I would have turned around and walked away except that Detective Nichols was standing beside him. It was the perfect opportunity. Tak and I hadn’t spoken since the fried rice incident, and this would establish to both of them that I was just another person in Proper City who was participating in a Proper City event.
It was also the perfect opportunity to ask the detective about the Columbo coat, and since Tak had been at the party, maybe he could contribute something to the conversation.
“Detective Nichols, Tak, nice to see you both,” I said. My voice came out higher than usual.
Tak stepped toward me, putting himself between us. “I heard about your father. Is everything okay?”
It was the one question I hadn’t been prepared for. The ground shifted underneath me and I swayed. Tak put a hand out around my waist and stabilized me. I looked over his shoulder at Detective Nichols, who had focused her attention on the grill.
“He’s in stable condition,” I said. “The hospital in Moxie is keeping him. They don’t think it’s a good idea for him to be in a car for the amount of time it’ll take for him to get home. Not yet. How did you know?”
“Word gets around. I saw that the shop was closed yesterday and I was worried.”
“I don’t think you should be worrying about me,” I said. I cut my eyes to Detective Nichols again, who had joined a crowd of people by the poster of Blitz.
“I can’t help it.”
The tone of his voice caught me by surprise and I looked back into his eyes. For the first time since I’d met him, I noticed how dark brown they were, how the color almost dissolved into the iris. I felt the same way I did the first time Magic Maynard held his spinning wheel up in front of me and told me to focus on the center. Disoriented and dizzy and a little bit drunk. I hadn’t realized how close we were standing to each other, but all of a sudden Tak was the only person I was aware of.
“Your dad’s going to be okay,” he said gently. And with that, my eyes filled with tears like they had at the hospital and overflowed down my cheeks. He brushed them away. I stepped back and his hand dropped.
“Will you be at the store later tonight?” he asked. “We should talk about what happened at the restaurant.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.”
“I do.”
“Why? I didn’t know, but now I do, so it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. Whatever you think you know, you don’t.”
Just what I needed in my life. Another person who spoke in riddles.
“Tak, I came over here to talk to Detective Nichols. She was here a second ago. Do you know where she went?”
“She’s sitting at the picnic table with Linda Cannon.”
“Okay, thanks.” I turned away and he reached out and caught my hand. “Tonight. Eight o’clock?”
“Fine.”
I left while I still had most of the control over my emotions. I wasn’t the only person shedding tears—it was a memorial—but having known Blitz Manners for less than a week made my tears seem forced. I didn’t want to talk about my dad’s heart attack in this crowd. It felt private, like if I kept it a secret from the rest of the world, I could pretend it never happened.
Detective Nichols was finishing up with her burger when I reached her. It struck me as an odd choice to serve hamburgers and hot dogs at a memorial service, but who was I to criticize? Several hundred people had shown up to pay their respects. I suspected everyone in the town of Proper felt unease over the murder of one of the residents. On some level, this was what everyone needed.
I sat across from Detective Nichols before she stood up. “Don’t leave. I want to talk to you.”
She crumpled up a black paper napkin and rolled it into a ball between the palms of her hands. Finally, she leaned back and set the ball down in the middle of the empty, black paper plate. Everything that Candy Girls had provided—the cups, napkins, plasticware, and plates—was black. The only color in the area was the floral arrangement that sat next to the photo of Blitz, a three-foot-wide burst of oranges, reds, and yellows that had been donated by Packin’ Pistils.
I leaned forward. “There was a crime scene cleanup crew at the fire hall yesterday. Did you know that?”
“I’m not surprised. Once we process a crime scene, it’s up to the businesses to decide how they want to handle things.” She shook her head and made a face like her hamburger wasn’t sitting well. “It usually doesn’t take that long to clear a scene, but with that many people at the hall when the murder happened, we wanted to make sure that we didn’t miss anything.”
“Do you feel confident that you didn’t?”
“Ms. Tamblyn, maybe you want to stop beating around the bush and ask whatever it is you came over here to ask me.”