CHAPTER FIVE
Spencer
Friday night I decided cooking dinner wasn’t something I was willing to do, but I had to eat, so I headed to the Rusty Anchor. I was working on a beer and a basket of fried cod when I noticed something interesting near the end of the bar.
Tess Barlow was on shift. She was behind the bar, pulling a draft for one of the regulars, but every few minutes, she’d drift toward the service end of the bar where Gil Moran was sitting on a stool, nursing what looked like a whiskey.
They’d talk, voices low, their heads close together. At one point, Tess put her hand on his.
Nobody else seemed to notice or care what they were up to. The bar was busy enough that a bartender chatting with a customer didn’t draw attention. But I noticed, because noticing things was a skill I’d never been able to turn off, even when I wanted to.
It was possible I was misreading what was going on between them.
It could have been innocent. Old friends, shared grief, two people who knew Eddie and were processing the loss together.
But I didn’t think that was what was going on.
Something about the way Tess angled her shoulders toward him.
The way Gil’s eyes tracked her when she moved down the bar to serve someone else.
The look in their eyes wasn’t grief. It was something else entirely.
I also happened to know that Tess was married to a man who would not handle his wife’s infidelity well.
Craig Barlow wasn’t the kind of man who’d accept the news of his wife cheating on him with a calm conversation or a visit to a therapist’s couch.
I’d seen the guy. He was built like a brick wall and had a history of settling disagreements with his fists.
Gil sleeping with a married woman might have been the kind of thing Eddie didn’t approve of.
Was that maybe what had caused friction between Eddie and Gil?
Had Eddie told Gil to knock it off? Stop messing with a married woman?
I didn’t know if Eddie was the kind of friend who’d butt into the personal life of his buddy or not.
Some guys would say something, but many wouldn’t.
They’d figure it was their pal’s problem if he got his ass kicked for messing with a married woman.
But was that the kind of disagreement that would make Eddie sit up at night, brooding in the dark? I wasn’t sure.
I ate my fish and kept my eyes mostly on the TV above the bar.
Occasionally, I’d check in to see if Gil and Tess were still flirting.
They were, but around 8:00 p.m., Craig Barlow made an appearance, and Gil slipped quietly out of the restaurant.
Tess greeted her husband with a nervous smile and hug, and he sat near the spot where Gil had been.
He was a big guy, dark hair with an undercut, and a thick, but neatly trimmed beard.
His biceps were as big as my thighs and covered in nautical tattoos.
He worked as a deckhand on one of the busier fishing boats.
I was mopping up tartar sauce with my last piece of cod when the door opened and Declan Hale walked in.
I couldn’t deny my pulse did a little fluttery thing at the sight of him.
He was out of uniform again, instead wearing jeans and a gray pullover.
He scanned the room, clocking the exits and the people.
When his eyes landed on me sitting at the bar, his mouth gave a funny little quirk.
Then he shocked me by heading in my direction.
He took the stool next to mine. “Good evening, Spencer.”
I sat up straighter. “Uh, hi, Chief.” I was very aware of the quick brush of his leg against mine as he settled on his stool.
“I’m off duty.” He laughed. “You can call me Declan.”
“All right then.” I cleared my throat. “Declan, can I buy you a beer?”
He hesitated. “I’m not going to discuss the Eddie Salcedo case with you.”
“I know that.” I scowled. “I’m just being sociable.” Hadn’t he been the one who came over to sit with me?
He glanced at my nearly empty mug. “Are you having another?”
“I was going to.”
“Then, sure.” He seemed to relax. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” I signaled Tess and ordered two draft beers.
We sat in a sort of awkward silence. I don’t think either of us knew what to say if we weren’t going to talk about the case.
The jukebox was playing Don’t Do Me Like That by Tom Petty, and a group near the pool table erupted in laughter over something.
Wracking my brain for something to say, I came up with, “You eat yet?” I wasn’t sure why I felt so tongue-tied around him. I was usually someone who could talk to anyone about anything.
“No. I couldn’t seem to find the time.” He gave a sheepish grin. “I was going to just grab something out of the vending machine at the station, but then decided maybe I should eat something besides granola bars and Doritos.”
I grimaced. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound healthy.”
“You look fit.” He ran his gaze over my body, but he did it quickly, not in a lecherous way. “Are you a health food nut?”
I laughed outright at that. “Um, no. Not by a long shot.”
Glancing at my plate, he nodded. “Ah, yes, I see you had the fish and chips.”
“Yep. That’s what I always get when I come here.” Why was I volunteering that? I doubted he cared.
He glanced at my half-eaten cod. “I tend to get the bacon cheeseburger when I come here for dinner.”
“Gee.” I smirked. “What a surprise. We have different tastes. Who’d have thought?”
He smiled and asked Tess for a glass of ice water as she passed by.
I cocked one brow. “Water? You have a beer on the way.”
He shrugged. “I need to pace myself.”
“Why?” I laughed.
“Who knows?” he said, looking like he was trying not to laugh. “Maybe you’ll try to get me drunk and pump me for info about Eddie’s death.”
“Wow.” I shook my head. “That is some serious shade right out of the gate.”
He chuckled, and when Tess brought our beers, he ordered the bacon cheeseburger. And then, somehow, just like that, we were having dinner together.
The conversation was stilted at first, but after Declan got his second beer down, he seemed to relax.
He made a few jokes and told a couple of amusing stories about working for CCPD after being with PPD for so long.
How going from having eight hundred plus sworn officers in Portland to six here in Coral Cove had been an adjustment.
“How many years did you work for PPD?” I asked, enjoying the gentle buzz I had going on.
I knew it was a bad idea to enjoy Declan’s company too much.
But I couldn’t seem to help it. There were so few attractive guys to talk to in Coral Cove, and Declan wasn’t just eye candy, he was funny and smart too.
“Twelve years.” He took a pull of his beer. “Homicide, the last four years.”
“Ouch. That’s a heavy beat.”
“It was.” He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push. There was something in the flatness of those two words that hinted he didn’t want to talk about it.
“What about you?” he asked. “Seven years at the Tribune, right?”
I set my beer down hard. “How would you know that?”
He laughed. “I didn’t. Officer Nakamura knew. She’s friends with your boss at the Beacon.”
I wondered briefly if she was the friend in the department who Margot had mentioned the other day. “Okay, that makes way more sense. I wouldn’t think you knew much about me other than that I’m supposedly a cop hater.”
“I don’t think you hate cops,” he said.
“You cop friends back in Portland would disagree.”
He sighed and turned to face me. His brown eyes were very serious as he said, “One thing I learned recently is that you can’t care what other people think of you. They’ll think shit about you regardless of what you do. You have to live your life how you want. No regrets.”
I studied him because that wasn’t the kind of thing you just said. That sentiment came from living through something. “Is that how you live your life?”
He held up his fingers as if showing me a tiny measurement. “I’m getting there. Progress has been slow, but steady.”
“At least you’re making progress.”
He smiled. “That’s right. Any progress is good progress.”
I pulled my gaze from his and poked at the condensation on my glass. “So what I’m gathering is you came here to find yourself.”
“Gawd, no.” He winced. “Don’t put it like that or I might go back to Portland.”
I laughed. “Okay, how about you define it for me.”
He lifted one shoulder. “I came here to live life on my terms. I already know who I am. I’m comfortable with who I am. I just want to be authentic to that version.” He exhaled. “Plus, I was sick and tired of murder cases. I needed a change. It was so damn depressing.”
“Yeah, there was a lot of depressing shit in Portland.” I wanted to ask him if he was working on a murder case now, but controlled myself.
He studied me, his expression assessing. “You did some good things in Portland, though. You rooted out some real corruption.”
I sighed and said without thinking, “Yeah, and it cost me a three-year relationship.” I winced inwardly, wishing I could take the words back the second they were out. I didn’t want to ruin our lighthearted vibe when we were getting along so well.
“Yeah,” Declan said quietly. “I know how that goes.”
Surprised, I asked, “The job ate your relationship too?”
“The job ate everything.” He said it without self-pity. “I wasn’t good at being a boyfriend and a cop at the same time. Something had to give, and it was always the relationship part.”
“How long were you together?”
“The last one was two years. It ended about a year before I came here.” He paused. “She said I was never really present. Even when I was in the room, I was somewhere else. Working a case in my head. She was right.”