“That’s my hope.” He bit into the sandwich and nearly sighed. “This is great.” He reached for the napkin as melted cheese overflowed the bread. “Have plans for your Friday night?”
“Bruce invited me over to see his place; he’s been offering all week and it’s finally fit the flow of the days for me to go over.”
“I like his place; you will too, I bet.”
“That’s likely.” Rae spotted Mark Yates, the union worker who had given her directions to the café her first day in town, coming their direction. She got to her feet. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say hi.”
Nathan had seen Mark coming as well and lifted a hand in greeting. “I’m going to remember this sandwich. Thanks, Rae. You can find me anytime.”
“I plan to often; you’re going to make my job in this town easier, and food is a great way to earn a favor or two. I took Sillman cheeseburgers and fries— I think if he wasn’t already married he would have kissed me.”
Nathan laughed. “Sitting out at a crime scene freezing, I’d kiss you.”
Rae smiled back at the teasing, wondering how much of that emotion in his eyes was not teasing, and left Nathan to his job.
Rae walked back toward her car. She was trying hard to stay out of Nathan’s investigation now. Three deaths had her convinced it was a cop matter and not something she wanted to cross into. Other than confirming that Karen and Nella were deaths unrelated to Peggy’s so she could reassure Peggy’s parents, she was content to stay out of the way unless there was something specific she could do that would help Nathan out.
Sillman wasn’t going to be an easy relationship to develop; he wasn’t keen to have a private investigator anywhere near a police case, but she was determined to soften the ground to at least make it friendly territory. Sillman would probably be surprised to find how much she agreed with him. She didn’t particularly want to be back in cop business either, not the way the luck of her past ran.
She looked at her watch. She was still early for going over to meet Bruce.
She had been in town a week. Given everything that had happened in that span of time, it felt so much longer. She would never have imagined she would be on a first-name basis with so many people by now. She almost felt comfortable in this town. What would it be like after she had lived in Justice for a month? She began to hope that Bruce was right and that maybe this town would begin to feel like home.
25
Bruce had bought himself a small-town mansion. From the street the house looked like something from another era. Rae let her car coast to a pause at the curb so she could better study the place.
Two stories, square, with big pillars on a porch wrapping around three sides of the house—architecturally she thought it was maybe early 1900s. The home sat on a corner lot, with a spacious yard stretching in all directions, the trees towering above showing off a hundred years of sturdy growth. Big. Built by someone who had money even in that day.
One guy. Bruce must have walked around that much space and just laughed and said I’ll buy it. Hardwood floors throughout, she bet, and probably an updated kitchen. She knew Bruce. He wasn’t a man for small increments. Retire, get out of cramped one-room undercover apartments, and step up right to this. She smiled. She was glad for him.
Rae pulled into the driveway and parked on the other side of the drive from Bruce’s car. Knowing her friend, she figured the garage had already been transformed inside into a comfortable workshop for his reconditioned Jaguar.
She opened the backseat door of her car and retrieved the gift. The walkway had been swept off. She balanced her housewarming gift in her arms as she walked in the dusting of snow toward the back door. Bruce had decorated the porch to make it more like front door number two, with a big wreath and welcome sign.
The door opened before she reached it. Bruce laughed and stepped out onto the porch. “Next time remind me to qualify the invitation to just being one guest.”
“You remember George?”
He grinned. “How could I forget?” He reached for her gift, so she could walk up the stairs with a hand free for the railing. “What did you do, go unpack those boxes your movers neatly put into storage just to find him?”
“Just a couple of the biggest boxes. A tall neck, you know.”
The giraffe was straining his attempts to get it inside the door. “I think I’m honored. Or speechless. Maybe something in between there. What brought this to mind?”
“Those county-fair pictures. We had to tie him to the roof of the car the night you won it.”
“I remember.”
Rae stepped inside the house after him and pulled off her gloves. “Never say I forget a promise. I said we’d share him. Since I’ve had him a decade, I thought he could keep you company. He can be a hat stand or something and be useful.”
Bruce draped his arm across the giraffe’s body. “No need; he’s a conversation starter, and that will do just fine as his purpose in life. Make yourself at home; I’m going to give this guy a place of honor in the main hall.”
She looked around the open kitchen they had entered. “Go. I like the idea of exploring.”
Bruce disappeared through one of the two doorways. “I picked up all my socks in your honor,” he called back. “There’s hot cider or hot chocolate. Take a mug with you.”
Rae pulled off her coat and hung it next to Bruce’s on the coat tree by the door. The kitchen was at least twenty-by-thirty, with tall windows filling the room with natural lighting, and she had to look way up to see the ceiling. When the house was originally built, this must have been where the family spent a lot of time, and while it had been modernized, they’d left in the character.
A fireplace in the far wall had above it a baker’s oven, and two big ranges were reproductions of the original cast-iron stoves. Heat would have risen with the high ceilings and left the work areas at least functional back in the days before air-conditioning. The big island in the middle of the room was a new addition, a place for barstools at the counter, while a nice table still held the place of honor by the windows for enjoying the view.
Bruce had their dinner well under way. The two skillets on the stove were simmering, occasionally blowing steam around the covering lids. The cutting board had chopped lettuce in the works, and plastic bags held vegetables yet to wash.
Rae fixed herself a huge mug of hot chocolate from the pot on the stove and carried the mug with her as she went to explore. She knew Bruce was leaving her to the first look on her own for a reason. She’d already seen the first small items she remembered from their past, from the sun catcher on the window to the mug he was using for his own hot cider.
She smiled as she ran her hand through the tassels of the hat hung on the wall leading into the dining room, remembering when he had bought it. She wandered into the dining room and over to his grandmother’s hutch to see what new items he had acquired over the years.
* * *
She found Bruce working at the kitchen island, grating cheese, a bowl of diced tomatoes already done. Rae wrapped her arm around him and hugged his back, resting her face against the rough fabric of his shirt and closing her eyes for a moment; then she pinched some of the cheese he was grating and moved on. She loved what he had created in his house. “Mexican for dinner?”
“Yes.” He looked over his shoulder. He didn’t ask. He went back to working on dinner.
He made great Mexican meals. She opened the refrigerator. “What do you think? Hot salsa or mild?”
“Stay mild.”
Rae pulled the glass jar from the third shelf. “It’s strange, seeing you settled in a house. Don’t get me wrong; I love this place, it’s just so—” She laughed. “Well, settled. You’ve even got matching towels in the kitchen.”
Bruce turned down the heat under the skillet. “Those I can’t take credit for. The lady who sold me the house left me some of her household goods. She was downscaling to a nursing home and I promised to give things away that I didn’t personally need. T
ry the tall cupboard for tortilla chips, either there or the bread drawer next to it.”
“Found them.” Rae dumped the salsa into a large bowl and opened the bag of chips. She perched on a barstool and watched him work while she started on the salsa and chips. “This kitchen is larger than my first couple apartments.”
“I’m learning to appreciate having two dishwashers. The lady loved to entertain.”
“Your game room—now that is classy. That pool table looks new.”
“Something to keep you entertained. I looked at that old parlor with its high ceilings and hardwood floors and just knew what had to go in there.” He added the next round of seasonings to the meat and turned his attention to chopping onions. “We need to get you out of that hotel soon so you can have a settled life again.”
“The house out east will hopefully get an acceptable offer this month; then I’ll see. I like what I’ve seen of this neighborhood. It’s quiet?”
“Yes. It’s mostly families with grown kids. A few newly married couples. Not much in between. The homes are old, but they are obviously spacious. And nicely affordable compared to where you have been living. I could do with a little less yard to mow though.”
“I think I’d like something a little more on the edge.”
“You’ll get into enough trouble with the job. You don’t need to be courting trouble with where you live. I meant to ask—did you get the carry permit today?”
“I did. I’m carrying my old Chicago PD backup piece until I get something a little more modern.”
“I suppose it won’t blow up in your face, but that’s about all it’s worth.”
“I don’t intend to ever pull it from its holster. Have you ever needed your weapon since you became a private investigator?”
“Nope. But then I rarely needed it when I was a cop, either.”
“True.” She turned a chip to rescue a tomato chunk in the salsa. “I’m thinking I might go to town and work on the Ferrari tomorrow if you could give me a lift. A few more hours and I should have it ready to drive home. I got the insurance on it put into effect today.”
“I can give you a lift. But do you really think you can get it clean enough to drive?”
“Frank already has the bulk of the cleanup done, and my uncle finished the metal work. The rest is just cleaning the thousands of crevices the blood managed to soak into.”
“A very appetizing thought. We’ll change the subject until after we eat.”
She smiled but agreed. “Talk to me about your day.”
“Not the most fascinating topic you could have chosen, but we’ll get it out of the way anyway,” Bruce replied easily. “I spent the morning handing out my card and trolling for information on the handguns. A reward isn’t working nor is a mild threat out on the street. If someone local was the thief, he’s wisely letting them cool off before he tries to move them. After that turned into a waste of my time, I made some more progress tracking down Mrs. Elan’s half sister. The late afternoon I spent tailing Nathan’s grandfather—or trying to. He’s been visiting a lot of the guys in the union.”
“What’s going on with Nathan’s grandfather?”
“Over the last year Henry has bought himself a couple new vehicles, both with cash. One of them is a very pricey Porsche and the other a new pickup truck that wasn’t cheap either. I’ve been trying to figure out for Nathan where the cash is coming from. There’s no obvious source for the income.”
“Can’t you just ask him?”
“He’s not saying. We’re not trying to stop Henry from spending his cash; we’re just trying to figure out where the cash is coming from. He was the sheriff of this town before Nathan’s dad; he’s not a wealthy man. Some things are so obviously in your face that the question has to be asked.”
“What have you decided so far?”
“I’ve ruled out a cashed-in life-insurance policy, sold land, stocks. He’s gambling—that’s my latest hunch.”
“He’d be what, in his eighties?”
“Eighty.”
“Has he ever gambled before in his life?”
“Not that I can find. But there isn’t hidden wealth buried in that family history just waiting to appear.”
“Henry’s wife?”
“She passed away last year. A schoolteacher from a reasonably middle-class family the next county over. The money isn’t coming from her side of the estate.”
“So a grown man just suddenly starts gambling at a level that provides cash for expensive cars? Bruce, you know that’s not it—you lose more than you win when you gamble. Unless you’re telling me he cashed in a winning lotto ticket.”
“Not that I’ve been able to identify. What would you suggest?”
“He found the cash.”
Bruce set down the knife he was using to dice the onions. “Found it.”
“It makes more sense than won it. Maybe he found a buried coffee can of old gold coins on his land; maybe a former homeowner left behind a letter signed by Abraham Lincoln under the floorboards. People come into things of great value all the time. That’s why they are called discoveries.”
Rae shrugged. “Maybe it’s as simple as the fact the man tossed his change into a barrel all his life and he finally got around to cashing in all that loose change. I heard a guy once cashed in twenty thousand dollars worth of pennies.”
“Henry has been hanging out with Bob Teal lately. The man is the former president of the local bank.”
“So maybe the man got some good financial advice fifty years ago and took it. Did you ever think Henry might have just turned eighty and decided it was time to spend rather than save some of his lifetime earnings? His family doesn’t need the cash; his wife has passed away—it’s time to live a little.”
“I’m all for that answer. I’m just afraid it’s not going to be something that neat.”
“Unless you think he just became a criminal and the cash came from something illegal.” She looked up from the chip and salsa she held and saw his expression. “Bruce. Don’t even go there. I can see by the silence you aren’t discounting that idea.”
“The former sheriff is at home in this community. He knows where every secret is buried.”
“The man has Nathan for a grandson; he’ll be honest to the point of being squeaky clean. I personally vote for the buckets of change getting cashed in. You want me to ask him?”
“He’s already pretty much told both Nathan and me to mind our own business.”
“I ask nicer than you do.”
“You can have a run at him if you like. It can’t hurt.”
“He drives a Porsche? He’s got a nice eye for a good car.”
“You’ll have something in common.”
“True.” Rae accepted the plate Bruce handed across to her.
“Don’t wait for me; these are best eaten while the wrap is still warm.”
“I don’t plan to.” The soft tacos were going to be a mess to eat, but she loved them. She found herself extra napkins and moved from the island over to the kitchen table. She pulled out a chair. “What did you hear about Nella?”
“Not much different than this afternoon—Sillman was still searching the house and the coroner was busy with tests.”
“Personally, I’m guessing she was murdered by a boyfriend.”
“Facts or hunch?”
“Pure hunch,” Rae replied. “It just felt like a personal death. She lives out in the middle of nowhere. Someone had to want to go to Nella’s house.”
“It’s not going to be natural causes?”
“Three times in a row?” Rae shook her head. “At least one of these is a murder. And Nella would be the likely fit.”
“The rumor at the diner is that she was seeing a much younger guy.”
“Any basis for that rumor?”
“Not that I could tell.”
Rae smiled. “The blessings of a small town—rumors circulate themselves into becoming facts.”
Bruce brought ov
er a plate for himself. “What time do you want to head into the city tomorrow?”
“Early, if you don’t mind. Say nine.”
“That will work for me. Assuming you get home tonight in a reasonable time to get some sleep.”
Rae laughed. “I’ve missed these Friday nights together. Nothing ever quite replaced them in those years away.”
“I’m hoping there are many more of them to come. I even bought a pie for dessert.”
“Great planning.”
* * *
Rae settled into the leather couch in Bruce’s living room, extending her sock feet to absorb the heat coming from the fireplace. “This is perfection. Moon out, snow on the ground, a cozy couch to disappear into while you watch some television. You’ve got a very nice place, Bruce.”
“You look good right there.” He settled into the big chair at an angle to the couch. “You’d best make it a habit to come over often.”
She set her mug of hot chocolate down on the floor rug within easy reach. “I’m good at making myself at home.” She leaned her head against the cushioned back and studied the ceiling. She laughed. “I’m so tired it feels like part of the world is spinning in circles.”
“It’s been an intense week since you drove into town, and I did mention you might want to go easy on those hot peppers.”
“I know, but I love them so.” She listened to her own heartbeat for a while as her socks warmed up, then found the energy to move again and look over at him. “Where are we going, Bruce? You and I?”
He considered her. “Someplace interesting, I suspect. We know each other, Rae. You want to move slowly; you also just want to be done with this transition and be back on stable ground. So you’ll ignore the caution you feel and knock down the historical stuff fast and sort out the pieces of what you find after you see them all.”
“You do know me.”
“Still like you too.” He smiled. “Drink your chocolate; no use letting good stuff go cold.”
She reached for the mug. “That’s one of the things I missed most about our Friday nights—the hot chocolate and the pie and the conversations that disappeared into the dust corners of unimportant topics, but never seemed to end no matter the hours we’d already talked.”
Before I Wake Page 20
