Bun for Your Life (12 page)

She laughed. “I get the picture. Oh, I almost forgot. Emily said Enid's giving a talk at the bookstore next Wednesday night. Want to go?”

“Sounds fun. Sure.”

“Call me when you get home from the mall if you want to talk about Brian and Lola.”

“I will. If I don't talk to you, I'll see you in the morning.”

The next day flew by. Bread and Batter was busier than usual, but nothing happened out of the ordinary. On the way home, I picked up a copy of
The Destiny Trumpet
. As Olivia had said, Bread and Batter was on the front page. I sat in my car and read the article. There wasn't much to it, but she'd done a good job of answering the reporter's questions.

Although calling Bobby Crandall a reporter was a stretch. Like other reporters for
The Destiny Trumpet
, he had a full-time job. His was selling Fords at his family's dealership. But maybe the article really would help business. The customers he'd interviewed had nothing but good things to say about the bakery. That was a relief. We didn't need any bad press.

I took a long, hot shower when I got home, then dressed for my date with Sean. I left my hair down so it hung to the middle of my back, then used the curling iron on it. I put on the lip gloss, eye shadow, and mascara I'd bought the day before. After putting on my sweater and coat, grabbing my new purse, and stuffing my notes and library printouts in it, I was ready to go.

Twenty seconds later I was knocking on Sean's door. I was nervous. I knew nothing about the man. What if he was the killer? Here I was driving all the way to the other side of the lake with him. What was I thinking? I was seriously considering making a run for it when his door opened.

Determined to forget his questions the other day about my great-grandmother, I put on my brightest smile. “Hi. Ready?”

He nodded, without smiling, and stepped out. He didn't seem to notice how nicely I'd cleaned up. He was wearing a dark suit and tie, and I got a whiff of his cologne as I waited while he locked up. Peak of masculinity, huh? I couldn't disagree, plus he did smell divine.

“You mind if I drive?” he asked eyeing my Prius with a definite look of disdain. “Your car looks way too small for both of us. It looks too small for one of us.”

I opened my mouth to inform him we would both fit with no problem, then decided not to. Even though my little hybrid gets excellent gas mileage, I didn't mind not using my gas after paying so much money for one evening with Sean.

He held the passenger side door open for me, which I appreciated. I managed to climb into his behemoth truck, with his assistance, without being too unladylike about it. I looked around as he went around to the other side. No used cups in the cup holders, no CDs in the tray that was part of the console, no dangly things hanging from the mirror. It was immaculate. I had no choice but to be impressed.

After getting settled and pulling on his seat belt, Sean turned on his GPS. “Camberas?”

“Yes. It's on the highway, maybe fifteen minutes away.” I waited as he programmed his GPS. “Will Beau be okay?”

“He'll be fine. I took him out before we left. We aren't going to be gone that long.”

We rode in silence for a few minutes until he spoke. “What kind of food does this place have?”

“Italian,” I replied. “Spaghetti, ravioli, fish, chicken, veal, lasagna. Their garlic knots and salads are delicious. I guess
I should have asked if Italian was okay with you, I'm sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Italian's always good. How's their veal?”

“I don't know. I'm a vegetarian.”

He glanced at me. I almost laughed at his incredulous expression. As if I had just told him I routinely ate worms and grasshoppers for breakfast.

“You don't eat meat ever?”

“Not since I was seventeen.”

“That's too bad. Did you have to become one of those because of an allergy?”

“One of those”? “No. It's not too bad, it's a choice. I'm a lacto-ovo vegetarian.”

“A what? Is that some kind of weird food cult?”

This time I did laugh at the expression on his face. “That means I eat milk products and eggs, but no meat, fish, seafood, or chicken. I believe eating meat is bad for our environment, and our oceans are overfished. I'm trying to do my part for the Earth.”

A tiny frown creased his brow. He looked as if what I'd said had left a bad taste in his mouth. “Is it going to bother you if I eat meat?”

“Not at all. I don't tell other people what to eat, what cars to drive, or how to vote.” At least I try not to. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes not.

“I'm glad to hear that. I'm not on board with this whole global warming, hug a tree thing. I eat meat, chicken, and fish, and I drive a big truck. Don't expect me to apologize.”

“Don't worry, I don't.” It was time for a subject change. “Why don't we talk about something else?”

“Good idea.”

“Mets or Yankees?”

“You like baseball?” he answered as he concentrated on the road.

“Love it. I'm a huge Yankees fan. My whole family is.”

This time a smile did play at his lips. “Red Sox.”

I gaped at him. I hate the Red Sox. “The Red Sox? Are you kidding me? Aren't you from New York City?”

He nodded. “It's a long story. I've always been a Boston fan. My grandfather and father are from Boston. My dad was signed by Boston.”

“Your father played baseball? What's his name?” I was impressed, even if he did play for the team I hated most.

“You've never heard of him. He never made it out of the minors.”

“Oh. I'm sorry. That would have been awesome if he had.”

“Yeah, it would have been. He became a teacher instead.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

He stole a look at me. “Are you interrogating me, Ms. Tyler?”

I think he was teasing me, but it was hard to tell. “No. I'm just trying to make conversation.”

“Silence isn't always a bad thing.”

Was he telling me I talked too much? I opened my mouth to retort, but he'd decided to answer my question. “Classic rock. Jazz. What about you?”

“Jazz, not so much. I listen to country music and I like some oldies that my grandparents like. I guess country music isn't your thing.”

“You're right, it's not.”

If my mother was at home planning my wedding to Sean, she could stop right now. So far, we were batting zero on what we had in common. At least I'd gotten a hint of a smile from him. We both liked dogs, but that was hardly enough on which to build a lifelong relationship. What if he hated children? Asking a man how he felt about having children probably wasn't a good question for a first date. This wasn't even a date, really. More like a business transaction.

I was glad we were almost at the restaurant. I'd wait till we'd eaten before I brought out my notes, tell him what I'd found about Trey and Blake, and asked him where he was in the investigation. Maybe he'd be more receptive with a full stomach.

There hadn't been any more in the papers, or news, about suspects in Calista's murder, and still no one was under arrest. “You told Brian at Calista's funeral you wanted to get away from the big city and come to a smaller town. How come?” He wasn't the only one with a good memory.

I wondered if he'd made some kind of tragic mistake in New York and had been forced to move. Then I wondered how good he actually was at being a detective, since he hadn't solved Calista's murder yet. Maybe he'd been dismissed. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Had my question made him uncomfortable? Maybe I should be a detective. I was good at noticing little details like that.

As a matter of fact, there was something bothering me about Calista's murder. Not the actual murder—it was something someone said. But I couldn't remember now. I couldn't even remember who said it. It was one of those thoughts that dance around the back of your brain, and you can't bring it forward no matter how hard you try.

“I needed a change of scenery,” Sean replied.

“You certainly accomplished that. Destiny is definitely a drastic change from New York. I've been there twice, and it was great to visit, but I couldn't live there. When Calista's murder is solved, what are you going to do? It's not like we have people murdered here every week.”

“I'll think of something, don't worry.”

“But,” I persisted, “why so far away from New York? You must miss it a lot.”

He blew out a long breath heavy with frustration. At what I couldn't imagine. Being out with me? All my attempts at conversation? The fact we had nothing in common?

“I don't miss it. My wife was killed in a car accident in Manhattan a year ago. We'd been married for ten years. I didn't want to be there anymore. It's not something I want to talk about, so please don't bring it up again.”

So, I
had
seen pain flash in his eyes the night of the auction. No wonder. My heart squeezed, and I felt incredibly sad for him. I resisted the urge to touch his arm. I didn't think he'd like that. “Sean, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that must feel like.”

“Thanks. No, you can't imagine unless it happens to you. Can we drop it now?”

“Of course.”

I didn't say anything else. From the stark look on his face, he was thinking of his wife and struggling to get his emotions in check. I didn't dare ask what her name was, and I didn't want to intrude on his private thoughts. I felt bad for making him talk about something that had hurt him so deeply, but, in my defense, I'd had no idea.

I was thinking more that he was a rogue cop who had worn out his welcome in the Big Apple and was seeking solace in a small town where no one knew him and he could start over. I guess he was starting over, come to think of it.

“What about you?” he asked after we'd driven a few miles in silence. “Have you lived in Destiny all your life?”

“Yes. I love it here. I don't think I'd want to live anywhere else. I was born at Destiny Memorial.”

“You don't want to travel, see more of the world—or the United States?”

“I'd love to travel. I spent time in London during college and liked it. But I'm happy living in Destiny.”

He didn't reply. I was glad when we parked and made our way inside Camberas. There were lots of cars in the parking lot, but since I'd made reservations, we had a table waiting. The maître d' led us to a square table for four in the back. It was better than one of the smaller, more intimate tables, as it would give me room to spread out my notes when the time came.

There was a loud party going on in one of the back rooms; it was a smallish restaurant, so the back room wasn't that far in the back. We took a few minutes to study the menu. Sean ordered the veal limone, I ordered vegetarian lasagna, and we both ordered salads. He ordered an iced tea and I had water.

Halfway through my meal I excused myself to go to the ladies' room. I was getting a headache from the laughter and noise of the party in the other room. That, and the fact that this had to be the most uncomfortable so-called date I'd been on in a long time. I don't think Sean was that comfortable, either. He was probably a guy who was most in his element while working. I wondered if work was how he avoided thinking of his deceased wife every second.

I locked myself in one of the three stalls in the tiny ladies' room, hoping I had remembered to put aspirin in my purse so I could take it upon my return to the table. I heard the outside door open as I was finishing up and pulling up my panty hose.

“That chicken is to die for. The bread! This is some party, Kate.” The woman laughed. “I guess I should get used to calling you mom.”

I froze mid–panty hose pull up. Was that Lola's voice? Oh my God. No! It couldn't be. But that voice. “Kate” had to be Brian's mother, Kate.

I yanked my panty hose up the rest of the way and left the stall to come face-to-face with Lola, Kate, and Jane.

“Molly? What are you doing in here?” Jane was the first to talk, which surprised me.

“Molly! How are you?” Kate asked. “This is a nice surprise. Isn't that the detective who's looking into Calista's murder you're with tonight? I didn't want to come over and disturb you. You look wonderful together. Very handsome man, and you are gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Kate,” I said. “Hi, Jane. Hi, Lola.”

“I think I need to talk to a detective,” said Jane, looking around. “I have something to tell him. I don't know what in the world it is. Where is he?”

“Shhh, Mom,” Kate soothed. “You don't need a detective tonight.”

Jane nodded, but she shifted from one foot to the other and plucked at her sweater.

“Ex-cuuuse me, I don't want to pee on the floor.” Lola ignored my greeting as she elbowed her way past me. A little more aggressively than was warranted, I might add. I wondered why she had issues with me. She was engaged to Brian; I wasn't. I had moved out of the funeral home, as she requested.

“We're having a little party for Lola and Brian's engagement,” Kate explained.

“So you guys are the ones making all that noise.” I smiled at her.

“Yes, I'm afraid we are the guilty party,” Kate said, laughing.

“Aren't you Molly? Why aren't you sitting with us?” Jane asked, looking confused. “Brian's been looking for you.”

Somehow, I didn't think so, but I was happy Jane recognized me again. She must still be on the medication Brian had mentioned.

Kate smiled at me and mouthed,
Sorry
. “Mom, Molly isn't married to Brian anymore. He's engaged to Lola.”

Jane grimaced. “Lola? Who's Lola? Please. Get me out of here.”

“Nice seeing you, Molly.” Kate winked at me as she inclined her head toward Jane and ushered her into the handicapped stall.

“You too, Kate. Good-bye, Jane.” I decided it wasn't good etiquette to speak to someone in a bathroom stall, so I declined to say good-bye to Lola. Somehow, she'd survive my slight.

“Who is that woman? Why are we talking to her?” Jane asked. “When is the doctor calling my name? I'm so tired of sitting here waiting.”