“You’re mean.” I dipped a fry into ketchup and bit into the crunchy slice of salty heaven.
He scraped the last bite of gravy off his plate. Greg was a member of the clean plate club. At least when he was hungry and liked the food in front of him. Once when I made a creamy shrimp over potato gnocchi, he picked out all the shrimp and left the gnocchi. But at least he tried it. The man could be a picky eater. When Carrie picked up his plate and refilled his glass, she paused.
“You want some apple pie? Fresh this morning from Sadie’s bakery.” She glanced at me. “Looks like you still have a ways to go before you need dessert.”
“Thanks. Bring over a piece with a scoop of ice cream on the top.” Greg grabbed one of my fish fillets and consumed it in two bites.
“So why did you visit Vintage Duds?” I grabbed the last piece of fish before it disappeared like the other one.
“I’m a cop. I investigate. Until Doc Ames tells me Kent’s time on this world was up naturally, I question people.” Greg settled for a few more of my fries. “You’re not going to let this go, are you? Sherry was at the winery just before our practice started. The tapes show her sitting in her car for ten minutes, then storming into the tasting room. Twenty minutes later, she gets back in her car.”
“Do you think Sherry might have killed him?” Part of me was cheering Greg’s calm demeanor, especially since his ex-wife might be a murderer. Another part knew it was probably awkward if not impossible for him to stay totally impartial.
“We don’t know if anyone killed him. Seriously, Jill, you need to stay out of this. I’m the investigator in the relationship. If I need help, I’ll work with Doug over in Bakerstown PD.” He shrugged as Carrie set the pie in front of him. “I can tell you this, all I know is she was there and now, I know her side of the story. She claims she got an anonymous text saying Kent was meeting another woman for drinks. When she got there, all she found was Darla and Matt getting ready for the rehearsal.”
“Now, was that so hard to say? Sometimes you take all the fun out of my day.” I broke off a bit of the flaky crust before he could move the plate out of my reach.
“Yeah, like when I try to keep you safe?” He cut a large bite and popped the treat into his mouth.
I leaned back, ignoring the cinnamon smell that was making my mouth water. Usually, one bite satisfied my craving. And I’d had freaking cheesecake for breakfast. Now, all it had done was whet my appetite. Kind of like Greg’s denials about Kent’s death status.
Greg cleared off the last bite of the pie and pointed his full fork at me. “I’m serious, Jill. You deal with your business, I’ll deal with mine.”
I watched the fork as he waved it in the air in front of me, thinking of grabbing the utensil and ignoring his clear directions.
A smile crossed Greg’s lips, right before he devoured the last bit of pie. “I know you can hear me.” He pushed the plate aside. “Look, sorry I broke our agreement about Sherry, but my visit was part of my job. That’s the last I’m going to say about it.”
“So should Sherry get a lawyer?” I smiled at my own joke. Before he could answer, his phone buzzed with a text.
He thumbed to the message, then put the phone in his pocket. When he stood, putting cash on the table for the meal, I wasn’t surprised. This was life dating a cop; plans got changed with a phone call. He kissed the top of my head. “I have a lot on my mind. I’ll call you later.”
I watched him stride out of the diner, wondering when I’d see him again. Dinner, if Kent had been called up naturally by Saint Peter’s list. Next month, if someone had moved him up the list intentionally. No matter what Greg said, when murder happened on his watch, my life was always involved, even when I tried to stay out of it.
After running with Emma to counteract at least a few of the lovely fat-filled calories I’d consumed that day, it was time to throw a load of laundry into the washer and make a list of the things I wanted to do on my first day off of the week. Usually, I read most of the day, ran with Emma, and did the few house chores needing done. Living alone with my dog as company, the house didn’t get extremely dirty. So I didn’t worry about extreme cleaning. The situation worked for both of us.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved my little house. Especially now that the downstairs had been painted and filled with keepsakes from my life instead of the prior owner’s, Miss Emily. The woman loved her crosswords. I was still finding piles of ripped pages from the local paper with half-completed puzzles upstairs as I tried to clean out the other two bedrooms. I glanced upstairs, weighing the thought of digging into cleaning one of the bedrooms versus reading the few final chapters in the contemporary romance. Love won out.
It always does.