Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Ten minutes later, Bodie—his hair damp from his shower—passed through the lobby and assured me he wouldn’t be long getting the car. Sure enough, he soon pulled up to the curb in his black sports car.
I sighed when I settled into the leather seat. “Nice car.”
The engine purred as Bodie joined the stream of traffic with minimal honking from other drivers.
“Thanks. The lease payments are a bitch but…”
“Totally worth it?” I guessed.
He smiled. “Yep.” He flipped a switch on the console. “You look like you could use the heated seat.”
“I’m not that cold, but…” Warmth seeped into my back and legs. “Oh…”
“Right?” Bodie grinned.
I sighed again and wriggled deeper into the seat.
“How are things going with your quest to clear Mr. Nagy’s name?” Bodie asked a moment later.
I forced myself to stay awake even though the warm seat was trying to lull me to sleep. “You know about that?”
“I think the whole building does.” Bodie changed lanes, prompting a chorus of angry honks from other drivers. “Bitty told me about it when I was getting my mail the other day.”
“The Mirage’s rumor mill isn’t always the most accurate source of information.”
“So, you’re not in the middle of a steamy romance with your investigative partner?”
I sat up straighter, suddenly wide awake. “What? Who said that?”
“Actually, no one, to my knowledge.” He gave me a sheepish smile. “I was teasing.”
I relaxed, but my words came out grumbly when I said, “Well, good.”
“But it’s true?”
“No! Absolutely not.” The memory of kissing Wyatt flashed in my mind. I did my best to kick it to the curb.
“Glad to hear it.”
I glanced his way. “Yeah?”
He smiled, flicking his eyes to meet mine before turning them back to the road.
A hint of warmth touched my cheeks, unrelated to the heated seat.
“I’m glad you’re helping Mr. Nagy,” Bodie said.
“Well, I’m trying to help him.” I thought of my failed attempt to get information out of Minnie. “But I’m not really detective material.”
Bodie rubbed at the scruff on his jaw before settling his hand back on the steering wheel. “I have some suspicions.”
“Really?” I perked up, my curiosity awakened.
“First of all, I suspect that you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”
I sank deeper into the seat. “Thanks, but I haven’t even been able to figure out if Minnie has an alibi.”
“Minnie Yang?” His incredulity was understandable. “You think she might have killed Freddie?”
“It’s possible. She hated the guy.”
His forehead scrunched up as he absorbed my words. “But she’s so…small. Her name suits her.”
“Have you seen her working out at the gym?”
“Okay, yeah, I have. You’re right. She’s a beast. But a murderous beast?”
“I hope not.” I stifled a yawn, tempted to close my eyes and sink even deeper into the deliciously warm seat. “I’d much rather the culprit be the mystery man.”
“What mystery man?”
“Apparently, Freddie met with an unidentified man at Shanahan’s Suds a few days before he died,” I explained. “The mystery man might not have anything to do with the murder, but it would be nice to know who he was.”
“I’m friends with Mike, the owner of the pub,” Bodie said, flicking on his turn signal. “He might still have security footage from that day. You could get a picture of the guy to show around. Maybe Mike even knows his name.”
“Do you think he’d talk to me?”
“Sure. Tell him I sent you. If he wants to confirm that, he can text me. Actually, you know what? I’ll text him to let him know you’re coming. I’d go with you, but I need a nap before tonight’s gig.”
“Gig?” I usually heard him describe an evening’s work of bartending as a shift.
“Sometimes on my nights off from the bar, I work for a catering company. There’s this fancy shindig in Manhattan tonight. A charity gala. Lots of rich folks.”
“Does that mean good tips?”
Bodie laughed. “In my experience, most rich people aren’t great tippers.”
“Maybe that’s how they get rich. By being stingy.”
“Could be. I wouldn’t really know. Serving drinks is the closest I get to any rich people.”
“That’s closer than I get.”
Except that wasn’t entirely true. I was recently very up close and personal with Wyatt in the dumbwaiter shaft.
I pushed that thought aside. I didn’t want to be thinking about Wyatt, especially when I was sitting next to another hot guy, one who seemed much more relatable and not quite so far out of my league.
“Thanks, Bodie,” I said, trying to get my mind back on track. “Talking with Mike might be the break I need.”
“No problem. I want to help any way I can.”
He stopped the car in the middle of the road, right in front of the Mirage. Parked cars lined the street, bumper to bumper.
“I’ll drop you off here, so you don’t have to walk from the garage.”
I thanked him as I undid my seatbelt and opened the door.
“Emersyn, wait.”
I stopped with one leg out of the vehicle.
“Check the glove compartment. There’s something in there for Livy.”
I opened it, and a plastic bag tumbled out into my hands. It held about half a dozen drink umbrellas in a variety of colors.
“I promised I’d get her some,” he explained.
“You remembered?”
He’d mentioned it more than a week ago, when Livy found out that he made “fancy drinks” for a living.
“Of course. She’s a great kid.”
I smiled, fighting an unexpected prickle of tears. “She is. How much do I owe you?”
“Emersyn, I don’t think my boss even paid a penny a piece for those things.”
“You won’t get in trouble?” I asked, wanting to be sure.
“No one even knows they’re gone. Even if they did, they wouldn’t care. They’re all yours. Well, Livy’s.”
“She’ll love them. Thanks, Bodie.” The gesture triggered a flurry of butterflies in my chest and warmed me more thoroughly than the luxurious heated seat.
I tucked the umbrellas into my coat pocket and gingerly extricated myself from the car, waving as Bodie drove off toward the parking garage around the corner.
I missed the heated seat by the time I reached the curb.
The damp autumn wind cut through my coat and thin leggings, sending icy shivers through me.
On top of that, I was parched and beyond ready to chug a tall glass of water, followed by a chilled can of apple Bubly.
I stopped outside the Mirage’s front door, my keys dangling from my fingers. My thoughts had meandered back to the brand name I’d seen on Minnie’s reusable water bottle. I’d seen that name before. In Freddie’s apartment.
Was that significant?
I rolled that possibility around in my head.
It likely didn’t mean anything, I decided. Maybe it was a popular brand, though I’d never heard of it until recently.
I filed the information about Grub Tubz away in my mind and got myself out of the blustery wind.
Stairs were a definite no for me in my current condition, so I limped straight for the elevator.
While riding it up to the third floor, I tugged the packet of drink umbrellas out of my pocket and smiled at them.
They might not be worth much money, but they would put a smile on Livy’s face. To me, that was priceless.