsible.
Only problem was, there was no damn way to prove that shit.
When I’d worked on that floor, I’d checked and double checked the pipes because the place had been gutted. It was something Tasso taught me. Sam wasn’t wrong. I had been the foreman. The guys that hung the sheetrock and trim, they were all under me. It was my place to make sure their work was good. And it all had been. When I’d started on that lobby, there’d been no leaks. Everything, including the pipes, was secure, tight and dry as a bone.
So where’d the screw come from, and how did Sam know about it? Wasn’t like he knew anything about construction or plumbing.
It was time for a little recon, but I couldn’t do that myself. People in Midland knew me. They’d point me out if I followed Sam around and poked into how he spent his day. They likely still hated me and would definitely call me out.
I needed someone else to do the digging for me, and I had the perfect person in mind.
My cell was warm in my hands when I pulled it out of my pocket and I had to cup a hand around the screen to see the contact list. I paused to shoot off a text to Stevie and request the lumber for Slim, then hurried to select one of only a handful of names on my contact list after the text went through.
Three rings in, and I couldn’t keep the grin off my face when I heard that thick, relaxed Australian accent on the other line. “’Lo, mate!”
“Chancey boy.”
“Ed! How are things at home? You settle in okay? Find your people and such?” His rapid-fire questions had that grin stretching over my face, but I couldn’t indulge. Not just yet. I wanted this shit figured out. I had Tasso’s name. My people’s name. It was a good name, and I wanted it to be clean again.
“Almost,” I said, leaning forward with one elbow on my knee. “Listen, I have a question.”
“Shoot, mate. I’m all ears.”
“You or Aubrey know a good P.I.?”
Piper
The newlyweds on the second floor hadn’t left their room for two days.
Three thumps, accompanied by a loud scream of “Oh, God!” and Sam and I both looked up.
“Ridiculous.” His disgusted, pinched expression chipped at the giggle working up my throat.
“They’re in love,” I tried, tapping on the keyboard, adding the address list into the document for next week’s newsletter. “And it’s their honeymoon.”
“They are shameless, honeymoon or not.” The frown hadn’t left his face all morning, and the longer Ed stayed on the property, the deeper the lines in my business partner’s face grew.
Another moan, accompanied by a cackling laugh sounded overhead, and Sam grunted a sigh, half-irritated mutter, half-disappointed complaint.
“Lighten up,” I told him, shoving his mug of coffee away from my computer as he inched forward on his elbows, eyes squinted toward the voices on the other side of the front porch. Sam had been in a funk for over six months now, ever since his long-time girlfriend Erin left him and didn’t let him know where she’d gone off to. But today’s mood, I guessed, had a lot to do with Ed being back, more specifically working at my B&B and less with the discovery of the rotted trim surrounding the porch or my insistence that we replace the shutters I had never liked very much in the first place. Sam had snorted, when Ed informed me the materials for the trim rebuild wouldn’t be in until today, telling me it was just an excuse my ex made to spend more time around me. I doubted that. But Ed did come back to finish up a few other projects Alex had promised to handle for me.
Truth was, Sam was grumpy most of the time lately, and I doubted it had anything to do with his ex or mine. He fidgeted with his phone, jaw tensing before he tucked it away and stared out of the window when one of his usual delivery vans pulled into the drive.
“Another one for your private collection?” I asked, not missing the way he dismissed me with a jerk of his chin.
Sam claimed to always be collecting antique furniture and paintings for his folks’ estate out on Lake Myers, had been for years. But he never gave me a straight answer why those deliveries had to come to my B&B.
He glanced up at the window, not commenting on the delivery guy or how the box in the man’s hand couldn’t have been big enough to be any painting or piece of furniture, then back to Ed when the man said something to one of the workers helping him. His features twisted, his nostrils flaring. Sam’s expressions told me enough what he thought about my ex being back in Midland. And it was starting to get on my nerves.
“If Ed being here is putting you in such a bad mood, why don’t you go in your office?”
“And leave you out here with him around? What kind of friend would that make me?” He meant it as a joke, even gave me a caffeine stained, toothy grin, but I didn’t return the expression.
“The kind of friend who knows I don’t need a babysitter.”
“That’s not what—”
“You get the bid done for the Crimson Gala?”
Eyes narrowing, Sam kept silent, clearly not liking that I’d called him on his procrastination. “You know Mrs. Shaw is expecting your numbers to be impressive. That event will bring in—”
“I know how much money and attention it will earn us.” He’d heard me dreaming out loud about wanting the heart fundraiser—the biggest for three counties—to be held at our little B&B for months now. But Sam handled the bids. It was his arena. Still, nagging him seemed like the only way to make the man move lately.
Outside, Ed whistled, gesturing to the guy in the black S-10 to stop as he backed his truck toward the porch and Sam’s attention stayed on him. “If he tries anything…”
“What the hell is he going to try?”
Sam jerked a look back at me, but didn’t speak.
“The better question would be, what the hell do you think I want from the guy that broke my heart?”
He opened his mouth, eyebrows pushed together before he spoke. “Piper…”
I hated the pity in his tone and how my question had deflated his irritation enough that he slipped an arm around the back of my chair.
“You better get busy. That pitch is in four hours.”
He didn’t say anything else and I did little more than move my head in his direction when he slipped behind me and walked down the small hallway to his office in the back. I was being a bitch. Biting and testy and it had nothing to do with how slow Sam was to finish the bid.
Outside the window Ed helped unload the small truck, holding a stack of trim over his shoulders as the skeleton crew followed behind him, arguing about who would unload the rest.
“The man is the boss,” I heard the taller of the two say. “Are you gonna do anything, asshole?”
The kid he spoke to was young, no more than eighteen; the same lazy jackass I’d seen spending most of the past two days playing on his phone while the others worked. It was a relief, though I’d never admit it to anyone, when Alex told me Ed would handle this job. At least I knew it would get done.
“I’m back, Miss Warren.” Eliza, our front desk clerk smiled at me, tucking her purse behind the large desk before she sat.
“Good lunch?”
“Well, I’m back on my points and I’m paying off my student loans.” She adjusted her skirt,
pressing the back with her hand as she stood straight. “So, it was light—cucumbers and vegan poppers.”
“Oh, sweetie, we weren’t put on this earth to count calories and pay bills…” I started, wincing at her raised eyebrows. “Wow. I sound like an asshole, saying that standing in the middle of my B&B…”
“Wearing a, what? Size eight?”
“Ten, thank you very much.” She laughed when I stuck my tongue out at her, then shot her a wink, my attention going to the window and the old man I spotted slipping from the truck in the drive.
“Who’s that?” Eliza asked, standing next to me as we looked out of the window. “Haven’t seen him around before.”
“You’re new to Midland. Tasso’s not.” It had been at least a year since I’d seen him, not since Velma’s funeral. Even then, I hadn’t had the nerve to speak to him, sure that all of Ed’s family hated me.
“Tasso?”
“My…sister-in-law’s grandfather.” He moved slower, favoring his left side like he couldn’t manage to put all his weight, slight as it was, on both feet.
“Your sister-in-law. But I didn’t know—”
“Hey, do me a favor and go make sure the couple on the second floor has fresh towels. I’ll watch the front desk.”
She straightened, her arm brushing against mine as she stepped back. “Sure thing.”
My stomach twisted, the guilt bubbling at cutting her off. I liked Eliza. She was a hard worker and a sweet kid, but there was no sense digging up the past and laying all the skeletons bare.
Ed met Tasso in the driveway, taking a small bag from him, digging into it with a nod and a quick grin that didn’t linger on his face. The old man said something to Ed that made him frown and before I could duck out of the window, both turned toward the house, catching me as I stared.
Ed looked away first, seeming immediately interested in whatever it was his grandfather had brought him, but Tasso kept his attention on me, tilting his head and let a small, slow grin shake his lips. Then, he tipped his hat, and a smile I couldn’t fight stretched over my mouth followed by a quick wave that the old man returned with a flick of two fingers.
“You sweet old man,” I said to no one, wanting to go out there and throw my arms around his neck, tell him I was sorry about Velma, and about keeping away from him for so long. But Tasso wouldn’t like the attention or me making a scene, and I was sure Ed would have something to say—not a word nice, I guessed—if I started making apologies to anyone but him, though he didn’t deserve it.
Tasso’s smile lowered and he nodded to Ed, disregarding something his grandson said as he limped back toward the truck. My gaze shot to the younger man and the tight set of his mouth, how he watched his grandfather, how everything in the way he stood and the expression on his face told me he didn’t like how he’d found his grandfather after five years away. Time had taken a lot from all of us; most of all from Mr. Mescal.
Behind me, Eliza rustled through some paper, and I glanced at her, but couldn’t keep my attention off Ed’s expression and the worry that had hardened his features. As Tasso inched into his truck and made the slow effort of starting it and pulling out of the drive, Ed watched him, taking small steps toward the truck, his movements slow, his gaze focused as the old man pulled onto the street and moved into town.
Something twisted my insides, seeing how the sight of Ed’s grandfather seemed to affect him. It affected me too.
And I had no idea why.
Oh, I hated seeing Mr. Mescal like that. He’d been funny and sweet five years back, even before then, when Evie and I were still close, when I’d tag along to Mill Valley to powwows or rodeos to watch her dance or run barrels. Tasso told corny jokes the entire way there.
“Hey, little firecracker,” he’d call me, grinning at me in the rearview.
“Yeah, Tasso?”
Evie and Velma would automatically start to complain, knowing what was coming, but I didn’t mind. Those goofy jokes were the best part of the trip.
“How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?”
He’d told that joke at least a dozen times before, but I always pretended to be clueless. “I dunno. How many?”
“Ten tickles.”
Then came a wink at me and that loud belly laugh. It was the laugh that made everyone grin. Tasso was fun, lively, and doted on his wife.
Now, though, he wasn’t the same and Ed seemed to understand that.
That knotted feeling in my stomach burned as I watched him, hating myself for the worry I felt as Ed shook his head, curling the bag in his hand before he turned, stopping short when he spotted me in the window.
Shit.
I couldn’t jerk out of that window and pretend I hadn’t been staring. He’d found me out. It would be stupid to pretend he hadn’t. But I didn’t linger, turning away with a curse in my head for myself and a reminder of why it had been so long since I’d been around Mr. Mescal and why Ed hadn’t been in Midland to see his grandfather’s decline.
“Your damn fault,” I said out loud, pulling the curtains closed.
“What’s that?” Eliza asked, looking up at me over the laptop at the reception desk.
“Nothing.” I needed a little space and a lot of air to get the guilt out my head and there was only one place I knew that could do that. I grabbed my cell and tucked it in my back pocket. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be out in my garden shed.”
I was across the lobby and out of the parlor door before Eliza could offer a quick, “yes, ma’am.”
The hydrangeas were huge, turning a pretty purple color after a healthy dose of used coffee grounds in the soil. I weeded the large planter around the garden shed, smiling at the small grouping of caterpillars as they slid along the stacked brick border and scooped three in my hand.
“I don’t think so, fellas.” They went still against my gloves as I marched them around the side of the shed and toward the front of the house, depositing the caterpillars into the front grass that edged the pavers along the walkway leading to the porch. “Have at those willow leaves.”
They disappeared in the dark grass and I grinned against the soft breeze that hit me, loving the coolness in the air. It would be fall soon, and Midland would be busy with the festival and the changing season. The B&B would be packed, and I’d have to pick up a few more workers to help contend with the extra visitors and decorations for the upcoming holiday season.
“That’s the last one,” I heard to my left, glancing at the front porch and the tall guy that had been helping Ed all day with the repairs to the trim. “Shit, man, I forgot the remnants by the dormer. Can you grab it before you come down?”
A quick wave and Ed stood straight, glancing around the roof like it was perfectly normal to be twelve feet from the ground with nothing but dumb luck keeping him from falling.
He reached for the few strips of trim leaning against the dormer, grabbing them in one hand, but stopped to check his phone when it chirped, not paying attention to how he moved or how closely he came to the roof’s edge.
“Hey!” I cleared the pavers and stood with my hand covering my eyes to look up at him. Ed shoved his phone in his pocket, and glanced at me, frowning when I shook my head. “You trying to get yourself killed? Messing with your phone on the roof?”
Head to the side, he served me a bored frown that made him look disinterested…and, God help me, hot. “I know what I’m doing.”
“If you fall…”
“You worried about me now?” His laugh was quick, not at all amused and I took it for the insult it was meant to be. “That doesn’t seem likely, seeing as you think I’m a thief and all.”
I ignored the dig, not caring that he still seemed bitter. We weren’t friends. I didn’t much care what happened to him, but I did care if that something happened on my property, on Alex’s watch. “You bonded? I don’t want you bankrupting my brother…”
“He’s my brother, too…” That smug asshole squatted down, balancing on the bal
ls of his feet and pushed the front of his Stetson back before he grinned at me. “Miss Warren…”
The noise that came from my throat was thick, sounded like a grunt, but I shook my head, swallowing to push down my irritation as Ed kept on smirking. “He’s not your brother by blood so don’t you damn well fall and—”
He cut me off with a salute, standing straight, bouncing close to the edge of the roof from one foot to the other, that stupid smile lowering and widening again as he made a noise that I guess was supposed to get under my skin.
“Oh…shit…I better be careful…” Now he hopped on one foot, holding out his arms, dimples denting his cheeks when his guy behind me started cackling. “Slim, quick, give me a hand…I might fall…”
“You might,” Slim said, head shaking as he packed away his tools in the S10 in the driveway. “You’re pushing your luck.” It was a warning, but one the man didn’t seem to mean. Like Ed, Slim’s tone was light, his smile wide and just as annoying.
“Fine. Be an asshole. You’re good at it,” I said, turning toward the shed, ignoring Ed’s loud laugh as he called after me. “Kiss my ass.”
Then, before I’d cleared the side of the house, the laughter quieted, muted by the sharp creak that snapped behind Ed’s loud screech of “fuck!”
“Boss!” Slim yelled, and I came back to the front porch to find him running toward Ed, followed by two of the landscapers, all three men staring up at the roof.
My heart jackhammered when I spotted the fallen ladder on the ground and Ed gripping the ledge of the roof. “I got it,” he said, pulling himself up on one arm, teeth clenched as he tried to move himself farther up the roof. Then, another creak sounded from the roof and Ed jerked his gaze to the flaking shingles he held between his fingers, his eyes rounding when they splintered.
“Ed!” I shouted, running toward him just as Slim and the landscapers followed suit and the roof split, the awning twisting under his weight and Ed fell to the ground.
