Belfry’s tiny hands pulled him up along my body until he was at my ear. “Cheer up, Stevie. We ordered pizzzaaaa,” he enticed.
“Oh, nice. Gobs of cheese and pepperoni will make a killer running free so much easier to digest.”
Win made a funny gagging noise from his throat. “No pepperoni. That’s for heathens. Olives and sausage with plump Roma tomatoes make a pizza, Stevie. Anyone with taste buds knows that.”
I sat up, taking Bel with me. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not hungry anyway. I can’t eat while there’s a murderer out there, Win. And what the heck did Madam Z mean when she mentioned Dan knew? She said cluck-cluck and Dan knows.”
“She did. Maybe she’s just disoriented at this point. Maybe she’s throwing out words relating to what troubled her before she died. Obviously, Von Adams met with Dan. We know that. Or maybe she threw those key words out there to get us to the inn?”
“According to Luis, Chicken-Man has an alibi. So, if it’s not Hendrick Von Adams then it has to be the fish-and-chips guy. I feel it. I mean, who else is left except for Dan? The only person we haven’t questioned. But he doesn’t feel right, yanno?”
“I do know,” Win answered.
“So this fish-and-chips guy… Who is he?” I asked more to myself than anyone else as I climbed out of the bed and slid to the floor, dropping into my discarded work boots.
Thankfully, the police hadn’t torn up my new bed—much. I’d expected to find stuffing from my pillows from one end of the room to the other, but it had been mostly untouched.
They had, however, rifled through all my suitcases.
“Tell me what Luis said and where we’re at right now.”
I grabbed my robe and slid into it, fighting the chilly memory the police station brought. “He said there was absolutely no reason to panic and he’d eat his own shoes if they actually came up with something solid to convince a judge to lock me up. I told him that I hoped he had soft shoes, the way my luck’s been going. He laughed, which, BTW, I didn’t think he was capable of because he’s crazy serious and that glare he has is intimidating as all get out. Anyway, he told me to lay low, don’t leave town, the norm, and not to worry. But this changes nothing as far as I’m concerned. Someone got away with murdering MZ and is trying to frame me for it. I can’t live with that, Win. I have to find whoever did this.”
Win’s voice followed me as I made my way down the stairs, stepping over and around the various loose boards. “That’s the spirit. A much better attitude! Now, you need to eat. You haven’t had anything since breakfast. Once we have some food in you, we’ll hash out what we discovered today.”
I wandered down the hallway, stepping around the table saw by the wall of the stairs and headed to the kitchen, fumbling around for a light, still unclear of the house’s layout. When I flicked the switch, I inhaled.
“Is Enzo a magician?” I asked, amazed at his progress. The entire wall into the dining room had been knocked out, all the old flooring was now gone, leaving the space even more open and airy.
The windows facing the Sound, eight in total, were trimmed in the same thick wood that was in my nook bed, and an unpainted window seat sat enticingly beneath the middle three windows.
A design for the layout of the cabinets and appliances was sitting by the microwave, waiting for my approval, but I couldn’t absorb it all right now.
I made my way to the tiny fridge Enzo had brought in and grabbed a bottled water, staring out into the dark night.
“So do you like the layout of the kitchen, Stevie?” Win finally asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Sure. It looks like it should be easy enough to find a place for my Pop-Tarts and crunchy peanut butter with all those cabinets.”
“There’s just no educating you, is there?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “I told you, I don’t cook. I don’t want to learn to cook. I can just as easily order in or eat cereal.”
“Speaking of your underdeveloped taste buds and food for ten-year-olds, didn’t you have a date with Sherwood Forrest tonight?”
Remorse tweaked me. “I did, but I canceled. First, I don’t want to subject him to the kind of treatment I’ve been getting around town lately. Second, my heart’s not in it. I can’t think of anything else until we at least get a lead on fish-and-chips guy. So I texted him and asked for a rain check. Though, if I were him, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere with me.”
There was a loud knock at the door, thwarting more conversation about Forrest. I set Belfry on the counter on a hand towel. “You wait here. I’ll be back to get your dinner.”
Though I was feeling pretty blue, the thought of some food did cheer me up. My stomach was a sea of acid from nothing but liquids today.
The light to the front porch didn’t work yet, so I couldn’t see very well. But seriously, who’d haul themselves up that steep, muddy incline but a teenager who might get a tip out of it?