"Well?"
Kitsune didn't even look at me as we pulled out of the parking lot.
"Kitsune?"
I crossed my arms over my chest tightly, bouncing my foot up and down. All the nervous energy I avoided during my confrontation with Adrian suddenly caught up to me, and I was a bundle of nerves, too frazzled to attempt to compose myself.
"Adrian knows something," he said. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if things between Victoria and Adrian were more than just artist and sponsor."
I gave myself a moment to let his words sink in. When they did, I blinked. "What?"
Finally, he shifted his eyes over to me before snapping them back ahead of him.
"You don't?" he asked. "He seemed much more interested in you than the case."
I shifted. "Yeah, well –"
"You dated his brother." A beat. "How long?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Just... answer the question, if you wouldn't mind."
"We dated in college," I said reluctantly. "A year, maybe? But it didn't work out."
"I see," Kitsune said. "Well, that certainly adds another layer to this already complicated case."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that there are a lot of tangled relationships at play here," Kitsune said. "And if Adrian did have a relationship with Victoria, that could give us a motive for her murder."
"But we don't know that for sure," I said. "And even if they had a relationship, that doesn't necessarily mean that he killed her."
"Of course not," Kitsune said. "But it's something we have to consider."
We drove in silence for a few minutes, the only sound in the car the hum of the engine. I couldn't help but let my mind wander, thinking about all the possible scenarios that could have led to Victoria's death. The more I thought about it, the more complicated the case seemed to become.
"I have a feeling that this case is going to get more complicated before it gets any easier," I said, breaking the silence.
Kitsune let out a low chuckle. "I wouldn't be in this line of work if I only took on easy cases," he said. "But there's something about this one that feels particularly challenging."
We continued driving in silence, lost in our own thoughts and speculations.
"When are we going to talk to George?" I asked after another moment.
"This is really bothering you, isn't it?"
"I don't understand why he wouldn't say anything," I said. "It doesn't make sense. That was his sister. And I don't get how he can be so emotionless about the whole situation."
"Emotionless?"
"He doesn't react," I said. "I saw him that night when he looked at the body. There wasn't a reaction."
"Mah, Rose, are you sure you really saw?" Kitsune asked in that monotone way he had.
"Are you doubting me?"
"Never," he replied. "But emotionless?"
"Trust me, Alexander was the definition," I said. "I know what I'm talking about."
We pulled into the Dogs Day Diner, and I sighed.
"What?" Kitsune asked.
"Let me guess," I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt. "You want to wash down our meeting with Adrian with a cheeseburger and fries."
"You know me well, Rose," he said. "I don't let people get close to me. Consider yourself lucky."
"Maybe people are avoiding you," I muttered as I stepped out of the car.
Kitsune chuckled again as he followed me out. "That's also a possibility," he said. "But luckily, I have you to keep me company. We need to keep our energy up if we're going to tackle this case, and what better way to do that than with some good old-fashioned comfort food?"
“Food is a stretch.” I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. It was hard not to like Kitsune, even if he had the tendency to be infuriatingly cryptic at times.
As we walked into the diner, the smell of frying food and coffee filled my nostrils. It was a small, cozy place, with a few regulars huddled around the counter and a couple of booths along the wall. We took a booth in the corner, and I watched as Kitsune scanned the menu with a critical eye.
"I think I'll have the cheeseburger," he finally said, setting the menu down. "With a side of onion rings." He locked eyes with me. "See? You were wrong about the fries."
"Like onion rings are so much better," I said. I smiled at the waitress. "Can I get a parfait please?"
"A what?" the waitress asked.
Kitsune pressed his lips together, probably to keep from laughing. "Yogurt and fruit, please," I said. "And granola, if you have it."
"Okay," she said doubtfully, scrawling it on her notepad. She glanced up at Kitsune and gave him a grin. "Glad to see you out and about, Kitsune. Then again, a young woman will do that to you, won't she?" She winked.
I blushed at the implication, but Kitsune didn't seem to care.
"She's not my type," he said, shrugging it off. "But she's friendly enough."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Not your type?" I asked as the waitress walked away. I hoped he couldn't tell that there was a part of me that was genuinely offended by his casual dismissal of me. I shouldn't care, of course. But for some reason, something inside of me... did. "What's your type?"
This wasn't any of my business. In fact, there was a good chance by even asking, I had crossed some kind of line.
But I couldn't help my curiosity, and Kitsune seemed to be in a playful mood. Maybe I could take advantage of it and learn something about him.
He chuckled. "I don't have one," he said, grabbing a paper napkin and setting it on his lap. "I prefer to keep things professional."
I snorted, leaning against the booth's cracked seat. "You mean you don't have time for a personal life," I said.
"That too," he said, smiling at me. "But mostly, I think people complicate things too much. It's easier to just focus on work and not get caught up in anything else."
I nodded, thinking about my own messy love life. "I can see the appeal," I said. "But don't you ever get lonely?"
Kitsune's smile faded for a moment, and I wondered if I had touched on something sensitive. I Instantly remembered that picture on his desk, the one when he was an officer. The one with two other people, including a woman with brown hair and a bright smile. I wanted to ask him about them, about her, but I didn't.
But then he shook his head, and the smile was back.
"Sometimes," he said. "But I have friends, and I like spending time alone. It's not so bad."
"I suppose," I said, still watching him closely. "But you can't deny that having someone to share your life with has its benefits."
Kitsune's eyes flickered to mine, and I could see a hint of something in his expression. Regret, maybe? Or longing? But then it was gone, replaced by his usual mask of calm indifference.
"I suppose you're right," he said. "But for now, I'm content with my books and my solitude."
I didn't push the subject any further, sensing that he didn't want to talk about it anymore. Instead, we fell into a comfortable silence, watching as the waitress brought over our food. My parfait was delicious, and I couldn't help but reach out and grab an onion ring.
"Ah, I see how the mighty have fallen the second an onion ring is placed directly in front of them," he teased. "You bite that, you're fired."
"Fire me then," I said. "What are you going to do without me?"
"If you recall, I was perfectly fine before you," he pointed out.
I shrugged. "I still think you'd miss me."
"You're right," he said. "I'd miss the nagging about my food choices and my dirty car. I'd miss rearranging the office. I'd miss your incessant questions."
"See?" I indulged in a few bites of Kitsune's onion rings. "You're already picturing how impossible life without me would be."
Kitsune shook his head, but a small smile played at the corners of his lips. "I suppose life would be dull without you," he admitted. Before he could say anything more, Kitsune's phone rang, and he answered it with a curt "Kitsune speaking."
I couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but Kitsune's expression grew serious as he listened. "I see," he said. "We'll be there soon." He hung up, and I frowned.
Judging by the way his brow furrowed, I could tell something was up.
"That was Richmond," he said.
I lifted my brow.
"Come on," he said. "We have to pick him up at Sunset Spirits."
"What's that?" I asked.
"A dive bar on the outskirts of town." He stood up and dropped a couple of crinkled twenties.
"Why would he be there?" I asked.
"I don't know," Kitsune murmured. "But it can't be good."
The drive to Sunset Spirits was an adventure. Leaving behind the cobblestone streets and charming cottages of Cherry Blossom Bay, the road meandered through dense clusters of tall, swaying pines that whispered secrets to one another in the cool breeze.
The scent of pine needles filled the air, mixing with the unmistakable tang of the sea, a reminder that we were never too far from the coast. The road stretched out ahead, an endless ribbon of asphalt that wound through the dense forest, occasionally revealing tantalizing glimpses of the shimmering ocean beyond.
As we ventured deeper into the woods, the daylight filtered through the trees, dappling the road with patches of dappled sunlight. The atmosphere shifted, taking on a more rustic and mysterious quality, as if we were traveling to a hidden sanctuary known only to those in the know.
Finally, the outline of the dive bar came into view, its neon sign flickering to life as the day's light began to wane. Sunset Spirits stood as a weathered and welcoming oasis on the edge of the forest, beckoning travelers to leave their cares at the door and step into a world where time seemed to slow down.
The gravel parking lot crunched beneath our tires as we pulled in, and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilled out from within. Sunset Spirits had an unmistakable charm of its own, a place where locals gathered to unwind, share stories, and create memories that often blurred the line between truth and tall tale.
"What's George doing here?" I asked, leaning forward, trying to figure it out.
And there, leaning against the hood of his car, was George. Considering his messy hair, the blood running down his cheek, and a bruise under his right eye, I could tell he wasn't happy.