Sinfully Delicious

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Not that.” My throat felt dry and I gestured toward the alley again. “We need to call the police.”

  “Is this about the pickles?” Brad pinned me with a dark look. “I told you that I’m the boss. That means you have to wrangle the pickles.”

  “That could be viewed as sexual harassment,” David said, starting for the door. Unlike our uncle, he seemed genuinely curious to see what had shaken me.

  “She’s my niece,” Brad argued, scandalized. “I can’t sexually harass my niece.”

  “You could, but then we’d have a whole other problem to deal with.” David pushed open the door and poked his head outside.

  “Sexual harassment is something the left drummed up to hurt the right,” Brad said. “Of course, the right used it against political figures from the left for a time. Wait ... maybe I need to give this one more thought. There could be something here.”

  It’s hell having an uncle who is a conspiracy theorist and yet can manage to side with both political parties in the same breath.

  David flew through the door.

  “Call the police,” he barked, causing Brad to stand up straight. “There’s a body out back.”

  “A body?” Brad’s eyebrows drew together.

  David nodded, grim. “It’s Roy Axe.”

  I frowned. I knew that name. “Grandpa’s friend?”

  “I don’t know that friend is the right word, but yeah, he knows Grandpa.”

  “He’s dead?” Brad couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the concept.

  “He’s definitely dead,” David confirmed. “Call the police. Get Hunter out here right now.”

  My heart skipped at the words, but Brad was already moving. “Wait ... Hunter? You can’t call him here.”

  David shot me an impatient look. “He’s one of three police officers in this town. We have to call him.”

  “Yeah, but ... I’m all greasy from working in the kitchen.” What a ridiculous thing to say, and yet I was bothered by the thought of Hunter seeing me after the hectic morning rush.

  “I think the dead body takes precedence over your hair.”

  Obviously he didn’t grasp the etiquette of seeing your ex for the first time in a decade. “I’m not ready.”

  “Well, you’d better get ready. We need help and he’s our only option. Suck it up.” He clapped his hand against my shoulder hard enough to rock me to the side. “There’s a dead body outside. Your issues with Hunter aren’t important right now.”

  That showed just how out of touch he really was with reality.

  HUNTER RYAN LOOKED THE SAME.

  Actually, he looked better than he had in high school, and that was saying something.

  I watched his arrival from the area by the freezers, David and Brad with me, and felt my heart give a long, slow roll. Why did he have to look the same? It would’ve been easier if he’d let himself go. Instead, he’d filled out in all the right ways.

  His shoulders were always broad, his waist narrow. His arms were powerful, just like in high school when he liked to brag about how much he could bench press when competing with David. They would play off each other, compete, and yet they were always friends. Apparently they still were, because David detached from our small cluster and went out to greet him.

  “Hey, man.” David offered a smile that didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “Sorry to call you out here, but, well ... .” He gestured toward the body.

  “That’s why I’m here.” Hunter flashed the smile I remembered from high school and I had to tamp something down when the familiar dimple came out to play in his cheek. He was one of the few guys who could carry off a dimple and still look rugged. It was one of the things that forever etched his face into my dreams. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I’m not sure.” David nervously cracked his knuckles and watched as Hunter crouched down to get a better look at the body. “I just got back from Mexico last night so I slept in this morning. I’m not even on shift until tomorrow. I stopped in to get my paycheck. That’s when Stormy started freaking out.”

  Freaking out? I wasn’t even close to freaking out. David’s words bothered me. I managed — just barely — to keep my opinion to myself.

  “Stormy?” Hunter jerked up his chin, surprise etching across his handsome features.

  “Stormy.” David gestured toward me, causing Hunter to fix his attention on the small crowd that had gathered inside of the restaurant to watch the show through the open door. His breath hitched for a moment and then he steadied himself. There was no smile of welcome on his face. “Can you come out here, please?”

  There was no doubt he was talking to me. Resigned, I dropped my head and shuffled through the door, doing my best to pretend I wasn’t bothered by the way our reintroduction was playing out. “Hi.” My voice was a breathy squeak I absolutely hated.

  “Hello.” His response was cooler. “David says you found the body.”

  I nodded, grim. “Brad sent me out for pickles,” I started.

  “Pickles I never got,” Brad called out.

  I shot him a dark look. “I think there are more important things to worry about besides your pickles.”

  “Again, there are so many different ways that statement could be misconstrued,” David lamented.

  Hunter shot him an amused look before turning his full attention back to me. “Go on.”

  He acted as if we didn’t know one another, as if we hadn’t spent more than two years wrapped up in each other to the point of distraction. It was irritating, but also easier because it allowed me to focus on what needed to be done. Perhaps he knew that going in.

  “There’s not much to tell,” I replied. “I walked out this way. I wasn’t really paying attention. My shoe landed in what I thought was water and I kind of slid until I hit the storage building. When I turned to see what I’d slipped on, I saw ... him.”

  “Uh-huh.” Hunter glanced down at my sneakers. “I need those for evidence.”

  I balked. “They’re brand new.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that I need them.” His inflection didn’t change, which agitated me. How could he be so calm when we were seeing each other for the first time in almost ten years — and standing over a body?

  “Fine.” I fixed him with a dark look. “Would you like me to take them off now or can I go upstairs to get a different pair?”

  “I need them now.” He reached in his pocket and came back with a plastic bag. “Just drop them in here.”

  I was dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious. You want me to go barefoot around a dead body?”

  “I want those shoes,” Hunter replied. “I need them before you contaminate any evidence even further than you already have.”

  “And just how am I contaminating them?”

  “By ruining whatever evidence you might’ve stepped in.” For the first time since arriving, Hunter raised his voice. “Don’t make me ask for them again.”

  Was that a threat? It sure sounded like a threat.

  Clearly uncomfortable, David cleared his throat to get my attention. “Just give him your shoes, Stormy. It’s no big deal. They’re Skechers. You can get a new pair for fifty bucks.”

  I was ashamed to admit that I didn’t have the fifty bucks. That’s the reason I was living in the apartment above the restaurant. “Whatever.” I plopped down on the ground, making sure I was nowhere near the body, and started wrestling my shoes off. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Thank you.” Hunter dropped the bag by my feet and went back to studying the body. “This is Roy Axe. He was friends with your grandfather.”

  “More like frenemies,” David replied, causing me to narrow my eyes as I shoved one of my shoes into the plastic bag.

  “I thought they golfed together,” I said, grimacing when I noticed the blood on the second shoe. That’s what had caused me to slide across the alley. The white bottom of the formerly pristine sneaker was stained a horrible rust color.

  “They did ..
. back then,” David explained. “I don’t know that I would ever call them friends, but they were certainly friendlier back then than they were in recent years.”

  Hunter’s forehead wrinkled. “What caused the falling out?”

  I sensed trouble. “You can’t think Grandpa had anything to do with this,” I argued before David could answer.

  Hunter pinned me with an unreadable look. “I’m just trying to get a feel for what might’ve happened.”

  He was lying. He still had the same tell. His left eye opened wider than his right when he was hiding something back then. The same phenomenon was on display today.

  “I think we should call Grandpa out here,” I said to David, fixing him with a pointed look. “This is his restaurant. Has anyone bothered to tell him what’s going on?”

  “It’s after lunch,” Brad reminded me through the door. “He’s taking his post-lunch ... um ... constitutional.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant. “I don’t understand. Did he leave?”

  David let loose a low chuckle and shook his head. “He didn’t leave. He’s just ... taking his afternoon ... um ... bathroom break.”

  My cheeks burned under the sudden realization of what he was saying. “Oh, I ... .”

  “It’s a regular occurrence,” Brad explained. “It usually takes him an hour.”

  An hour? That couldn’t be healthy. “Maybe he should try eating something other than chili and onions for lunch,” I groused. Something occurred to me. “Wait, he’s not doing that in the guest restroom, is he?”

  “No,” Brad replied, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t do that to the customers.”

  “So, where ... ?” A horrible thought filled my head.

  “Sometimes he goes home,” David offered, his lips curving into a wide smile. “But his truck is still here, so I’m sure he felt the situation was more ... dire.”

  “That means he’s in my apartment,” I muttered, closing my eyes and shaking my head. When I opened them again, I found Hunter watching me with overt amusement. He was clearly enjoying himself. “It’s not funny.”

  “I didn’t say it was. I was just ... thinking.” He turned his attention back to the body. “What’s the deal with Roy and your grandfather? I always thought they were friends.”

  “Something happened about two years ago,” David replied. “They got in a fight while golfing or something. That’s the story I heard.”

  “I thought it was over a poker game,” Brad countered. “He tried to cheat Dad or something. At least that’s the story that was making the rounds a few weeks after.”

  “But they definitely weren’t friends any longer?” Hunter snapped on a pair of rubber gloves before lifting the collar of Roy’s shirt and getting a better look at the chaos underneath.

  “Roy still came in the restaurant every day,” Brad offered. “He was part of that morning coffee crew that liked to drink and gossip together.”

  “Your grandfather is the center of that crew.” Hunter said it more as a statement than a question. “That’s the way it was when I visited during high school.”

  His words struck a chord. “You haven’t come here since we were teenagers?”

  Hunter’s gaze slowly tracked back to me. “I’ve been in the restaurant. I just don’t visit very often.”

  I wanted to ask why, but that seemed invasive ... and completely beside the point given that we were standing over a dead body. Still, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings to know that he was avoiding the place because memories of our great high school love affair were too painful for him. What? It’s not like I want anything bad to happen to him or anything. I just want to believe he had been pining for me for ten years. That doesn’t seem like too much to ask for.

  “Go back to Roy,” Hunter ordered. “When was the last time you saw him with your grandfather? Was he in the restaurant this morning?”

  “I ... don’t know.” Brad slid his eyes to me. “Did you see him?”

  I shook my head. In truth, the morning rush had been so busy that I could barely focus on myself, let alone the other people in the restaurant. Getting used to the schedule was going to take some time. “I didn’t really look. I was busy dealing with other stuff.”

  “Yes, like the fact that you’re suddenly the world’s slowest waitress,” Brad drawled. “Do you think that’s because you became soft while you were away? I mean ... being an author is easier than being a waitress, right?”

  I pretended not to hear the question. “Isn’t Roy the guy Grandpa used to call an Axehole?”

  David snickered at the question. “Yeah. We all picked that up because it was a way to swear without getting in trouble. That was when they were supposedly friends. The relationship has always been a bit tempestuous.”

  “I’ll have to talk to your grandfather,” Hunter noted, his gaze on David rather than me. “He’ll have to answer questions, whether he likes it or not. Roy was obviously killed.”

  “How was he killed?” I asked. “I see the blood. It’s mixed with the water from the refrigerator system. He couldn’t have been out here all that long. People use the back door when they’re coming in before the morning shift. Someone would’ve seen him.”

  “Only if they came through this door,” David countered. “Most people go in through the other door because it’s more convenient. I think most of the staff ignores this door for the most part.”

  “So it’s possible he’s been out here for hours?” The notion didn’t sit well with me. “That doesn’t seem right.”

  “Right or not, it’s what we’re dealing with,” Hunter replied, retrieving his phone from his back pocket. “All I can say with any degree of certainty is that Roy was stabbed and I think it was sometime during the night. I have to get the medical examiner out here.”

  “So ... what should we do?” Brad asked. “I still need those pickles.”

  I wanted to choke him with the pickles but I managed to hold it together — just barely.

  “Go about your day,” Hunter replied. “You’ll have to avoid this area, but that’s it. I’m not sure how long we’ll be out here, but it’ll be a couple of hours at least.”

  That was not what I wanted to hear. “Are you going to want to question anyone?”

  Hunter nodded as his eyes briefly connected with mine before he turned back to Brad. “I’ll try not to disrupt your day too much, but I’ll need ten minutes with each employee.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” Brad flashed a smile. “The Republicans are tougher on crime. Did you know that?”

  Hunter nodded, unruffled. If he found my uncle’s response weird, he didn’t show it. “That’s great. I’ll start with Stormy.”

  Well, awesome.

  3

  Three

  Hunter had me sit at the picnic table behind the restaurant. He waited to join me until the medical examiner arrived and had taken control of the body.

  “Test these, too,” Hunter instructed, handing over the bag that contained my shoes. “One of the waitresses was leaving the restaurant and stepped in the blood.”

  The medical examiner nodded and absently took the bag. He was already focused on the body, and it seemed Hunter’s presence was an annoyance to him.

  I was still fuming about being dismissed as nothing more than a waitress when Hunter finally deigned to join me.

  “How long have you been back in town?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Two weeks. But I’ve been going back and forth between here and my old place on Harsens Island, so I only spent a few hours here between trips.”

  “I didn’t realize you were back in the state already.” He looked put out. “I guess your family failed to mention it.”

  “I wasn’t on Harsens Island very long. I was trying to get information for a book, but it didn’t pan out.”

  He eyed me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry about the book thing. I know how important that is to you.”

  “I don’t know if I w
ould say it was important,” I hedged. It was a ridiculous lie. If anyone knew how important writing was to me, it was Hunter. He’d sat around watching SportsCenter for two years while I scrawled hundreds of story ideas on napkins and in little notebooks I insisted on carrying around with me. Denying it now was bad form, but I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Right.” He held my gaze for a long beat and then heaved out a sigh. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with this, but I have to ask you some questions.”

  “Then I guess you have to ask them.” I rubbed at a food stain on my apron. “I didn’t think you wanted to be a cop. I mean ... after your father and everything I just assumed you were going to follow your dream and be a sportscaster. That’s what you always wanted.”

  His gaze was contemplative. “Not everybody gets to live their dreams, Stormy.” His voice was soft. “You got to, which is nice, but it was never a reality for me. My parents didn’t have the money to send me to an expensive school. I had very few options up here. One of the more reasonable ones was the police academy.”

  On the surface, that made sense. Still, it hurt me to think about what he wanted compared to where he’d ended up. “That doesn’t mean you had to stay here. You wanted to live in the city like me. You could’ve been a police officer anywhere.”

  “This is home.”

  “Yeah, but ... .”

  “You had big dreams about living in a city, too,” he countered, his eyes firing. “You’re right back here with me. You better than anyone should realize that some dreams aren’t meant to be.”

  The statement, however true, grated. “I’m still working on my writing. This is just temporary until I can figure things out.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with waitressing.”

  “That’s what people who don’t waitress say.” My temper flared. “It’s a hard job. Really hard. That’s why I wanted to do something else.”

  “You wanted to be a writer because you couldn’t keep your head in one place,” he corrected. “You liked visiting a million different locations, even if it was only in your dreams. You didn’t want this life. You wanted something more. I’m sorry it didn’t happen for you.”