That night I sat down in a booth with Pickpocket wearing a faux therapy dog vest and a face with so much makeup I was afraid it was going to crack if I smiled, not that smiling was on the agenda.
Kronos was packed with the dinner rush, extra packed actually with my crew. Avery and Leo insisted on coming, so did Chuck, Fats, and Rocco. My parents weren’t there. Mom got upset at the very idea and I told Dad to stay with her. He listened and I nearly passed out from the shock.
I made everyone sit away from us and waited by myself for Kimberly Thooft Stackhouse to show up. I sat there and realized I didn’t know what she looked like. I hadn’t thought to ask. All I had was the image of her brother in my head, so I pictured her as blonde, overweight, and professorial. I was wrong on all counts.
But I did spot Kimberly the second she walked in. Her shoulders were up around her ears and she clutched a purse in front of her like a shield as her eyes darted around. She was blonde, but it was a dye job. I could always tell. As for the other two guesses, Kimberly was thin with a heart-shaped face, a dimpled chin, and a pouty lower lip bitten to shreds. Given her non-descript black coat, Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, khakis, and white Keds, I’d have picked overworked homeroom mom instead of professor.
The crowd parted and she saw me looking at her. Her internal struggle showed on her face. Kimberly was about to turn tail and run, so I smiled and the makeup didn’t crack, thanks to Fats’ skills. She had to work hard to cover up the rash that had stopped erupting to become scaly and red. Awesome.
Kimberly slowly walked over, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, like she had to think about each step to make it happen. I don’t know if she was aware of all the eyes on her, but there were plenty of them. The closer she got the less worried I got. Kimberly Thooft Stackhouse wasn’t going to berate me. I’d be lucky to get anything out of her and I very much wanted to know why her brother happened to me.
When she arrived at the table, Pick wiggled with excitement and wagged his stubby tail, thumping it against the plump seat back. It was hard to imagine that goofball was what stood between me and kidnapping.
Kimberly stopped about two feet from the table, biting her poor lip, and Pick could hardly stand it. There were pets to be had. Get with the petting.
“He wants you to pet him,” I said. “If you don’t, he’s so excited, he might pee.”
A tiny smile appeared on the corners of her mouth and she whispered something.
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s too loud. I didn’t catch that.”
“Can I? Pet him?” Kimberly asked.
“Please do. I don’t want him banned for life.”
Kimberly Thooft Stackhouse gave Pick a good scratch and some tugs on his ears. She knew dogs and Pick was certainly a fan. I decided that meant something and asked her to sit down.
She took off her coat, hung it on the hook by our booth, and slid in to face me, unafraid for the most part.
I started to say something, but Aaron came through the crowd and trotted up to our booth. No hairnet, thank goodness, but he was wearing Millicent’s apron circa 1962. There were ruffles. He didn’t say anything, naturally, and Kimberly stared up at him in confusion.
“Have you ever been here before?” I asked.
“No, but I’ve seen the reviews. There was one in the Sentinel.”
“The St. Seb Sentinel?”
“Yeah. He loved it.”
Tank Tancedi did love Kronos and Aaron, in particular. Aaron had seen his wife, Mallory, and how upset she was about her dogs and the fires. Typical of Aaron, the little weirdo designed a romantic dinner for the two of them and it soothed the pain. Tank had called me in the hospital. Mallory was doing a lot better.
“Well, this is Aaron. He’s the chef,” I said.
“Um…really?”
Aaron started bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. If you knew him, you knew he was itching to feed somebody. If not, well, in need of a psych hold might come to your mind.
“You hungry?” he asked.
I wasn’t. I hadn’t been since it happened, but not eating wasn’t an option. “Absolutely.”
Aaron glowed. “I’ve got a new Warhammer menu.”
“My son loves Warhammer,” said Kimberly. “He’s totally obsessed.”
He looked at her, sort of, and asked, “Fish?”
“I love fish.”
Aaron turned tail and ran for the kitchen.
“Hey!” I yelled. “What about me? I hate fish.”
Nothing. Not a glance back. I was so screwed.
“What’s on the Warhammer menu?” Kimberly asked.
“Beats me. I didn’t know there was one until five seconds ago. Knowing Aaron, nobody else did either,” I said.
“What will he bring?”
“Don’t worry. It will be amazing. I just hope it’s not crab.”
Kimberly’s shoulders left her ears and she took a breath. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “Not a problem.”
“Everyone said you wouldn’t.”
“I defy expectations.”
“You do. I’ve seen plenty pictures of you. DBD and…the other stuff, but I didn’t really expect you to look so much like Marilyn.”
“You started looking into me,” I said. “After?”
“Yes, but I knew who you were before.” She fiddled with her napkin. “I feel silly saying this, but I took a picture of you to my stylist when I wanted to update my color. My mother always used Marilyn as her example, but her color’s too light for me.”
“I’m flattered,” I said and it was true. It was a nice compliment. “She did a good job.”
Kimberly wrinkled her nose. “Now that I see you in person, I’m not so sure. It’s got a lot of depth, your hair.”
“She can try again.”
“She can, but now I think that I should go back to my natural color. My mom says she can’t go back. It’s grey now.” Kimberly began fiddling with her napkin. “It would be weird to see her as a brunette. Actually, it’d be weird to see me as one. I’ve been blonde forever.”
“My mother tried red once. It didn’t work out as well as your blonde,” I said, patiently. This could go on for a while.
The fiddling got worse until Kimberly finally said, “I thought about what to say to you and I wrote it down, but now I can’t remember a word of it.”
“That’s okay.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m so sorry. My parents, my brothers, everyone, the whole family. We can’t. We don’t. We never…”
Pick craned his neck across the table and gave her hand a lick. She reached over to pet him and broke down. I gave her a packet of tissues I brought in case of emergency. I thought it was going to be my emergency. It was nice to be wrong.
“I know,” I said. “Detective Rich told me you were having a hard time.”
She snuffled into a wad of tissues and asked, “Do you believe me?”
“I have no reason not to.”
“That’s not the same.”
“I’m working on it,” I said.
Kimberly got herself together and then she said the thing I dreaded.
“My brother wasn’t the type to do that. He just wouldn’t.”
“But he did.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chuck shift in his seat. My guy was about to come over. He couldn’t possibly hear what she said, but he knew me. I must’ve shown my distaste.
“I know. I do know,” she said forcefully, trying to convince herself. “It’s just not like him. Those detectives, they showed us all the evidence. I know it’s true. There was even surveillance footage. I saw him with my own eyes.”
“Was there?” I didn’t know that. Nobody mentioned it. “What did it show?”
“You didn’t see it?” Kimberly asked.
“No. The case was pretty much open and shut.”
The footage Kimberly described was pretty damning. Even if my body had never been found, Thooft could’ve been convicted on that alone. Although they didn’t have the actual attack on film, there was no one else in the vicinity and Thooft was on camera heading toward me and then peeling out so fast he took out a parking meter.
“Can I ask you something?” Kimberly asked.
“Sure.”
“Did he say anything to you? The detectives said no, but surely he must have said something.”
I took a breath and put my arm around Pick. His heart beat strong under my hand and it was okay. I was okay. “He called my name and cursed a little when I was fighting him, but that’s it.”
Kimberly balled up the tissues in her hand and her eyes pleaded with me. “I don’t…he just attacked you?”
“Yes. It happened so fast I could never have identified him. I had no idea who he was until they told me.”
Her lower lip trembled and I feared she’d burst into wails when Aaron trotted up with two mugs. He plunked them down and ran back to the kitchen.
“Did we order hot chocolate?” Kimberly asked. “I don’t even remember.”
“He knows when I need it and I guess you need it, too.”
“Need hot chocolate?”
“Taste it.”
Kimberly tasted Aaron’s latest creation and her face changed. It filled with wonder. She was a very pretty woman. I hadn’t noticed before. “That’s amazing.”
“He has a way with hot chocolate,” I said, “and all food really.”
We sipped in silence until Aaron came out with an enormous platter that made the surrounding tables groan with envy. I didn’t know a thing about Warhammer, but it was meat heavy. Kimberly got three kinds of fish, including some kind of weird croquette thing with tuna. I got kabobs and lamb gyros.
The neighboring tables demanded the mysterious Warhammer menu and people stopped looking at us, but Kimberly didn’t stop looking at me. Usually, it’s because of my face. People can’t quite believe it. They look for surgical scars or hints of how I did it with makeup, but Kimberly wasn’t doing that.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” I asked, finishing my last rib.
“No, no. Nothing,” she said hastily.
“You might as well say it. We’re here and I’m so bloated I’m not going anywhere soon.”
She speared her last bite of battered cod and said, “Well, I’ve changed my mind. You’re not what I expected. I mean, you’re really not.”
“I get that all the time. What did you expect?”
“I’ve read about all the things that happened to you. That crazy murderer that attacked your mom and you. That kid in New Orleans.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“I thought you’d be, I don’t know, tougher,” she said. “Hard or something.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. At least she didn’t say she expected a breathless dingbat.
“Sorry. I hope that’s not rude. I don’t mean it to be. You are tough. You’ve had to be.”
“I never think of myself as tough,” I said. “I’m surprised you did. People usually think I’m a moron that gets lucky.”
“You mean 20/20. They’re obviously sexist about you. Like a woman can’t look good and do anything else at the same time. It’s ludicrous.”
I’m starting to really like you.
“I appreciate that,” I said. “Now go ahead and say what you wanted to say. I can take it.”
Kimberly took her napkin off her lap and twisted it into a knot. “This terrible thing happened to you and I think, my family thinks, that you must want to know why.”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“And the police don’t care about that.”
“The motive?”
“Yes,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter now. Open and shut like I said.”
She untwisted the napkin and laid it back on her lap. Her pretty face had become resolute and I had a sneaking suspicion of what was coming next. “Open and shut for them, not for us. Or you.”
“You want me to investigate the man that was going to kill me,” I said.
She shook her head so violently it must’ve hurt her neck. “I can’t believe that. It isn’t who he was.”
“And yet here we are.” I drank some more hot chocolate. Aaron was right. I definitely needed it.
“Anton never did a violent thing in his whole life,” she said.
“Well, he started with a bang.”
“But why? I’m telling you that my brother was gentle and kind. He never so much as kicked our dog and she was a biter.”
“Kimberly, look, I know this must be absolutely wrenching, but some things are unknowable. They just are.”
“But this isn’t. The police didn’t even bother to really interview anyone in Germany. Anton had friends they never spoke to. We talked to them. He didn’t talk about you. His friend Sherri was in his apartment with the Polizei. There wasn’t anything on you. No pictures, plans, or maps. His school laptop had nothing on you whatsoever.”
Fight the feeling. Fight the feeling.
“That makes sense. You wouldn’t want your obsession on your work computer. It was probably monitored.”
“Most of Anton’s friends were women. He was a teacher for God’s sake. None of his friends said anything about him being even remotely violent.”
“He kept it on the down low,” I said.
“You are so good at what you do and you have a PI license now. We’ll pay you. We can afford it.”
I took a breath and fought the swirling tight tornado in my chest. Kimberly was so sincere. She knew her brother. But other murderers had brothers, friends, and family that were none the wiser. Leo had no idea what his nephew Scott was up to. None at all.
“I’m still not the person to do this job,” I said. “I can refer you to other firms, excellent firms.”
Kimberly’s mouth twisted and she looked down at the table.
Oh, I get it.
“I’m not the first person you asked to take the case.”
The crowd parted and Chuck was on the edge of his seat, still ready to spring into action. I gave a slight shake of my head and his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move.
“No, you’re not,” said Kimberly hesitantly. “But nobody else will touch this case with a ten-foot pole.”
“Really? I’m surprised. There’s publicity in doing it. I’d have thought you’d have people lining up.”
“We thought so, too, but it’s about you. A couple said they know your father and don’t want to cause your family any additional pain. Others said it wasn’t interesting. Case closed and who cares why. My brother was a psychopath and that’s the end.”
“From where I’m sitting,” I said, “I can see it.”
She leaned over the table and Pick licked her hand, getting himself an absentminded scratch. “He wasn’t though. Everything was normal until six weeks ago.”
“Something happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
“I’ll give you a list of firms. You can’t have tried them all.”
“We talked to fifteen. Fifteen. The only ones interested were sketchy and my dad said no. They seemed like they would take our money and do nothing. They weren’t going to come out to us for interviews or even think about going to Germany. Dad asked what they would do and they said various versions of stuff and things. Nothing concrete. It’d be a waste of time.”
“It probably is a waste of time,” I said.
“Not to us. We can’t go the rest of our lives not knowing what happened to Anton,” she pleaded.
The swirl in my chest grew and I thought about The Girls and Aunt Miriam. Not knowing what happened to Sister Maggie haunted them. She was the victim, but would it be any different for the perpetrator’s family? Having seen what that crime did to Robert Snider’s family, manifestly not.
“Kimb—”
“You’re the only one that would care as much as us about why he did it. To everyone else, it’s simple. But it’s not.”
“It looks fairly simple.” I heard myself say the word looks and it stung a bit. Didn’t I hate that surface crap? “He was in Incel chatrooms, reading about kidnap, rape and murder fantasies. Don’t get me started on the Deep Fake porn starring me.”
“He wouldn’t do any of that stuff.”
This was so hard. It hurt to be looking at her pained and innocent face. Why was I sitting there? Why didn’t I listen to the geezers? I never listen. That’s why. Idiot.
“He did,” I said firmly. “The evidence was on his computer.”
“My brother would not do that. I know he attacked you. I know that’s true. Detective Rich proved it to me, as hard as it is to believe, but those other things, they just can’t be true.”
“Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Incels have a lot of hate brewing inside them.”
“I was his sister. Anton didn’t hate women. I never heard him say a nasty thing about a woman in his life. His friends were women. Incels don’t have female friends.”
Interesting. No, Mercy. Don’t get interested. It’s not enough. Not even close.
“People hide things, especially men who are into that violent stuff,” I said.
Kimberly glanced around as if someone might be eavesdropping. “Yes, they do. But for Anton, it’s not possible.”
“Alright, I’ll bite. Why not? Why couldn’t Anton Thooft have been a violent woman-hating involuntary celibate?”
“Because my brother was gay.”
Aaron whisked away our platter and plates, replacing them with an entire pot of hot chocolate on a warming rack with a tea light underneath. He struggled to get his lighter to ignite and it gave me a minute to process what Kimberly had said. Well, I say process, try to comprehend was more like it. Why in the world did Campbell and Rich leave that out? To keep me in the dark? Why? What would be the point? To make their lives easier? It would, for certain, but Rich didn’t seem like he was in the market for easy.
Aaron lit the tea light and stood there bobbing up and down, waiting.
“I love the Warhammer menu,” I said automatically.
The bobbing continued.
“You should add it to the regular menu.”
Still going.
Oh!
“Kimberly, how did you like the Warhammer menu?” I asked pointedly.
“Um…what? Yes, oh, yes.” She turned her head slowly, like she was barely able to recall how to do it. “It was amazing. I feel like I’ve never had fish before today.”
“You think I should add it?” he asked.
“Yes, absolutely.”
Aaron poured us some more hot chocolate, popped what appeared to be a sugar wafer in our cups, and then spooned some stiff whipped cream on top of the wafer. He topped it with tiny housemade marshmallows and something he’d recently invented, honey sprinkles. “There,” he announced and waited until I dutifully picked up my cup.
He didn’t move and I raised an eyebrow at Kimberly. She started and then picked up hers. “Thank you. It’s beautiful, almost too good to drink.”
Aaron went up on the balls of his feet.
“But we will drink it,” I said quickly.
He nodded and dashed off.
We sat there, mugs in hand, in silence until Kimberly said, “You heard me, right?”
“Yeah, that’s um…new information,” I said before tasting Aaron’s latest creation. I swear to God my brain went on the fritz for a second. It was that good. The honey sprinkles were infused with some kind of liquor, but not really sweet. The whole thing together was dark and kinda meaty, if hot chocolate can be meaty.
“I know.” She took a sip. “Oh, oh my. What…”
“This might be the best yet,” I said when my brain could focus again.
“No kidding. I feel better. Do you feel better?”
“I do,” I said.
“But it’s not better.”
“No.”
She looked at the chocolate pot. “It’s like he made a pot of hot fattening Prozac.”
I smiled and it felt good. Everything felt good. “You’re not wrong.”
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
“About the Prozac?”
“My brother,” she said. “Nobody knows.”
“When you say ‘nobody’?”
When Kimberly said nobody, she meant nobody. Her brother was gay and it wasn’t a new thing either. Anton had always known, like he knew his name, she said. Although her brother was fourteen years older, they had always been extremely close. He came out to her when he was thirty, but Kimberly had already figured it out. Anton had dated women, but it was always more like a friend situation and never went anywhere. Her other brothers were intense about relationships, constantly bringing girls home and falling in love at the drop of a hat. You couldn’t shut them up about who they were going out with. Rachael was so pretty. Theresa was the best at soccer. Lauren scholarshipped. It was tedious to listen to at every family dinner and it made Anton’s silence more noticeable, at least to Kimberly.
“He was so secretive about his private life, but I just knew,” she said.
“But he never told your parents or your other brothers?” I asked.
“He never told anyone, except his partners, of course.”
“Why? It’s not the sixties.”
“My parents, well, we’re a very religious family. We were raised that homosexuality was against God’s law. Anton didn’t want to put the family in a position where they had to choose, but, later, I think it became a habit. He didn’t talk about himself hardly at all. I knew he was gay and had partners from time to time, but I got the impression that he kept everyone at arm’s length.”
“He was secretive,” I said.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m telling you he was just extremely private, not crazy.”
Secretive people have secrets.
“Would your parents have booted him out of the family?” I asked.
“No way. I told him that, but he couldn’t open up. He was built that way, keeping everything in. Honestly, it was sort of a relief. My other brothers tell you everything that’s on their minds. It’s exhausting.”
I drank that amazing hot chocolate, letting its warmth run through me as I patted Pick and let him lick a little whipped cream off my finger. It’d been so easy before I sat down with Kimberly Thooft Stackhouse. Detective Rich wasn’t satisfied with what happened, but I could ignore his poke to do something about it. Anton was dead. No amount of information would change what he did. But would why change the way I felt about it? How did I feel about Anton? And perhaps more importantly, when did he become Anton, instead of Anton Thooft.
“You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you?” Kimberly gave me a sad smile. She wanted to know. She had to know, but it would give her more pain and she knew that, too.
So did I.
Chuck slid into Kimberly’s seat about three seconds after she vacated it. He was exceedingly attractive in his going-to-court suit and tie, even his scowl didn’t ruin the fancy effect. “I don’t know what you’re going to do but don’t do it.”
“What makes you think I’m going to do something?”
“I’ve seen that look before and I’m not having it.”
“Like you’re in charge,” I said with an exaggerated eye roll.
“I should be. Look at you. You’ve got a rash, a broken arm, and I don’t know why your nose looks normal. That’s not normal.”
“It’s fine and my cast is off.” I waggled my newly-freed fingers at him.
“Mercy, why did you meet her? No good can come of it. You’re a victim. You get to feel any way you want to feel.”
I picked up my mug and batted my eyes at him over the lip. “What if I feel curious?”
“Son of a bitch,” he growled and his blue eyes grew more brilliant in response to the flush taking over his face. “That’s how she hooked you, huh? There’s nothing to be curious about. He did it. Done. Over.”
“Detective Rich came to see me,” I said.
“That asshat? Why?”
“He thinks something’s off.”
Chuck slammed a hand down on the table making the chocolate pot and everyone nearby jump. “I will hurt him. First, he treats you like some kind of lying piece of crap when you’re the victim and then he lays this on you. I’m calling his CO. I know you said to leave it, but I’m not leaving it.”
“It’s fine.”
“How can it be fine?” he asked. “You were kidnapped and I wasn’t there.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It’s not about you.”
He backtracked quickly, but it was still there. Chuck failed me somehow. My dad failed me. Uncle Morty. Spidermonkey. Leo. Avery. All the men failed me. I never appreciated Fats so much. She didn’t blame herself for something she didn’t do. She didn’t own me in some weird way like I was a child who must be looked after.
“You can’t watch me every minute,” I said, “and, if you try, we’re going to have a problem.”
“The case is closed.”
“I want to know why he came after me.”
“But do you need to know?”
“Yes.”
“Need to know is very different than want to know.”
I scowled back at him. “I know the difference. For instance, I wanted to know what The Klinefeld Group was after, now it’s become a need.”
“That’s different.”
“How? ‘Cause they didn’t throw me in a trunk? They murdered Lester and my great grandparents.”
Chuck held up his hands in defeat. “Can you give me one good reason that can get me on board?”
“More than your fellow cop thinking it’s not right?” I asked.
“Yeah, more than that douche saying it for who knows what reason.”
“Just between us?”
He frowned and my heart melted a little, but the fact that he was a big pain in my butt held my resolve firm.
“I’m waiting,” I said and I put out my hand to shake.
“We have to shake on it?”
“Yes.”
He shook my hand. “Fine. What’s your reason?” Chuck’s voice had the distinct sound of “this is going to be nonsense.”
“Anton Thooft was gay.”
“Ah, crap!”
Half of Kronos turned and looked at us and Pick yipped in alarm. Leo and Avery were ready to leap into action, although I doubt leaping anywhere would work out well for either of them.
I took Chuck’s hand again. “I know, right?”
“Campbell and Rich didn’t mention that to me,” he said.
“Kimberly didn’t tell them.”
“Witnesses, I swear to God, the bane of my existence.”
Pick scrambled off my seat and went over to Chuck’s to give him a comforting if slobbery lick on the cheek.
“I’m okay, ya big dingus.”
More licks and Chuck made the poodle lay down after wiping off the spittle.
I told him everything Kimberly said and he listened without interrupting. That was a first. “So you see why I have to do this.”
“I do,” he said reluctantly. “So what’s your theory? He had a psychotic break?”
“Maybe. I’ll start with who Kimberly says her brother was and go from there.”
“A lot of killers appear normal until they’re caught,” said Chuck.
“But they aren’t misogynists with white supremacist tendencies and rape fantasies that show up out of the blue six weeks before a kidnap murder attempt, especially when they’re gay.”
“You got me there.” He ran his hands through his thinning hair and then eyed me closely, his face, despite its hard edges, was worried and sweet. “I don’t have any vacation time coming. I could take a leave of absence.”
“Nobody’s asking for that,” I said. “You can’t investigate off the clock anyway. I’ll do it. She’s paying me.” I slipped out of my seat, snapped my finger, sending Pick over to my bench, and slid in next to Chuck. “I have my first paying PI gig.”
He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “Tommy was paying you already.”
“To do background BS. I can do more than that.”
Leo and Avery came over and pushed Pick into the corner.
“Alright,” said Leo. “We can’t take anymore. What did she want? Absolution?”
“No,” I said, rather proudly. “She hired me. Officially. My first one.”
“She has a band?” Avery asked.
“No.”
“Modeling agency?” Leo asked.
“What?”
Avery threw up his hands. “Oh! Private nurse.”
“Private Detective,” I said.
The geezers drew back. “No, no. That’s not. No.”
“I’m not asking you.”
Leo took a look in my mug, sniffed it, and asked, “What did the little guy put in this?”
“Chocolate,” I said.
The geezers tilted their heads to the side like Pick when I asked him to roll over and he decided not to know what on Earth I was hinting at.
Chuck waved at Rodney who was at his former table with a couple of plates. “It’s true, guys. She’s investigating her own kidnapper.”
“You can’t investigate your own murder,” said Leo.
“I wasn’t murdered,” I said.
“For all intents,” said Avery.
“No, not really.”
“Close enough,” said Leo.
“Close enough to what?” I asked.
“Dead.” Avery patted my hand. “We took a vote. You’re not doing it.”
“There’s no vote.” I looked at Chuck. “Hello? Not helping.”
He kissed me again. “I don’t want you to do it. I voted in absentia. It was unanimous.”
“Bummer.”
Chuck shrugged at the geezers, who were completely aghast. “Say some stuff from your vast experience and convince her. I got nothin’.”
I put on my stubborn face and then it was my turn to be aghast. Rodney came over and put a huge plate of boiled eggs, poached chicken, and cottage cheese in front of Chuck. “There you go. Aaron says if you ever do this again, you’re banned.”
“Duly noted,” said Chuck, picking up a fork and spearing a whole egg.
“Ew,” I said. “What is that?”
“An egg.”
“Are you sick? Do you have an ulcer?”
“On that note,” Avery got out of the booth quick, “we’ll leave you to it.”
“You’re supposed to help me,” said Chuck.
I leaned away from him. “You said you’d help me get through this however I wanted to get through it. Did you mean however you wanted to get through it?”
Leo got out of the booth so fast he was a bald blur. “See ya, Chuck. God bless.”
“God bless? What the heck is that?” Chuck asked. “Help me.”
“Oh, no,” said Avery. “I saw that look on my wife’s face. Mercy means business. I don’t intend to be collateral damage in this war.”
I poured some more hot chocolate, the fancy way, from a distance and with a flourish. “There’s no war. I’m going to root around and see what I can find.”
“I feel like that’s probably been said before,” said Leo.
“Because it has,” said Chuck.
“And we’ve had this talk before, too,” I said. “This is who I am. I root around.”
“But, Mercy, whenever you root around you kick up a shit storm,” said Avery.
“May I remind you all that I’m the victim,” I said. “If I want answers, I’m entitled to kick up any kind of storm I want.”
The geezers’ whole demeanor changed. The tension went right out of them and Leo reached over and cupped my cheek. “Sweetheart, I can’t argue with that.”
“Thanks, Leo.”
The guys left me with Chuck and his plateful of weird, unappetizing food. I tried to slide away from the white pile. It smelled…bland. But Chuck grabbed me and pulled me tight to his side.
“What can I do to make this not happen?” he asked.
“Pay for dinner.”
He brightened right up. How could someone so smart be so dumb? “Really?”
“No, you big dufus.”
“Dammit, Mercy.” The cords in his neck got so taut I feared they might snap and take out an eye. “I can’t stand it. These things keep happening to you. I just…”
I put a hand on his thigh and squeezed. “What do I have to do to make you comfortable with this job?”
He gave me the side eye. So suspicious. “Really?”
“Yes. I’m doing it, so what do you need?”
“I want Pick with you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
I crossed my arms. “Is this just because you don’t want to walk him?”
“It’s a side benefit, but no.”
“Anything else?”
“You don’t go alone,” he said. “Ever.”
“I’ll take Fats.”
“She’s pregnant.”
I snorted. “So? She kicks more butt than any man I know.”
“Any man?”
I shouldn’t answer that.
Chuck gave me the stink eye.
“I love you,” I said.
“You think Fats can beat me up,” he said.
Hell, yeah.
“Maybe, if she wasn’t barfing.”
He wasn’t satisfied but decided not to pursue it further. “So you’ll take her with you?”
“Absolutely.”
“And if she’s barfing?”
Aaron appeared at the table, staring at Chuck’s abominable plate. He made it, but I think he hated himself for it. I didn’t blame him.
“I’ll take Aaron,” I said.
“Come on.” Chuck looked up. It wasn’t very far. “No offense, Aaron.”
“You can’t offend him,” I said. “He probably didn’t hear you.”
“He’s right there.”
“Aaron?” I tugged on his apron.
“You hungry?” the little weirdo said.
“See.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Chuck. “Aaron, focus.”
“I’ve got some dogs.” Aaron clasped his hands together. “New recipe. Andouille and cabbage.”
Odd combo.
“Yeah, eat that.” I started to slide the bland pile to Aaron, but Chuck stopped me.
“I can’t eat that,” he said.
“Why not?”
He looked away. “I’m on a diet.”
“Since when?” I asked.
“Right before Thooft. You really didn’t notice?”
“I noticed the tremendous gas.”
“That you noticed?”
“How could I not?” I asked. “Didn’t you notice I’ve been sleeping on the sofa?”
“I thought you had a nightmare,” he said.
“I did and it smelled terrible.”
He and Aaron got into a tug of war over the plate, which surprisingly Chuck lost. Aaron ran off with the plate and Chuck savagely ate his one remaining egg in one bite.
“Why are you on this diet?” I asked.
“I’m going to be thirty,” he said with anger.
Better than the alternative.
“In two years,” I said.
“Exactly and my metabolism will start going down,” he said in all seriousness.
“And the solution is boiled eggs?”
“Muscle mass. I’ve got to build muscle while I can. I’ve always wanted to add bulk. Time is running out.”
“So you’re eating massive amounts of boiled eggs and stinking me out of the bedroom.”
“My system will adjust,” he said.
Or I’ll smother you, whichever comes first.
“This isn’t a healthy diet,” I said.
“You don’t know.”
“Actually, I do. I’m a nurse.”
My guy leaned back and crossed his arms. He was not bulky and he wasn’t going to be. “No, Miss Watts. You are a PI.”
Touché. Dammit.