Chapter 15

 

The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep
No, I'll not weep

 

 

 

A week and a half had gone by since Eddie Edgar died. Thomi was still in the hospital but was due to get out after the weekend.

Are we friends? I don’t think so. I don’t trust Thomi…

Becca, Ty, and Bogart made sure King Lears was up and running every day while Delia took time off to heal—and to mourn her father.

They are my true friends.

She’d come home fairly quickly from the hospital, but had stayed with Lily for a week since Delia hadn’t the energy to climb three and a half flights of stairs yet. She came home yesterday.

And got my cat back, thank you.

Honestly, Titus really did think Clawdius was his cat with the way he’d filled his apartment with cat toys and houses … and too many treats. In the end, Titus agreed to joint custody of the cat and said he didn’t mind pitching in on the vet bills.

Clawdius was curled up at Delia’s feet at the moment. She stared out the window as the daylight turned to dusk. She had her cozy knitted throw in a basket beside the loveseat where she lounged. On the coffee table, she had placed a fat pumpkin and cream-colored candles to brighten her tiny apartment and bring in the colors of fall.

She knew she’d mourn her father for a long time, but coming back home had helped her to look forward to things again. Christmas wasn’t so far away and there was the festival to get excited about at Bloomfield Hatch.

A knock sounded on the door, and Delia turned.

Detective Nicolo Montague stuck his head around the corner. “Don’t get up.”

She didn’t, but Delia did put her feet on the floor and sit upright. She’d known he was on his way up. He’d visited her in the hospital a couple of times and had brought her marigolds in a glass container to sit in her window.

It’s almost as though he likes me…

No, no way. He’s still mourning Juliet’s marriage.

He set a gallon of Cheery Cherry ice cream on the counter and then found two spoons in the kitchen. Once he came around the corner again, Nicolo took a seat on the coffee table and handed Delia one of the spoons. “How do you feel?”

“Better today. What are we celebrating?”

He smiled, his blue eyes going to her throat where there were still dark marks and green blotches marring her skin. “Daniel Curran had his court date, just the first of many. He has a lot of charges against him. The more we looked into him, the more corruption we found. That’s what the ice cream is all about, Delia.” He held up his spoon in cheers.

Delia tapped hers against his. “And Chu Hua?”

“No murder charges pending, but plenty of felony charges.”

They shared the ice cream for several minutes without saying anything. It was on the tip of Delia’s tongue to ask Nicolo to dinner. Maybe they could keep cheering each other up, him in the case of Juliet, and Delia for her father.

Ask him to coffee, Ty’s voice said in her head. That way if you don’t like him …

Yeah, right.

Taking a deep breath, Delia said, “Nicolo, when I get more energy—tomorrow probably—and I find a nice turtleneck to cover my injuries, will you have coffee with me?”

His blue eyes found hers, and they tightened at the corners.

Oh my goodness, why did I ask? Of course he’s going to say no. Nicolo Montague is way out of my league.

He leaned forward an inch. “No, I will not have coffee with you.”

All her breath left her. She was dying again. What made me think to ask him? Oh God.

“But I do want to take you to dinner, Delia.”

She gasped. “But, Nicolo. Dinner is such a big commitment.”

“Yes,” he said, with a firm nod. “I think I can trust you with that.”