“What else happened on your trip?” Greg was trying to make conversation and stay away from the facts of the murder. I could tell he was trying to lead me into a different conversation.
“Fine, I peeked at Doc’s report and looked up the toxin. So sue me.” I leaned forward. “But don’t you find it interesting that Anne might own the same type of frog?”
“Might or does? Did you ask her?”
I shook my head. “I was checking out and she was going into the store. The conversation was kind of short.”
“Do I have to say it?” Greg looked beaten down, and I felt guilty for even bringing up the subject.
“Stay out of the investigation. But you can’t come back and say I didn’t tell you what I knew. Like the girl sucking face with Kent the day he died.” I tapped my finger on the table for emphasis. Not hard, but enough that Greg grinned. “I’m serious. You tell me to stay out of the investigation, then you complain that I’m not telling you what I know. You can’t have it both ways.”
“Well, I could, if you would just stay out of the investigation. But you’re right about the beach meeting being important. It actually gave us a clue to follow. We got a plate off the beach security tape, but the car she drove was a rental. I’m talking to the rental agent tomorrow; they’re back on shift then. So, point taken.” He rubbed his temple. “This case is filled with angry, betrayed women; interviewing them all is giving me the hives. I just want to have a nice dinner with my girlfriend and not talk about finding a murderer. Who would have thought that South Cove was such a den for killers?”
I laughed at that and put on a fake accent. “But he was always so nice and quiet, you would have never known he was killing people right next door to our retirement home.”
That made Greg smile. “Exactly. So can we change the subject?”
“Aunt Jackie came by.”
He groaned. “Not exactly the change I wanted.”
“Okay, but FYI, I’m taking her into the city to talk to an attorney tomorrow afternoon. Just in case you’re looking for me.” I stood and walked over to the fridge. “I’ve got to make a salad to go with the kabobs. Caesar or garden?”
“Garden. I’ll help.” He came up behind me and pulled me back into a hug. “I adore you, you know that.”
“Back atcha.” I leaned back into his arms and for a minute, the two of us were all that mattered in the universe. Emma barked, her ball in her mouth.
“Hold on, girl. I’ve got some cooking to do.” Greg nodded to the door. “You want to go out to play while we get this done?”
Another bark and Emma went flying to the screen. After letting her out, Greg paused for a moment, staring out at the backyard.
“Hey, I thought you were helping?” I dug out the lettuce and other salad fixings, including the six bottles of different dressings I had in the fridge door. He walked back over, picked out home-style ranch, and pushed the rest toward me.
“What do you want?”
I smiled. “World peace, a chicken in every pot, and a good book to take me away.”
“Nice, but I meant for salad dressing. No use leaving all these out.” He glanced out the window again. “When did Gleason say they’d make a decision on the wall? I’d like to do some landscaping out back this summer if it’s not the birthplace of South Cove.”
Shrugging, I began to stick meat and veggies onto the metal skewers. “This summer, I hope. At least that’s what the last letter from the commission said. One way or the other, I’ll be glad when it’s over. Do you know how many townies ask me about it each week? I can’t tell if they’re rooting for me or seeing if I’m as crazy as they think.”
While dinner was grilling, Greg’s phone rang. He groaned and pulled it close to read the display. Answering, he shook his head at me. “Hey, Jim, what’s up?”
Jim King, Greg’s brother and the owner of the painting company whose crew painted my house, didn’t care for me one bit. He was hard and fast on Team Sherry, even though Greg tried to tell me I was paranoid. Last Thanksgiving, the guy had come for the meal, but spent most of his time outside on the deck with Greg and the other men. I took Greg’s glass into the kitchen to refill our iced tea and to give him some privacy for his call.
Greg met me at the door, phone call done. “You don’t have to leave when he calls, you know.”
I passed him his glass and sat on the swing. “I just like to give you some privacy.”
He came and sat by me. “I think it’s more than that, but I’ll let you slide. He’s taking us on a fishing trip next Sunday.”
“Fishing? Where?” I wondered how far into the woods we’d have to go to find a lake.
Greg’s face almost exploded, his grin was that wide. “The ocean, silly. We’ll be pulling in the big boys, and we can stock that freezer of yours to the gills.”