Chapter 20
My grandmothers were not at the Elks Lodge. I wanted to feel relief, but I didn’t. The fact that they weren’t where they were supposed to be didn’t surprise me, but it didn’t sit right either. Where had they gone?
I drove over the pass and called Aiden, reaching his voicemail.
The guy was probably already in the air.
“Hey, it’s me. I really need you to do that deep dive on Zippy O’Bellini.
Right now. Both of my grandmas know him, and there’s some bad history there.
I don’t know what it is, but I’m concerned. ” I clicked off.
Brickhouse usually accompanied Aiden to work, so I knew he was okay at home for a little while.
The rain started to fall harder. By the time I drove into Timber City and parked in the back lot behind my office, the drops were pounding against the roof.
I grabbed my bag, jogged up the slick steps, and slipped inside my office.
The building was silent now, that hollow after-hours quiet when the workday is over and every sound echoes.
“Excuse me.”
I turned just as Brooke Walton came up the stairs, her breath quick and her cheeks flushed from the rain. “Hold the door, would you?”
I caught it and stepped aside. “Clark isn’t here,” I said, noticing his light was off.
Brooke stepped inside the reception area and looked at the empty doorway, her shoulders sagging. She wore a pink raincoat buttoned to the collar, shiny black boots, and a baseball cap that dripped water onto the mat. “Do you know where he is?”
“No. I just got back to the office.” It had to be around six at night, so maybe he’d gone to get dinner. I studied her.
Even damp and windblown, she looked striking. It wasn’t hard to see why Clark had been interested.
“I suppose you don’t like me,” she said.
I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “I don’t know you. I don’t appreciate your aunt suing my grandma, and I think anyone who’d say no to dating Clark Bunne is crazy. But I’m sure you have your reasons.”
Since we were just standing there in the reception area, I took off my coat, shook out the rain, and hung it on the rack.
“It’s not that I don’t like Clark,” she murmured, unbuttoning her jacket. “It’s that I don’t want to be tied down with one guy.”
I frowned. “I think maybe you’ll want to when you find the right one. I don’t understand it because he’s awesome, but maybe Clark isn’t the right guy for you.”
“Well, he’s not the right guy for you either,” she said. “Are you still hot and heavy with Devlin?”
“That’s a good point.”
She tilted her head. “Have you and Clark ever—”
“No,” I said before she could finish. “We’ve been colleagues from the start, then friends.” Honestly, I couldn’t see any other man but Aiden in my life. And even if I could, there’s no way Clark would date me.
There was no need to explain that Clark had once seen me covered in cremated remains. That was a story that didn’t need repeating. “So why are you here?” I asked.
She fiddled with a button on her coat. “I just wanted to make things right with him.”
Before I could answer, the door opened and Henry Johnston walked in, shaking rain off his shoulders. “Hey, I have information.” He stopped short when he saw Brooke. “Well, hello.” He extended a hand, that grin spreading. “Henry Johnston. Process server.”
“Brooke Walton,” she said, shaking his hand quickly before taking a step back.
“You are gorgeous,” Henry said without missing a beat.
“Thanks.” She smiled at him but then turned to me. “Any chance you want to grab a drink?”
I blinked, surprised. “I would, but I have other plans.” That was a lie, but getting involved in Clark’s private life was not on my to-do list. It would only tick him off.
“I’ll go have a drink with you, gorgeous,” Henry said, puffing out his chest. His jacket clung slightly, and he’d grown a few whiskers since I’d seen him earlier.
“Another time, I think,” Brooke said primly. “If you can find me.” She turned and walked out the door without another word.
Well, the woman knew how to issue a challenge and flirt. I had to give her that. “Henry, our office is closed,” I said.
He shuffled his feet, water dripping off his too-long pants. “I was hoping we could have a business arrangement. You know, come to some sort of deal.”
I should’ve just gone home instead of stopping by the office. “What kind of business arrangement?”
He puffed out his chest. “I figure you all need a process server.” He pulled out a slightly bent business card and handed it over.
I looked down to read it: Henry Johnston, Process Server and Investigator. “Uh-huh,” I said slowly.
“Yes,” he said eagerly. “I do investigations on the side.” He smiled, and for a brief second, it almost made him look more appealing. Not by much, but effort counted for something.
“I appreciate it, but we already have a process server,” I said. “And believe me, I’ve got more detectives than I know what to do with right now.”
His bony hand reached out and patted my arm. “How about I tell you the trial plan Zippy has in place against your grandmother?”
My head tilted. “How would you even know that?”
“I told you, I’ve been working for the guy.” Henry stood even taller. “For, I don’t know, five hundred bucks, I’ll tell you exactly what he’s got planned.”
I shook my head. “Henry, I can send discovery requests and get his evidence legally.”
His face fell, mouth drooping. “Oh. Well, I didn’t know that.”
“Of course you didn’t.” I crossed my arms.
He squinted at me. “So… are you going to go out with me or not?”
“Not.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. When Devlin dumps your ass, give me a call.”
“I’ll make sure to do that,” I said evenly.
He paused in the doorway. “Where is Devlin, anyway? I’d like to have a talk with him.”
My brows rose. “You would? About what?”
“You,” he said simply. “You’re one hottie, and he shouldn’t dump you. But he’s going to, so I just want some heads-up.”
I couldn’t believe this man. “Aiden’s out of town right now, but I’ll make sure he calls you the second he gets back.”
“Where is he?”
“Goodbye, Henry.” I gestured firmly toward the door.
Henry gave an exaggerated sigh and stepped outside. I locked the door behind him before he could change his mind and wander back in.
I walked back through the office toward my desk. I’d already filed the Answer for Nana’s case, but I wanted to draft discovery requests before the weekend.
I sat down, booted up my computer, and worked for a couple of hours, losing myself in the rhythm of legalese and coffee. Eventually, I stretched, rolling my shoulders until they popped.
I needed to go home, let Brickhouse out, and find something edible that didn’t come from a vending machine.
I wished Aiden were coming home tonight.
The thought made the office feel even emptier.
I put on my coat, shut everything down, and double-checked the locks before heading outside.
The rain had softened into a mist, beading on my hair as I crossed the lot to my car.
The Fiat was cold inside, the leather seat stiff and smelling faintly of oil and rainwater.
As I pulled out of the lot, my phone buzzed in the cup holder. My sister Donna’s face lit the screen.
“Hey, Donna,” I said, putting the call on speaker. “What’s up?”
Maybe she’d made dinner, though that was wishful thinking. Donna’s cooking was hit-or-miss—mostly miss.
“Luanne just called me from the Clumsy Penguin,” she said without preamble. I could hear the crunch of tires beneath her car as she drove. “Nana and Nonna are there. Doing shots.”
I almost hit the brakes. “Wait, what? Shots?”
“Yup. Luanne says they’ve been at it for hours. They’re loaded.”
“Oh, God.” I rubbed my forehead. “They came all the way over from the valley to drink?”
A horn honked across the line. “Apparently.”
I flipped the car around. “I’ll meet you there. I think Tessa stayed over in the valley tonight. Should we call anybody else?”
“Move it, truck,” Donna bellowed. “Don’t call anybody. Let’s figure out what’s going on before we drag the rest of the family into this.”
“Good plan.” I hit the gas, following the familiar winding road around the lake toward the Clumsy Penguin. The wipers squeaked against the windshield as the headlights bounced off the wet pavement.
When I finally pulled into the parking lot, Donna was just getting out of her SUV. She slammed the door, and we both ran through the rain toward the entrance.
Inside, the place was loud, full of that humid warmth that comes from fried food and spilled beer. Luanne waved frantically from the far end of the bar. We hurried over.
Sure enough, Nana O’Shea stood confidently behind the bar, shaking a bag of chicken wings in flour and spices like she owned the place. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was slightly off-center, and she was humming a tune that might’ve been “Danny Boy.”
Nonna sat on a stool on the customer side, chewing on a maraschino cherry. “Girls. How nice of you to join us.” Her eyes were bright and her words just a touch slurred.
“Oh, crap,” I muttered, looking over the bar. “Nana, what are you doing?”
Luanne threw her hands up, exasperated. “I’ve asked her to move out from behind the bar several times.”
Nana didn’t even look up. “This is a much better way to coat the wings, dear. Especially with the green accents to celebrate the holiday. Watch.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Luanne backed away.
“Nana,” I said, moving closer.
She looked up, smiling widely. “Oh, hello, Anna. And Donna too. How nice of you to join us.”
She must not have heard Nonna say the exact same thing seconds earlier. Her cheeks glowed crimson, and her green eyes appeared bloodshot.
Donna leaned in and whispered, “They’re hammered.”
I nodded grimly, watching Nana proudly dust her hands and reach for another bag of wings.
We were going to need divine intervention, or a gallon of coffee, to get those two out of there alive.
“How much have you had to drink?” Donna asked, her voice tight.