CHAPTER 57
A few minutes later, a text came in from Abe that made my heart sink.
Don’s on his way over to see you. Please talk him down if you can. I can’t get away.
Talk him down from what? At the same time, I spied Don peering through the glass in the door. When he saw me, he waggled his fingers in greeting. This I did not need. Still, I trudged over there. What if he wanted to speak to Isabelle? Would she refuse to talk with him? Would he start a family fight?
I paused to send a quick text back to Abe saying nothing more than “okay”. I gave a quick glance at Isabelle. Had she seen Don? She was studying her phone, but I had the feeling she’d whipped it out to make it seem as though she hadn’t been studying the newcomer, one she had a long and fraught past with.
“Do you mind if we talk outside?” I asked Don at the door, trying to block both his way and his view.
His hair was mussed and his shirt misbuttoned, making one corner of the collar stick up.
“We’ve already closed,” I added.
“Um, sure. Except it’s a little brisk out here.” He glanced inside. “Maybe we could . . . oh, crackers. Is that Isabelle?”
“Yes.” I stepped out and shut the door behind me.
Don turned to me, looking even worse than before, if that was possible. “Should I go sit with Izzy?”
I shook my head. “Unless you’ve already reconciled with her, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The air had warmed a bit, but now a heavy blanket of gloomy clouds made the afternoon damp and chilly in a different way.
“But I haven’t seen her in such a long time.”
I took him by the arm and led him away from the door. “Don. Do you think she wants to see you?”
“No, but—”
“Then right now in my restaurant is not the place to have a reunion, especially if it might turn into a confrontation. Abe said you came over to talk to me, not her. Yes?”
“Yes. Except it’s about her, in a way.”
About Isabelle? This could be interesting. “All right. I have to get back to work in a minute. What’s up?”
“Actually, it’s about Bernard, her husband. Her late husband.” Don blew out a long breath, picking at the cuff of his shirt. “I remembered a bit I overheard. At the time, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. But now . . .”
I waited. He kept picking, avoiding my gaze.
“But now, what, Don?”
“Robbie, I think Isabelle might have killed Bernard.”
Yikes. I sank down to sit on one of the rocking chairs. “Are you kidding?”
“Not at all.” He perched on the edge of the bench next to me. “I wish I were.”
“What did you overhear?” I asked. “What do you know?”
“It was one of the last times she was at the house, a few years ago. Mind you, Cooper was already pretty old when she married him, but he was still alive and apparently doing well at that time. Izzy was in the other room on the phone.”
“Who was she talking to?”
“I’m positive it was their estate lawyer.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She was asking about their wills. Bernard Cooper died a month later.”
“What did he die of?”
“They said it was a fall, during which he suffered a blow to the head and had a massive brain bleed. There was nothing they could do.” He turned haunted eyes toward me. “What if she cracked him on the head same as she did Evermina?”
“You think Isabelle killed her?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“You have to tell the police what you remembered.” I stood. “Please.”
“But I can’t, Robbie. Don’t you see? They already think I’m the murderer of the week. They’ll accuse me of trying to scapegoat my estranged stepdaughter.”
“I appreciate you letting me know.” I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, Don. Tell the police or don’t tell them. Right now, I have to get back to work. Let’s talk later, okay?” I made the thumb-and-pinky phone gesture.
He rose. “All right.”
As I made my way inside, this time Isabelle didn’t try to hide her stare. Not at me, but at Don on the porch behind me.