The Marsh Madness

“Maybe,” Lance said. “You’d think the Kauffmans would have a landscape maintenance service. Of course, I don’t move in those circles either.”


I nodded. “I think you’re right, but he definitely wasn’t Chadwick’s butler, because as it turns out, there wasn’t a butler at Summerlea. We’ll have to keep thinking about what his appearance means and digging around, no pun intended, until we find out.”

“Maybe they wanted you to feel you were in a Downton Abbey knockoff?”

“What do you mean?”

“Thomas is a character in that series. Starts as a footman and never makes it to valet, let alone butler. He’s always a wannabe, and one with evil intentions.”

I blinked. I hadn’t thought that much about the butler and his intentions. I’d been concentrating on “Chadwick” or whoever he was and “Miss Troy,” who we now knew was Shelby Church. I hadn’t thought about any deeper meaning in the character of Thomas.

Lance said cheerfully, “I believe we agreed all this would be over lunch, Jordan.”

“My pleasure.”

I could feel the disappointment level rise as we waltzed out of the reference department.


*

AS WE PULLED away from the parking lot, in the Saab, I couldn’t help but notice a dark sedan out of the corner of my eye. I squinted. “Don’t look now,” I said, “but is that by any chance Tyler Dekker lurking? Lance! What part of ‘don’t look’ isn’t clear?”

“Why is he being such a jerk?” Lance muttered.

“You tell me. He broke up with me.”

Lance’s head snapped. “What?”

“Dumped me when the cops started to investigate us. Didn’t I mention it?”

“What a total—”

“Staying with me would be a career impediment.”

“And now he’s willing to spy on you for the cops? How low can a guy go?”

I shrugged. I’d done my best not to be miserable over Tyler, and I didn’t want to wallow. I had lots of stuff to do, and I needed to be coolheaded and tough. “I’m over it.”

“Huh. That was speedy. But it’s good. You are too special, Jordan, to put up with these losers. You need to learn how to avoid bad boyfriends.”

“Wow. And I’d already agreed to pay for lunch,” I said.

“Admit that it’s true.”

“You can hardly call him a bad boyfriend, Lance. Tyler was almost perfect until . . . this thing. Don’t roll your eyes.”

“Exceptional? I don’t think so. Here’s a small-town cop with aspirations to be a small-town detective, and the minute you interfere with his plans, there you are.”

“Where?”

“Gone.”

“I’m right here.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Jordan. You know what I mean. Dumped. Discarded. Abandoned.”

“He broke up with me. He didn’t leave me in the middle of the desert without any water.”

“You don’t need to pretend to be brave with me,” Lance said. “You’ve cried on my shoulder before, you know.”

A person could be forgiven for having no idea at all what was being said in our conversation. Lance may be adorable, but he has this weird little way of making oblique yet dramatic allusions.

I slammed on the brakes to avoid going through one of the few red lights in Harrison Falls.

“It’s not the first time he’s let you down, Jordan.”

“I hope you aren’t talking about last fall when I needed him and my life might have depended on him and he vanished with no explanation.”

Lance opened his mouth.

I continued, “Because you were also totally unavailable when I needed you and when, may I repeat, my life might have depended on you.”

Lance sputtered, “You know why that was. Tiff and I explained everything. We had an excellent reason. And it was months ago.”

“Well, Tyler had an excellent reason too. And—”

“Maybe I’m not talking about him.”

“What?”

“You know who I mean.”