CHAPTER 45
I have to go,” I announced as I pushed back from the table and stood up.
Holman and Ridley looked surprised, the same question on both of their faces. “Uh, something has come up,” I said, vaguely. “Holman, you’ll be okay getting home, right?”
Holman had insisted on driving himself here on his bright yellow 1972 Honda Hobbit, which was a cross between a bicycle and a scooter. It looked like the love child of a giant praying mantis and a banana and was the most ridiculous contraption I’d ever seen. But he loved it and liked to take it out on special occasions.
“Yes,” he said, eyeing me with suspicion. “But what has come up?”
I didn’t want to tell him about the call from Lauren and all the questions it raised—basically connecting her brother John to Brandon Laytner and Bennett Nichols—because the investigation was essentially over. I didn’t want to look like a schmuck reopening the story if it was all smoke and no fire. I’d look into it myself first and then I could tell Holman or Carl if anything interesting turned up.
“It’s . . . uh . . . Jay,” I said, his name popping into my head at the last second. “He called and wants to talk.”
“Would you mind giving me a ride home?” Ridley stood up too. “I’m so tired and I don’t want to make David leave now. He’s having so much fun.”
Damn. There was no way I could get out of that without looking like a huge bitch (No, I won’t take you home, super pregnant lady), and there was no way Holman could fit her on his Hobbit. I reluctantly agreed, and she went in search of David to say goodbye. I told Holman I had to run to the ladies room and ducked into the house, where I tried to call Lauren back, but there was no answer. I then scrolled through my phone and found John Krisanski’s number from last week and called him. He didn’t pick up either, so I left him another message saying I had a few questions about his connection to Invigor8, Bennett Nichols, and Arthur Davenport. That ought to get his attention. Maybe now he’d actually call me back.
Holman and I found Thad and Tabitha on the dance floor and I interrupted their Electric Slide for a quick minute. I pulled her into a tight hug, being careful not to mess up her perfect hair. “Congratulations, Mrs. Davenport.”
She wrenched away like I’d slapped her. “Oh, I am not Mrs. Davenport.” She wagged a finger at me. “I will be keeping my name, thankyouverymuch. I take a lot of pride in being a St. Simon girl. Plus, it’s my professional name and I wouldn’t want to lose any of the clout I’ve built up under this name.”
I was pretty sure Tabitha’s professional name according to Tuttle library patrons was “Excuse Me, Miss,” but I didn’t say anything. This was her big day after all, and my gift to her (in addition to the monogrammed hand towels) was to let it slide.
“Sorry,” I said, winking at Thad. “Thanks for everything, guys. It was a perfect evening.”
“Thank you for everything,” Thad said, and I could tell he meant it. He might not have been the most interesting man in the world, or as charming as his brother, and he might have been at least thirty-seven percent Sasquatch, but Thad was a good guy—and the perfect opposing force for Tabitha. It was nice to see them heading off into their happily ever after.
Ridley was at the front waiting for Holman and me. We all walked out together, holding our favor boxes containing two bear claws from Tuttle Donuts, a beloved local institution, and two small bottles of milk.
“The Hobbit doesn’t have storage, will you take mine?” Holman asked, a slight edge coming through in his voice. I recognized this edge as food stress. Holman loved doughnuts like Winnie the Pooh loves honey. “Don’t eat them though, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“Because it would be incredibly disappointing if I were to come over to your house in the morning to retrieve them only to find them gone.”
“I won’t eat your bear claws, I promise.”
Moments later, after a few more assurances that I wouldn’t snarf his doughnuts, he sputtered and tutted his way out of the long brick driveway on his preposterous vehicle.
Ridley and I got into my car and headed toward Ryan’s parents’ house. As we turned left out of the driveway, I could feel her eyes on me.
“What?”
“So Jay called, huh?”
I had told Ridley the whole story about Jay breaking up with me in a moment of weakness at the wedding reception. She’d asked why I brought Holman and it just sort of spilled out. Not that she and I were becoming friends or anything.
“Um, yeah. He says he wants to talk.”
“You lie.”
“I’m sorry—what?”
“You’re lying.”
I sat there stung speechless for a moment—how dare she accuse me of lying! I mean, I was, but still.
“Riley,” she said calmly, “one of my gifts is I can always tell when people are lying. I’ve had this ability since I was a girl. It is how I know Ryan still loves you, despite his denials, and how I know this still pleases you. So this lie about Jay calling you was very easy for me to spot.”
“What’re you”—I started to argue, but stopped myself. The truth was I was a terrible liar and it didn’t take someone with a “gift” to sense it.
“Fine.
