Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Aquick scan of Rob’s kitchen turned up pasta noodles, a can of sauce, and a frozen loaf of French bread.
All that was missing was fresh salad, but if I didn’t have to go back outside, it was a small price to pay.
As a bonus, I could make everything in about twenty minutes as soon as Rob let me know he was on his way back home.
That thought pulled me up short. Home. It wasn’t my home, not really. But it could be. Somehow, it landed heavier than I would have liked. I’d grown so attached to my apartment. To my space. To my little shop. I didn’t know how I felt about leaving that.
“No point worrying about that egg until it hatches,” I mumbled.
“What?” Millie asked.
“Oh, just thinking about the future. Where this is going with Rob. I don’t know how I would feel about giving up my independence. But I want to be with him. Argh... I need to think about something else.”
“It would be awkward,” Millie said, following me as I took the rest of my tea to the kitchen table. “We wouldn’t be able to talk freely anymore. Just when he wasn’t around.”
The tea was cold on my tongue and bitter. I made a face and put the cup down.
“I know. Oh, Millie. I don’t know what to do.”
She hopped onto the table and gave me a serious look.
“When the time comes, we’ll do what’s right. That’s what we do.”
“Spoken like someone in an epic fantasy,” I said, remembering Rob’s words. “But always good advice. I just wish I could do something. I can’t stand just sitting here while he’s out there interviewing suspects. And I wish I knew why my radar keeps pinging about Natalie.”
“Well, you brought your laptop, didn’t you?” Millie said, stretching out on half the table. “You could do a little background snooping while we wait.”
I sprang up and kissed her on the head.
“Genius cat. I’d be lost without you. Let’s make some more tea and do a little digging. Great idea.”
“No tea for me, please,” Millie said, her eyes following me as I went back to the stove. “Nasty stuff.”
I snorted as I refreshed the kettle and turned the burner on.
“You should try coffee. Honestly, now that I’m getting used to drinking tea, I don’t know how I ever drank the stuff. Unless it’s drowning in milk and sugar, that is.”
“Humans.”
While the water heated, I walked back to the bedroom and grabbed my laptop out of my bag. Once my tea was done, I brought it back to the table and opened the computer.
“Where to start?”
“Hmm,” Millie said, between licks of her flank as she groomed her fur. “Who was the author she said she was helping?”
“Ryan Dullington.”
“Well, I’d start with him. It should be easy enough to confirm if she was telling the truth about being in Minneapolis.”
I typed his name into the search bar and pulled up a website. It was clunky, outdated, and featured garish red type splashed like blood against a black background.
“Ugh.”
I spun the laptop so she could see it. Her little nose wrinkled, and she turned away to groom her tail.
“I don’t see anything about signings, but I don’t think his site’s been updated for years. Isn’t that something a publicist would do?”
“If she’s a good one,” Millie said around a mouthful of fur.
“True. I’m starting to wonder about that. Well, I guess let me pull up all the bookstores in the Minneapolis area and see which ones had book signings yesterday.”
By the time I was done, my forgotten tea had gone cold, and I’d come up empty. I leaned back in the uncomfortable chair.
“I miss my couch.”
“Me too. We have the cushions just right.”
I turned my head to eye the one in Rob’s living room. It was... a little on the sad side. I shook my head and focused back on the computer.
“So, no bookstores in that area had a signing with that author. As far as I can tell, he’s only done one signing in his entire life, and it was in Massachusetts.
Where he lives. I think we’re right, Millie.
She was lying. I wish Rob would get back so I could see what he says about her flight tickets. ”
I checked the clock over the fridge and sighed. It was almost nine. I didn’t know what was taking him so long. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t had anything to eat since the pie at Meg’s.
“Well, shoot. I guess I’ll make some spaghetti.”
Typically, I found cooking to be a soothing activity. Measuring ingredients, stirring pots. It was almost a zen thing for me. Cooking in someone else’s kitchen was anything but zen.
“Colander. I need a colander,” I said, rifling through the cupboards.
It took six tries before I found an old plastic one that was halfway melted along one side. I groaned and put it in the sink.
“Well, it should work. I hope.”
Millie watched from her spot in the middle of the kitchen.
“It might be its last ride, though.”
“True story.”
I transferred the pot of boiling noodles to the sink and slowly poured everything into the colander. It shifted a little, but it held.
“Hey! It worked.”
“So, why do you think Natalie lied? Do you think she killed Moorehead?”
I put the pan back on the stove to cool and turned to look at my cat.
“I don’t know. Why would she want to do such a thing? I mean, talk about killing the golden goose. Unless he did something terrible to her. And blowing up a car? I just don’t know. She seems so sweet.”
“I wish you could have found a connection between her and Declan.”
I made a face as I turned back to the sink and shook the remaining water out of the noodles.
“I know. For her being as young as she is, she really doesn’t have much of a social media presence. Same with Declan. I wonder if they’re using fake names. Maybe they’re dating and Moorehead threatened one of them. I could see that. Maybe. It’s a reach, though.”
I dumped the noodles back into the pot and turned the sauce off. It had been simmering for nearly half an hour, and a rich tomato scent hung heavy in the kitchen, mixing with the garlic powder and butter I’d put on the bread.
“Ah! The garlic bread!”
I flipped open the oven and pulled out the tray. The bread was a little black around the edges, but it would do.
“Whew. Just in time. I just don’t understand, Millie Cat. Why would either of them want him dead? And that manuscript, too... I couldn’t find anything that tied either one of them to that. Or to Moorehead, for that matter. I wish I could call his literary agent. Or publisher.”
“Why can’t you?”
I pointed at the clock.
“It’s almost ten here. It would be midnight there. But you can bet that’s what I’m doing first thing in the morning.”
I turned off the oven and put aside the raggedy oven mitts I’d found buried in a drawer. It was clear Rob spent little time in the kitchen.
My stomach rumbled again, and I looked out the windows. No sign of Rob. No call or text from him either.
“I hate to eat without him.”
“He said not to wait.”
“I know. But I thought after today it would be nice to have a good meal together. But I suppose that’s how it is. Something else might have come up.”
“Or she confessed to murdering Moorehead, and he’s busy getting all the loose ends tied up,” Millie said as she walked to the kitchen table. “If you’re gonna put cheese on your pasta, could I have a little pinch?”
She turned, her green eyes big and pleading. I rolled my eyes, but opened the fridge.
“Of course. I would’ve forgotten if you hadn’t said something. Let’s give it a few more minutes, though. Just in case.”
I waited until it was clear Rob wasn’t coming anytime soon. By then, I had to reheat everything in the microwave, but it still tasted good. I ate, shared a few shreds of cheese with my cat, because of course I did, and pushed my plate away.
“Well, I suppose we should turn in. I want to get up early and make those calls. I thought about leaving a message, but I don’t know if they’ll take me seriously. Better to do it firsthand.”
Millie yawned, exposing the back of her little pink throat.
I got the dishes washed and stowed in the antique dishwasher. A quick search under the sink failed to turn up any dishwasher pods or soap.
“Well, shoot. Maybe I should have washed them by hand.”
I closed the door to the dishwasher and shook my head.
“That can wait until tomorrow. I sure wish I knew what he was doing. It’s not like him to be this quiet for this long.”
I shuffled back to the bedroom and went through my nighttime routine.
It felt strange. Both familiar and foreign at the same time.
Not quite like being in a hotel, but not being at home either.
I put on my nighttime moisturizer and turned off the light, heading for the bed where Millie was already curled up, waiting for me.
“Good night, Olivia. We’ll figure things out tomorrow.”
I stroked her soft fur as I got comfortable.
“I sure hope so. I feel like we’re missing something that’s so obvious... You know what. I forgot to tell Rob about something.”
She yawned and snuggled closer.
“What?”
“About Natalie ordering coffee from Meg’s after Moorehead did. And about his order. You don’t think... No, it won’t have anything to do with the coffee. And Meg wouldn’t hurt a fly. Rob knows that. He wouldn’t think...”
Millie’s soft snores sounded, and I smiled, smoothing back the fur on her cheeks. She was exhausted, and if I was being honest, so was I. I leaned back and closed my eyes, willing sleep to come.
My brain, however, had different ideas. It decided this was a great time to replay my argument with Rob, my failure to mention the coffee, and the aftermath of the explosion over and over. I tossed. I turned. I sighed.
“Argh!”
Millie murmured something sleepily, and I quieted. I was keeping her up, and she needed her sleep. I’d read that cats need around sixteen hours a day. I wished I could sleep sixteen hours a day. I wouldn’t get much done, but I would be rested.
I took a slow breath and began doing my multiplication tables. It was a trick I’d learned way back when I was young, and occasionally, it worked. I’d made it up to the eights before sleep finally mugged me.
Some time in the night, when the room was pitch black, the bed dipped. I turned, blinking blearily, and saw Rob lying next to me. He wrapped me up and pulled me close to his chest.
“Rob?” I whispered. “What happened? It’s after three.”
My only answer was a soft snore. I smiled and patted his hand. Whatever it was, it could wait until tomorrow, which wasn’t that far away. I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep, bracketed by his strong arms and Millie on my other side.