Chapter 11

I checked the time on my iPhone as I made my way down the sidewalk. I was a few minutes early for coffee with Tara, but that was just enough time to get a table. I was particularly looking forward to it because our recent girls’ night out had been partly ruined by Basil and his hot date, not to mention my encounter with Basil afterward—and what a disaster that had been!

I tried to force it from my mind. I had already let Basil ruin one outing. I thought I’d had chemistry with him, but that was apparently nothing compared to whatever he had with the journalist. I was mortified that I’d kissed him back, only to be dismissed in such a way.

Despite my best efforts, the only thing I managed to think about on my walk was Basil. I wasn’t in a good mood. For one, it was a particularly glary day. I took off my sunglasses and wiped them on a tissue. I held them up to the sun, and could see that they still needed a good clean. I walked a few more steps without them, but was forced to squint at the glare reflected off every available surface: windows, chrome, and passing cars. I put them back on, smudges and all.

My nerves were on edge, and the grating sound of a truck using its compression brakes went right through my head, as did the loud abuse hurled at the truck driver by the pedestrian who was half way across the road at the time.

I cheered up when I caught the scent of good coffee carried down the street on a good breeze, the same breeze that moments later caught my skirt along with a dozen or so discarded chocolate wrappers.

I was so intent upon holding down my skirt that at first I did not identify the man walking toward me. When recognition dawned, I broke out in a cold sweat. What to do? Should I cross the street? Slap myself on the forehead as if I’d forgotten something, and then hurry back the way I’d come?

I shook my head. Basil was the one in the wrong. He should be the one to duck into a shop. Still, if I hesitated any longer, we might actually have to talk to one another. Just the thought of it made me sick to my stomach.

“Laurel!” Basil waved to me, and then hurried down the sidewalk. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

The nerve of the man, I thought. He’s acting as if nothing happened the other night!

I greeted him with a curt nod and tried to act normal. If he was going to act as if nothing happened, then so was I. I was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it bothered me.

“Did you see Anna’s article this morning?”

Of course it would be about Anna, I thought with irritation. I gave him a tight smile. “Yes. It was favorable, thank goodness.”

Basil appeared to be surprised at my indifference. “I think it turned out wonderfully. She highlighted the celebrity funerals in a positive manner. In fact, she didn’t mention the murders at all.”

I resisted the urge to say something catty. “I’ll call her and thank her.”

Basil was still talking. “She’s a sharp journalist, but even she can be reasoned with. Although, I must say, it wasn’t easy talking her out of using the murders in her article.”

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. Did he want me to thank him? He seemed a little too proud of that statement. And exactly how had he talked her out of using the murders in her article? An awful image popped into my head of Basil and Anna sharing a hug, of Basil holding her the way he had held me that night.

“Laurel?” His voice jolted me back into the moment.

I realized I had zoned out. “Thanks. I appreciate you talking to her,” I said after an interval.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled the way he used to smile at me.

He was a confusing, contradictory man. Was he an evil twin, or did he have multiple personality disorder? It was all too much. The silence hung between us. The moment couldn’t have been more awkward.

Basil was the one to break the silence. “Laurel, I wanted to talk about the other night.”

I shook my head. “I’m about to meet someone for coffee. I can’t be late.”

“Meet someone?” he asked with a measure of surprise. An odd look crossed his face.

If I were feeling hopeful, I would have sworn that it looked like jealousy. Whatever he was feeling quickly vanished. “Of course. I apologize for holding you up. Perhaps we could talk later?”

I brushed by him and hurried away. It wasn’t the most mature way to break off a conversation, but I’d had about as much as I could take.

Tara was already there. “I’ve already ordered you a latte and a macaroon,” she said, sporting a whipped froth mustache from her energetic gulping. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be a lot happier today. I saw the newspaper article on your business. Things seem to be looking up!”

I sat down and wrapped my hands around my latte. “I am happy about it. It’s great news. By the way, you have a froth mustache.”

Tara dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Seriously, you’re pale. Is anything wrong?”

I shook my head.

Tara’s expression was skeptical. “Now spill. You’ve been off ever since we saw Basil and that newspaper chick together. What’s up?”

I took a sip of my latte and then set down the glass. “Okay. Well, you know how I walked home that night?”

Tara nodded.

“Basil drove past and said he’d give me a ride home. He walked me to the door, and then he kissed me.”

“He what?” Tara shrieked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Shush!” I looked around the coffee shop, but no one was staring. “I was too upset. He kissed me and then said we could never be together.”

Tara leaned across the table. “You’re kidding, right?”

I shook my head.

“Are we talking a peck on the check, or a real kiss?”

“A real kiss,” I said. “And then he said, ‘We can’t be together. I’m sorry.’”

“And then what happened? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I hurried inside and shut the door, and the answer to your second question is that I was too upset. I could hardly bring myself to think about it, much less speak about it.” I took a bite of the macaroon, but all I could taste was cardboard. I knew it should be tasty. I could smell the flavor locked in the moist center. I could feel the slight crisp of the outer shell give way to a warm frosting center. Yet it might as well have been glue. “And I saw him just now. He said he wanted to talk about it.”

“Basil actually wanted to talk about it?” Tara asked incredulously. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s over with.” I dabbed at my eyes with a crumpled tissue. “I’m just mad that I let it get to me at all.”

Tara waved her hands in the air. “Why wouldn’t it get to you? It’s not like you waved a neon sign in his face and said, ‘Kiss me, dum-dum.’”

I had to laugh.

“Seriously though, that’s so weird. Why would he kiss you if he didn’t want to?”

I shrugged. I’d replayed the scene a thousand times in my head, and then a thousand more for good measure. No matter how I looked at it, I was still no closer to an answer. Nothing about it made sense. “He probably had someone else on his mind.”

Tara tapped a finger against her cheek. “No, he’s not going to kiss you just because he didn’t kiss her. That makes no sense. He did have a bad breakup some time back. Men never seem to get over bad breakups as well as women do. Perhaps he’s still upset over that. It might not be anything to do with Anna Stiles.”

I abandoned my attempt to eat the macaroon and put what was left of it on my plate. “I don’t know, Tara. I’d rather not think of what they did and did not do. It’s not my business, either way.”

“I’m just saying that maybe there is more to everything than meets the eye. He might have a really good reason for how he’s acting,” Tara mused.

“Maybe. But unless he has an evil twin that escaped from the attic that night, I can’t see anything he could come up with that would make it okay.”

Tara laughed. “I think an evil twin would make it worse. It’s bad enough trying to figure out just one of him.”

“I’ll drink to that!” I lifted my coffee in a toast, and then took a hearty gulp. “To change the subject, has Duncan said anything else about the case?”

Tara shook her head. “And you said that you don’t suspect the mayor’s wife anymore?”

“I’m starting to think perhaps it was the mayor,” I said in a low voice. “Helen said he was the one who was upset about the jewelry theft. She said the jewelry had belonged to his mother. From what Helen said, she didn’t get along with her mother-in-law. So, bottom line, Helen didn’t care one bit about the jewelry, and it was her husband who was so upset.”

“That’s what she told you,” Tara said, “but if she is the murderer, then that’s exactly what she would say. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a cop’s wife, it’s that you can’t always take people at face value. Trust no one.”