Gathering up all the courage he possessed, which wasn't much but better than nothing, Oakley asked, "So what are your plans for the rest of the night?"
Arden made a face. "Laundry. Maybe food. I haven't decided if I'm going to order pizza, pick up Chinese on my way home, or just microwave something."
His courage tried to waver, but Oakley held onto it, licking his lips before saying, "I was thinking of going out for dinner. Somewhere halfway decent, like Midge's tavern. Would you like to come with me?"
Arden stilled in the middle of a laugh, gaping for a bare moment. "Yes! I mean, uh, sure. Let me get my coat and stuff." He hastened away, face red.
Leaving Oakley with a rapidly beating heart and the most hopeful he'd felt since the day his shop had started operating in the black. He went upstairs to get his own things, and when he came back down, Arden was waiting by the front door, wrapped up in his coat, fuzzy scarf, and heavy gloves.
"It's not that cold," Oakley said, shrugging into a medium-weight jacket and gloves.
Arden said something largely muffled by the scarf, but which was obviously disagreement.
Grinning, Oakley opened the door, ushered him out, and locked up behind them. They'd forgotten the paperwork, but he'd just get it in the morning when he came down to start baking.
Midge's was actually called the Main Street Tavern, but only outsiders called it that. It was a bit more of a walk than he preferred to take that late at night, but digging his car out, driving, and looking for a parking spot would take even longer. So walking it was, poor Arden shivering and chattering alongside him the whole time.
When they finally arrived and had settled at a table, Oakley ordered a beer for himself and an Irish Coffee for Arden. "What would you like for food, darlings?" asked Stacy, Midge's niece and the likely inheritor of the business someday.
"Mushrooms to start, and we'll figure out the rest after we've warmed up," Oakley said with a smile.
"You got it. Man, those cupcakes you made for Harold's retirement party were the best. Banana Cream Dream or something? I ate like ten of them. My ass isn't pleased about it, but I don't care." She winked and bustled off.
"I'm not sure why anyone would have complaints about her ass," Arden muttered, then flushed. "Sorry."
Oakley quirked a brow. "About what? Admiring Stacy's ass? You'd have to be dead not to."
Arden opened his mouth, then turned even redder and shut it. "So what were you thinking to eat?"
Oakley really wanted to know what he'd been about to say, but didn't press. "Fruit and walnut salad with tuna. You?"
"Steak," Arden said, not even having bothered to open up the menu. "How'd you know I'd go for the mushrooms?"
Giving him a look, Oakley replied, "Because you live off the mushroom soup at Veronica's all through fall. I don't think you eat anything else."
"Oh." Arden laughed and pushed at his glasses. "Guess I should have realized."
They lapsed into an easy silence, drinking, thawing, and enjoying the chance to breathe without work pressing on them. Usually Oakley felt horribly awkward on dates. It was just one reason he hadn't bothered to try any for a million years, even if mostly he'd simply been too busy.
The mushrooms came a moment later, and they put in their entrée orders, and Arden requested a soda. He munched on a couple of the stuffed mushrooms, not quite moaning. Oakley shifted in his seat and tried not to stare as he ate more slowly.
Once the soda arrived, Arden used it to wash down another mushroom, then asked, "So why…" He waved a hand. "All this. Asking me to dinner here, I mean. Instead of one of our usual haunts."
Oakley almost said it was just because he'd wanted a change from the usual cheap food they survived on. Or that he just didn't want to go home yet. But in the end, he used his flagging courage to reply honestly. "I wanted to. Finally did."
Arden's face lit up in a way that was absolutely beautiful. Oakley had never seen him look that way. He wanted that expression to stay there forever. He wanted to earn that look every day of his life.
Stacy brought them fresh drinks, but her hands trembled as she set them down. "Hey, guys, food's going to be a few minutes late. Did you want another app or anything to tide you over?"
"No, we're fine. There's no rush. We're both night owls, you know that. What's wrong, Stace?" Oakley reached out and took her hand. "Sit down a moment, yeah? There's no one here but us and ol' Freddie."
She hesitated a moment, but when Oakley tugged ever so faintly, she gave in and sat next to him. "Yamada and Richards just came by, spoke with Morris and left with him. Morris didn't say much, only that it had to do with his old man. I'm pretty sure from the questions I overheard that Bill is dead. And it wasn't a peaceful death." She stole the beer she'd just set down and drank half of it. "I think he was murdered."
"Jesus," Arden said. "Are you sure?"
"Ninety-nine percent," Stacy said.
"He lives on my street, right across from Yamada. He's such a nice guy." Arden shook his head. "Was, I guess. No offense, Stacy, but I hope you're wrong."
"Me too, honey. Me too. We called in our back up chef, but it's gonna take him a bit to get here. I'll bring you another beer, Oak." She patted his hand, then heaved out of her seat and was gone before they could get a word in edgewise.
"You think it's true?" Arden asked, all his earlier joy vanished. "I just spoke to him this morning. He was fussing about the weather and how it meant he wouldn't be able to attend his weekly poker game."
Oakley just shook his head, not certain what to say. Clint Richardson, who ran the kitchen, was a good man and a great cook. His father, Bill, was a pillar of the community. He'd done lawncare and landscaping for years, had retired only a few years ago, spent most of his time volunteering at the Lost Shifters Shelter working with abandoned youth, had a deft hand with the feral ones. Oakley volunteered a few times a month, and Bill was always right there, rocking a baby or reading books or coaxing a scared feral to come out from where it was hiding under a bed.
"Who in the world would want Bill dead?" Arden asked. "I can't even fathom it."
"You never know what will set people off," Oakley said quietly. "Someone you've known your whole life can turn just like that, over something you never even knew was a problem." Others, like his stupid family, had been an obvious threat the whole time, but nobody took them seriously because they were just a bunch of stupid trash pandas.
Arden's brow furrowed. "That sounds like personal experience."
"Not really. I always knew my family was rotten. I underestimated just how far they'd go, but it wasn't entirely a surprise either, if you know what I mean."
"A bit. Only family I have is my parents, and I'm currently not speaking with them."
"I'm sorry."
"Thanks, but don't be. They brought this on themselves, and they'll fix it or they won't." Arden lifted one shoulder. "In the meantime, I've got a pretty damn good life. Especially now the boss has asked me out." He winked.
Oakley frowned. "That's one of the reasons I hesitated so long. I don't—"
"Hey, let's focus on dinner for now. Everything else can wait. Who knows, maybe this will be a complete disaster. Then we can just go back to how we were, except with an awkward date story to tell."
"Good point. So have you heard anything more about the renovations they want to make to the high school?"
Arden grinned. "I heard there was a fight at townhall. Ms. Gibson threw a punch and everything."
"That can't be true."
Stacy came bustling up with their food and fresh drinks, and their momentary levity faded. She looked worse than ever and like she'd been crying.
"Stacy, what's up?"
She served up their food, then took a seat next to Oakley again. "It's true. He called to let us know he won't be in for a few weeks as he deals with everything. His father was—" she broke off, crying softly. "He was stabbed to death. Clint wouldn't say more than that, says he can't really talk too much about it, the police don't want a bunch of info on an open investigation spreading and stuff. How could someone do that to Bill?"
"I don't know," Oakley said quietly, no longer really hungry. "He was always so kind at the shelter. I've never heard a bad word about him." It sounded like a line, one of those things people always said when someone died, even if they'd been a raging asshole. But it was true in Bill's case. All Oakley could remember was how kind he'd been to those feral kids. "Poor Clint."
"Yeah." Stacy started to say more, but only shook her head and left.
They ate in silence for several minutes, every bite tasteless and forced down. Finally, Oakley just couldn't take it anymore. "I think we need to call this night a wash and try again some other time."
Arden sighed. "Yeah. Hard to have a fun date when a man is dead—was murdered. I always ran into him at the park. He loved to bask on the stones while I swam about in the pond. Never knew him to bother anyone. He's not even a venomous snake."
Oakley grimaced in agreement. Some of the more dangerous shifters, those who were venomous or just plain good at murdering if so inclined, like bears, were regarded warily—even treated somewhat outcast at times—by the rest of the shifter community. The snake that had adopted the wolf cubs had been feral as a child and was a copperhead, which had added to the drama when his adoption request had gone through.
Oakley had hoped it meant that adoption agencies everywhere would start loosening up, but the local one at least held firm that he was no fit father, being single and keeping strange hours (and being a raccoon).
They finished most of their food, had the rest packed up to go, and Oakley left Stacy a generous tip. It wasn't much, but hopefully it would add something positive to her shitty night. She and Clint had always had a bit of an on-off thing, casual and lowkey, but known about by everyone. He hoped they'd both be okay.
He and Arden trudged in silence back to the shop, but when they arrived, Oakley was loathe to part ways. "Want me to walk you home?"
Arden opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed. "I wouldn't mind it, actually. Who even knows how crazy it's going to be, or if I can even get on the street."
"Let's go, then."
"Ugh, why has it gotten colder?" Arden asked, folding his arms in front of him, reaching up briefly to yank his cap more firmly down on his head. He scowled at Oakley as they walked. "How are you so unaffected?"
"I'm fat," Oakley said with a laugh, smacking his stomach with both hands. "Lots of insulation. Raccoons aren't good for much, but we can handle the cold."
Arden laughed. "Not good for much. Right. Because the only platypus in the town is so useful outside of keeping the local cupcake industry organized and on time."
"It wasn't a platypus who tried to murder a prominent member of the Lost Shifters and her sons."
"Man, I would hate to be part of that family, whatever their species. Can you imagine?"
Oakley pinched his eyes shut, then dragged them open and forced the words out. Better now, before anything got serious or something. God he was stupid. He should have just kept everything as it was. "I don't have to imagine. The asshole who attacked them is one of my cousins. They live a few hours away, over in Cheswick County."
Arden stared at him, eyes going the size of Oakley's cupcakes. "Oh. Damn. That's got to suck. I know how much you want to adopt a kid someday. They probably fucked that right up for you, didn't they? No wonder you seem so down whenever the subject comes up."
"I—Thank you." Oakley looked away, determined not to cry from relief. He tried to keep his family history to himself, and so far it didn't seem to be much of a source of town gossip, but he was dreading the day it took center stage.
To his astonishment, Arden reached out and looped their arms together. "I know a bit about unbearable family, trust me."
Oakley smiled, and they walked on in silence, occasionally interspersed by a swear or two when snow or ice tried to get the better of them. It was a short walk, however, and the lights of multiple police cars became almost immediately visible, scattering across the houses and yards, painting the neighborhood in flashing red and blue that was further reflected by the snow.
Thankfully, nothing seemed to be barricaded as they reached Arden's block, except Bill's house.
They were nearly to Arden's house when a cop hailed them from where she was coming down the walkway of the house next door. "Arden, hey. Good timing. Can we speak for a few minutes?"
"Yeah, Zoe. Come on in." Arden pulled off his gloves as he led the way up the walk, fumbling his keys from a pocket as he reached the door.
Inside, the house was so toasty Oakley wanted to go right back outside. Instead, he poured them all water and carried it into the living room. He set one glass in front of Zoe, who sat in a chair, and then sat next to Arden on the sofa and handed off the second glass.
"I won't keep you long," Zoe said. "Just wanted to know if you heard or saw anything between five p.m. and nine p.m. this evening?"
"Uh, let's see. I was in the shop pretty much all day. I worked on the floor until three-thirty, then took a nap in the office for a few hours, then came back to do all the clean-up and closing stuff. Normally we close a lot sooner, but the day was unusually crazy. Then me and Oakley went to dinner, I guess that was about eight or so. Then he walked me home."
Zoe jotted a few things down. "Okay. If we have further questions, we'll be in touch." She stood and tucked her notebook away. "I'll see myself out." But after a few steps, she turned back. "You and Michi are friends, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Arden said. "Why?"
"He was removed from the case because he's too close to the victim. He was really bummed out by the whole thing. I mean, who wouldn't be? But he knew Bill better than most of us, since they lived right across the street from each other, and Bill's brother used to be a cop, so they're always chatting… Anyway, he could use some company, if you were inclined."
"I'll go see him. Can I get that close to the house?"
"Yeah, should be fine. I think they're wrapping soon, and it's only the victim's house that's cordoned off." She left with a small wave, and Arden closed the door behind her, then leaned against it. "Lord, what a night."
"Seriously," Oakley said. "Poor Yamada. I had no idea he and Bill were close."
"I did, but I didn't. Always saw them chatting, sometimes chilling on Bill's porch sharing a beer, helping Bill with stuff around the house or yard. Just thought they were good neighbors. Let me get changed real quick, get out of these work clothes, then we'll go see him." He pushed away from the door and headed down the hall, vanishing into the room at the far end.
We? As much as Oakley would love to go, see Yamada was okay—or would be—for himself, help out if he could… Well, they'd never really chatted much, save for at the shop and when they crossed paths around town. He seriously doubted Yamada wanted to see him right then. Arden, sure, they were clearly friends, really and actually. Oakley could also acutely recall the way Yamada had talked about Arden in the store parking lot.
Oakley was just the guy who made cupcakes. It'd make more sense if he just bowed out and went home.
Arden came back down the hall wearing a gray thermal Henley and a fleece-lined hoodie he hadn't zipped up yet, and a toboggan that looked handmade. By who? One of his parents? An old friend? A customer?
"Ready?" Arden asked as he pulled the hat on, hiding his beautiful auburn hair.
Oakley hesitated. Would it be better to tag along or stay out of the way?