Pausing, Clyde took another long draw from his Slurpee straw. “It just didn’t make any sense from a scientific point of view. The devil and angels were myths as far as I was concerned.”
“Well, the devil’s no myth. It’s good you’re clear on that now.” She checked off a box on her inventory sheet, then said, “So tell me a little about what Clyde Atwell was like when he was alive.”
Rocking back on the stool, he propped his feet on the counter by her register. Pensive was the best word she could think of to describe the set of his face. Pensive with splashes of some distant regret. “The truth is he was self-absorbed, sometimes to the point of driving people away. His mother and father were gone, and he had no siblings, but he hopes if there really is a better place, they’re there when he gets there. Clyde Atwell spent a shitload of time in a lab, tinkering with his experiments and not nearly enough time doing life stuff. He read manuals and annals and prided himself on his research. But he never took a vacation. He never saw all the things, the places, he was so good at researching. He saw them from a computer screen and history books. He liked facts and figures and everything to make perfect, logical sense. He liked order in his world and in his theories about said world. Clyde’s come a long way in just three hellish months.”
Those facts were no surprise to Delaney. “And how old was Clyde when he died?”
“Almost thirty-seven.”
“That’s a long time to not do any of the things you wanted to do.”
There was definitely a trace of sadness to his next words. “Yeah, yeah it is. But I was sick for the better part of my early years and in bed more than out—books, facts, figures, television, and eventually the Internet were my friends. I had trouble relating to people because of it.”
“Sick?”
“Long story.”
One he wasn’t ready to share by the closed-off look his face took on. She got that. She could wait. If she were to treat him like any other crossing, she’d do it with a light, noninvasive hand. That’s what the plan was for now. “Were you close to your parents?”
The smile on his lips was fond, his whole being lighting up with affection. “I had great parents.”
“And they’ve passed?”
“Yeah. My mom just last year of pancreatic cancer and my dad about four years before in his sleep. I was a late-in-life baby for them. My mom found out she was pregnant when she was thirty-nine and my dad was forty-five. According to them, after almost twenty years of marriage, I was a miracle.” He shifted positions, dropping his feet and pulling the stool closer to where she was checking her inventory. “So how about you? I know about Kellen. Any other sisters or brothers I need to watch my ass with?”
Her laughter filled the store, but her eyes strayed to the floor to avoid his. “Sorry about that. Kellen’s very protective, and part of that has to do with the fact that we only have each other now. My mom died about thirteen years ago of Alzheimer’s and my dad a couple of years before my eighteenth birthday of a heart attack. So Kellen and I look out for each other.”
“It’s good to have someone to lean on.” His statement held hidden emotions she guessed had to do with not having any family left when his parents were gone.
“And you were a scientist or something smart, huh?”
“Freelance chemical research consultant. I was my own boss.”
“So where did Clyde Atwell hang his hat?”
He cocked his head. “I never wore a hat.”
Delaney sighed. “I didn’t mean literally. I mean figuratively. Like where did you live?”
“North Dakota.”
Well, there went the idea of making a visit to his swinging bachelor pad. Though, now that she had a definitive place he’d once resided, she could look more closely at the obits online in the North Dakota newspapers. But what the hell was Tia doing in New York if she was from North Dakota? And why had she shown up at that specific deli—one Delaney frequented every Sunday for lunch . . .
Suspicion reared its ugly head again. “If you’re from North Dakota, what was Tia doing in New York?”
“That was her brother you saw her with. He lives here—works as a stockbroker. She came here often to see him—so I’m vaguely familiar with the area.”
“You saw him?”
“Yeah, and thanks for trying to protect me from seeing what you thought was her boyfriend.”
“Don’t you find it suspicious that she was in a deli I go to every Sunday? That she was right in our immediate vicinity?”
“Not even a little. I think it was just a really big coincidence. Nothing more.”