Mac pulled the steaks off the grill and we went inside. He opened a bottle of wine while I took two steaming-hot baked potatoes out of the oven and gave the salad one more toss. We sat down at the dining table and he poured wine into our glasses. Robbie toed the line he wasn’t allowed to cross, but let out a few soft whines in the back of his throat.
Mac lifted his glass. “Here’s to small towns.”
I smiled, tipped my glass against his, and drank. As I cut into my perfectly grilled steak, I said, “If you were writing a story based on everything that’s happened since Jesse died, how would you approach it?”
His forehead furrowed as he thought about it. “Mainly, I would find a way to fit all these disparate elements together. They might not seem related, but they are. So what links these three people together?”
“You mean Andrew and Jesse and Bob, right? Are you sure Bob belongs?”
“Sure, he fell into a coma from some mistake with his insulin.”
“True enough.”
“Once in a while I might make a character like Bob a red herring. But for the purposes of my book, let’s say they’re all legitimately connected. Great salad, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“So now we ask ourselves some questions.”
“Okay.”
He took a sip of wine as if priming his internal pump. “We’ve got our three victims. What do we know about them?”
We talked back and forth and laid out every detail that might be relevant, starting with Jesse, the most familiar victim to me, then Andrew, and finally Bob.
“So you found out about Andrew’s death from one of the guys on your crew?”
“Right. My guy Douglas has a brother, Phil, who works at the Inn on Main Street and was in Andrew’s room a few times.”
“And he thinks the dead guy was having an affair? Why?”
I thought back to the conversation with Douglas. “Phil smelled a woman’s perfume in the room a few times.”
“Did he see the woman enter the hotel room?”
“I don’t know. Douglas didn’t say.”
Considering, Mac asked, “Do you have Douglas’s phone number?”
“Of course, but I shouldn’t call now.” I checked the clock on the kitchen wall. “It’s almost seven thirty.”
Mac gave me a cockeyed look.
“I mean, I’m his boss and it’s nighttime. He won’t love hearing from me.”
“We need information. It’s important.”
“What if he doesn’t answer?”
He raised one eyebrow. “He’ll answer a call from his boss.”
“True.” I grabbed my phone and placed the call. When Douglas answered, I pressed the speaker button and set the phone on the table between me and Mac.
“Hey, boss. What’s up?”
“Sorry to bother you, Douglas. This is unrelated to work, but I was thinking about how your brother found that dead guy.”
“Right. Weird, huh?”
“Yeah. Phil said the guy was having an affair. Did he actually see a woman in his hotel room?”
Douglas chuckled. “Wow, boss. You sound like a cop.”
“Yeah, sorry. I get a little carried away sometimes.”
“That’s cool. Phil’s right here. Let me put him on the line.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Hey, Shannon. How’s it hanging?”
I gave Mac a blank look and he chuckled as he took a bite of potato.
“It’s hanging like sunshine, Phil.” Oh boy. I sounded like Mrs. Higgins. “Listen, I was wondering.” I asked him about the possibility that Andrew Braxton had been having an affair.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “There was definitely a woman in there.”
“How do you know? Did you see her?”
“Didn’t have to. I smelled her perfume.”
Mac and I exchanged another look. “Perfume.”
“Yeah. It was nice.”
“But you never saw a woman go in the room.”
“Nope, just smelled her,” he said.
“Did you ask Mr. Braxton about her?”
“Nope. I just sort of gave him a wink, like, dude, you’re an animal.”
I rolled my eyes and Mac choked down a laugh.
It was probably stupid to ask Phil this question, but I forged ahead. “Did you recognize the scent?”
He chuckled. “Oh yeah. Sexy flowers. Nice.”
Not helpful, I thought. “Okay, great. Thank you, Phil. I really appreciate your talking to me.”
“No problemo,” he said.
I ended the call and stared at Mac. “I worry about our youth.”
“Don’t. He was just being a guy.”
“I worry about our guys, too.”
He nodded philosophically. “You probably should.”
After pouring us both more wine, Mac continued. “I’m sorry to dash cold water on Phil’s story, but in my experience, the scent of perfume is best used as a red herring.”
“Why is that?”