The Devil Wore Sneakers (4 page)

She raised her hand and ticked them off on her fingers. “Underage drinking, speeding, trespassing, fighting—”

“Okay, okay, I wasn’t a saint, but the police should have spent their time arresting real criminals.”

“Sullivan brought up the night you physically removed the drunk who wouldn’t take no for an answer from me.”

“Why did you agree to go with me if I’m such a danger?”

She groped for a response. No way would she admit she’d given in to the urge to be with him. Besides, it was a ride. “I’ve grown up and can handle myself.”

“For the record, nothing was wrong with the younger Lucy.” The engine roared to life as he twisted the key with more energy than needed.

What would he think if he knew the truth?
How else could she explain her relationship with Matt Hastings, her priest in Hawick Falls?

She relaxed her tense shoulders. Sullivan should arrest someone soon, and she’d leave town before Liam asked too many questions. She averted her face to the window and watched the tombstones and houses slip past to avoid further conversation.

In minutes, the Mad Moose’s brown clapboards and red metal roof came into view. He turned into the side driveway and parked in a space reserved for tenants. In the rear, a six-foot fence ran the perimeter between the restaurant and his neighbor’s home on the side street.

“You live here? What happened to your house?”

“I sold the place last year after I quit my job at the bank.”

More than two years ago, she’d heard he’d gotten married and divorced. Maybe that had played into his decision. Wait, he was out of work? “You don’t need to treat me to lunch.”

“Are you afraid I can’t pay?” He shoved down on the door handle. “I’ve got a tab. You’re safe.”

She scooted out of the passenger side and joined him on the sidewalk. The direct approach seemed the way to go. “How much money did my brother owe you?”

“No time for polite small talk? You have changed.” He scanned her features as though all her motives were visible.

An instant of panic flashed through her. No, he wasn’t a mind reader.
Ask about Ryan
. “Are you broke because of my brother?”

“Did Sullivan say we argued over money and I shot him?” His eyes flared with heat. “The man is certifiable.”

“You knew Gage reported your argument?”

“Gage told me he saw us. I encouraged him to tell the police. I’ve nothing to hide. Your brother was my friend, and as friends, we could disagree. Yeah, we were closer through those years we partied together, but we stayed on good terms.”

“What about the money?” Ryan survived on credit. “He often lied about his problems.”

“I’m not a hit man, Lucy. C’mon.” He led her to the front of the bar and grill. “What do you think of the Moose’s new sign?”

A plaque hung over the entrance. The name, painted in purple, stood out on the stained wood. “What happened to the dancing moose drinking beer? I kinda liked it.”

“The Moose had a makeover. Customers like the neon ‘Open’ sign in the window. It’s visible for miles at night.”

She caught herself inching forward to be near him.
Quick, squash that idea.
“Helps if you’ve forgotten your glasses or had too much to drink and can’t see the building,” she said in a teasing voice to hide her feelings. “You work here?”

“Owner. Thanks to a small business loan, I bought the place last summer. Too bad my parents moved to Arizona and can’t hang out in their son’s restaurant.”

“Your dad would love to sit inside and spin his fishing stories.” A warm glow filled her as she remembered his father telling his tales.

“Yeah, and he’d bore the customers into leaving, but the Moose is my success story.” Liam’s face glowed with pride for a second as he tilted his head back to scan the building. “How about it, Luce? Are you brave enough to enter?” He raised his brows.

“I bet I’ll love
your
place.” She pushed through the door. Buying a bar made sense for Liam. In high school, while most kids tinkered with their junk cars, he brewed beer in his basement to serve at his parties, until his parents found out. He’d moved on to his next plan, adding mead to his homemade wine.

Now she paused inside the building. The familiar barn-board walls sent a wave of nostalgia through her. A few changes were clear. The bar had been extended across the side of the room, where a few patrons sat on stools. On the opposite wall, a fire flickered in the fieldstone fireplace. Booths by the front window encouraged people to sit for a while, and a maple syrup bucket with dried flowers sat near the register.

“It’s…pretty, and nicer than the restaurants I worked during my college years.”

His eyes widened with horror. “Pretty? Nicer? No wonder the beer hasn’t been selling. I better rough it up and nail a few rifles over the fireplace.”

“Then you’re set to hold NRA meetings.”

“Hey, I don’t discriminate even though I gave up hunting.” He pointed over the bar. “Did you notice Morse the Moose stayed?”

The fake moose head hung above the rows of bottles. Between his antlers, the animal wore a green plastic hat with a Boston Bruins emblem. Beneath the wall decoration hung a sign: Free Beer Tomorrow.

“Quite manly. Morse is a hockey fan with free beer in his future.”

“Hope lives eternal.”

She glanced at the customers. A group of silver-haired women enjoyed lunch at a table by the fireplace, and two mothers with toddlers sat near the window. The Moose was a mixture of the town, from the less fortunate living at the Happy Mobile Homes Park to the well-off vacation homeowners.

“No one came from the funeral to eat.”

“Means more food for us.”

“How was the service, boss?” the beefy, bearded man behind the bar yelled to Liam. He wore a blue work shirt with the name of the bar in purple letters.

“Hank Jackman, this is Lucy Watson, Ryan’s sister.”

The bartender winced. “Sorry, Miss Watson, I didn’t recognize you.”

“I don’t think we’ve met.” She held out her palm.

He gave her hand a shake and released it. “Your brother was an okay guy. I liked him.”

His straightforward words put her at ease until she remembered she was here about a murder.
Keep your guard up. Sullivan hasn’t arrested anyone yet.

“Can I get you something from the bar, Miss Watson? Liam and I are working on a signature cocktail. I created one called Moose on the Loose. Want to try it?”

“Call me Lucy, and no thanks. I don’t drink.”

Liam stepped up beside her. “Hank, we’ll need another victim to sample our concoctions.”

“Liam, you should be the judge,” she said.

He shook his head. “Hank and I are creators. One of us will invent the next big drink. We’re the Barley version of the movie
Cocktail
. Hank’s our Tom Cruise. Though I confess, I have a drink I’m pretty sure is going to be a winner.”

“You guys are impressive. Hank, have you lived here long?”

“Hank is Bella’s brother, Luce.”

“Bella? Oh, Isabella.” Ryan’s last girlfriend. “Yes, we met at the funeral.”

“She told me she was hoping to meet you. I moved into an apartment on Goat Hill almost a year ago. Bella came to town a month after me. I shift my truck into neutral and roll down the road to work.”

“You must save money on gas. I left Barley a while ago.”

“That explains why I haven’t seen you around town. Don’t listen to Liam. My biggest goal is saving up and holding a steady job. Got a lot to prove to gain custody of my daughter.”

“I’m sorry, Hank.” He came across as a straightforward, hardworking guy.
 

“Don’t be. I’ll do it. Liam, what can I get you?”

“We’re set, Hank. Lucy and I will sit in the back.” He guided her to the rear, where they slipped into a corner booth.

“I hope you didn’t make tons of stuff expecting a crowd.”

“Nope. We’re eating off the menu. How long are you staying?”

“I’ll be hanging around until they arrest the person who shot Ryan. I took a month’s leave. If the case isn’t closed by then, I’ll reassess.” She tapped her fingertips on the table and groped for another topic. “I can’t believe your folks moved.”

“Dad woke up one morning, decided to retire, and picked the Grand Canyon State. They sold the house and put mom’s furniture from her antique shop in storage. I guess she hopes they’ll return.”

“You must miss having family nearby. Whenever I thought of Barley, I imagined Ryan and me.”

Liam laid a palm over hers. She went still at his touch.

“Ryan was my friend.” His voice roughened with emotion. “Whoever killed him will be punished. I want it as much as you do.” His hand tightened over hers.

Her mouth went dry at Liam’s intensity. Was he just sad and angry, or had their old attraction been added to the mix?

His voice softened. “I’ll order our meals.” He rose, and she grabbed his arm.

“Have you heard any gossip about who killed Ryan?” Please, let him have a clue.

“Sorry, Luce. All I know is that Target disappeared. The police searched the woods without luck.”

She glanced at the table of laughing older women. “His pet was his family. I hate to admit it, but he treated that animal better than he treated humans.” She looked at Liam. “Who are people blaming for his death?”

“No one knows. Most of Barley is in a panic about a killer hiding out until he’s ready to shoot again.”

“I don’t blame them. Who’d expect a murder in a town where the school’s science projects are front-page news?”

“I never expected a headline to be about Ryan’s murder. Excuse me. I’ll order the food.” He went through the swinging door near the end of the bar.

Uneasy, she glanced around the restaurant. People threw her covert looks. Maybe one of them was Ryan’s killer, watching her and thinking he or she would never be caught.

Chapter 5

The heat and the aromas in the kitchen welcomed Liam as he inhaled the fragrances.

Talking about Ryan’s death and being near Lucy after years of separation was more difficult than he’d imagined. The week after they’d broken up had been the worst. He’d tried to get back together with her, apologize, tell her he’d made a mistake, but she’d rejected his attempts. Then she’d left. What had surprised him the most after reading her recent email was his own eagerness to see her.

Dangerous. The easy way out was to avoid her, but he’d wanted to talk to her one more time. So he’d set out to find her at the funeral.

He’d spotted her right away when he’d driven to the cemetery. Her long, dark hair stood out from the two blondes at the ceremony. She’d been a welcome sight. Her curves in that little black dress had had him on the edge of running across the grass to her. When he’d gotten close and looked into her brown eyes, he’d recognized distrust and pain. Emotions he’d caused.

“Hey, boss, how was the funeral?”

Liam faced his cook, Sadie, who stood on the other side of the heated pickup shelf. Her apron covered her long, jean-clad legs and hung to below her knees. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she topped off her clothes with a Boston Red Sox cap. She’d scared a few Yankee fans while waving a kitchen knife, but few cooks could compare their cooking to hers.

“Small turnout, Sadie. Miss Watson is eating with me. Whip me up two plates of the chicken and dumpling special.”

“Will do.”

Chip, the towheaded dishwasher, popped up beside her. His round pink cheeks made him look much younger than eighteen. “My sister told me all the kids are talking about Mr. Watson’s murder at the school. They know who did it.”

“The kids at the high school can give us the name of the killer, but the police can’t?” Liam could almost believe him. “Okay, go ahead. Who shot him?”

“The man with the hook did it.”

Sadie shook her head. “Don’t repeat that to Miss Watson.”

Chip gave her a sheepish look.

“Do me a favor,” Liam said to the boy. “When you hear a joke that’s not fifty years old, let me know, and remember, don’t upset Lucy with gossip.”

“Then she won’t like the picture of the funeral posted online.”

Chip’s news grabbed Liam’s full attention. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone put up an image of Mr. Watson’s coffin on his teacher page. Lots of kids are sharing it.”

Great. He’d better warn Lucy. What was wrong with people? As Liam walked away, Sadie lectured the dishwasher on the seriousness of Ryan’s death.

In the dining room, the group of older women tossed glances at Lucy and whispered to each other. No doubt they were offering their opinions on who’d killed his friend. He hoped they had a better theory than the kids and Chief Sullivan.

“Everything okay, ladies?” he asked.

“Lovely,” they chirped, giving him smiles of reassurance.

“Super. I hope I can count on your kindness and respect for Miss Watson’s privacy. She buried her brother this morning.”

One woman gasped and the rest nodded their heads.