Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Alexandru
Ms. Renfield takes another swig of beer and sets it down with enough force that some of it splashes over the rim. “I’m not kidding around about her. Off-limits.”
“There are other people on my shortlist,” I say. “Plenty to last me.”
Ms. Renfield follows my gaze to Officer Cooper, striding out the front door of Tres Hermanas with a large takeout bag stamped with the restaurant’s logo.
He spots us instantly. Despite the look I shoot him, pointed and warning, he pivots and heads our way.
“Groan,” Ms. Renfield mutters.
There’s a little fence with flower boxes all around the patio, and Maverick stops on the other side, his jaw tight. “I trust the two of you are enjoying a nice evening,” he says, voice clipped. “One entirely free of interfering in active police investigations?”
“We are enjoying a very nice evening,” Ms. Renfield replies tauntingly. “Thank you for asking.”
“I’m not kidding,” he says. “It’s my job to keep people safe, and I can’t do that if private citizens go around trying to solve crimes they have no business with.”
“Her safety is not your concern,” I inform him. “Anyone who moves against her will have instant regrets. Regrets that they never knew they could have.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Maverick asks, voice low.
“Nothing,” Ms. Renfield says. “Are you making any headway on identifying who purchased that device?”
Maverick frowns. “I’d be happy to answer that, Harriet, as soon as you let me know your badge number.”
“Because we have it narrowed down to three suspects,” she says.
I sit up, surprised at this. What is Ms. Renfield doing?
“I’m telling you, Harriet,” Maverick warns, but he’s brimming with curiosity.
She gives me a significant glance. There’s an energy about her that is not unpleasant. She turns back to Maverick.
“Suspect number one is Whitney Sternell.”
“Whitney?” Maverick balks.
She tilts her head slyly. “No? Our second suspect is Kip Kidderson.”
She waits. Maverick stands there frowning, surprised and suspicious. He does not think Kip makes a viable suspect.
Of course, I see what she’s doing.
“Our third and final suspect is Harlan Delmere.”
Maverick barks out a laugh that does nothing to conceal the shock that flows from him, as well as anger and a bit of loathing laced with fear, but it’s a protective fear. Is it fear for Ms. Renfield?
“I’ll have to give you points for creativity,” Maverick says coolly.
“Being that every single piece of evidence points toward the Snag Tooth Riders. Do you have some sort of evidence for your so-called suspects? Because if you have evidence and you’re withholding it from me, we’re gonna have problems.”
“I’d have to get your badge number first,” Ms. Renfield says.
“I mean it about withholding evidence,” he says.
She grins. “Okay.”
Maverick frowns. He wants to know more about why we suspect Harlan, but he’s clever enough to see he won’t get it—not without giving something up himself.
“Look, if I catch you two trotting around and harassing citizens, that’s something I might have to haul you in for.
” He knocks twice on the edge of the flower box.
“Don’t make me do it.” With that, he strolls off.
I pick up my glass and gaze at the bubbly amber liquid.
“Anything?” she asks me.
“Fishing without a plan. How very unlike you, Ms. Renfield.”
“I know! It is so unlike me. But what the hell, we did it with Whitney. Why not Maverick? Because I can’t stop thinking about Harlan. What did you think?”
“Clumsily done,” I say, but I did rather enjoy being surprised by her.
“Oh, wow, thanks,” she says sarcastically. “Did you get anything?”
“Your Maverick Cooper does not believe it could be Whitney or Kip.”
“He’s not my Maverick Cooper.”
Was he hers? There’s something there.
“What about Harlan? Did Maverick have feelings about Harlan?”
“Oh, yes. Surprise. Righteous anger. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a bit of fear for your safety.” I set my glass neatly in the center of my napkin. “It’s as if the man is completely unaware of your throat-stabbing skills.”
Ms. Renfield narrows her eyes at me. “So, do you think he actually suspects Harlan? Or just fears and loathes him?”
“He was surprised that you would think to name him,” I say. “He’s not surprised at Harlan being involved. I feel like Harlan’s name was already there for him as a suspect.”
Her smile is wide and infectious. “Are you saying my little trick worked?”
I sigh. “I suppose it did. You now know that the police have their eye on Harlan. At least a little bit.”
She leans back in her chair, the lantern light skimming over her cheek. The quiet contentment in her expression is oddly pleasing.