Her lips twitch. “I don’t know how far she got, but let’s just say Maddie didn’t seem all that bothered with it.”
“Why is that?”
She shrugs. “Last I checked, dead women tell no tales. Rumor has it, she had a thing for Parker Goldman—Sophia’s boyfriend. I thought we were about to see a power couple switcheroo. But I guess we’ll never know if anything came of it.”
Jackson and Shep manage to part the sea of women clawing at them as the two of them head this way.
Tilly gloms onto Jackson and Regina wraps her arms around Shep, both of which are dotted with rogue lipstick prints on and about their cheeks.
We thank Kiera for the good time and make a beeline for the elevator. The doors yawn open and we drift on in while Tilly and Regina rummage through their Goober haul.
Shep steps in front of me, his eyes pinned to mine, that no-nonsense expression of his stone cold and hard.
“You spoke with her,” he says it flat.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
The elevator gyrates and forces him to lean in for a second before the door whooshes open.
He holds my stare once again.
“You smell nice, Binx.”
He frowns as we get off the elevator, but I can’t hide my gloating smile.
Shep thinks I smell nice.
And ten bucks says he’s about to grill me for all I know.
I’d better stop by the café and load up on Nana Rose’s lasagna.
It’s time to test my grandmother’s theory about men and their lust-driven stomachs.
Something tells me she’ll be right.
Chapter 6
After all the neck sniffing that went down at Goober, we finally make our way back to Starry Falls. Jackson dropped Tilly, Regina, and me back at the café while he went upstairs to visit with Opal.
The café was still hopping, but with all hands on deck we handled it just fine. The highlight of my day—other than having Shep Wexler within sniffing distance—is the fact the replica of my Nana Rose’s lasagna turned out brilliant. Not Nana Rose brilliant, but pretty decent for a first-timer. Next time I’ll toss in more cheese and less garlic, but hey, you gotta start somewhere. Since it’s not on the menu just yet, I let the staff all have a slice and boxed the rest for Shep in the event he felt the need to interrogate me later. And I don’t need to be a psychic to know he will.
I head home to my cabin a little after six, shower and put on a pair of hot pink sweats with the word delicious spread over my hiney like a sequin rainbow. When your wardrobe is solely comprised of thrift store acquisitions, you have to work with what you got.
No sooner do I pop the lasagna in my oven and scent the house with all things delicious, a rather hostile knock erupts at my door.
“Ooh.” I scoop Pixie up and we make our way to the entry. “Who do you think that could be?” I trill as I look through the side window to see Shep standing there, sans his suit jacket. “Fancy meeting you here,” I say as I swing the door wide open.
He frowns for less than a millisecond before his eyes widen and he steps in blindly with his attention fully turned to the kitchen.
“What’s cooking?”
“Your dinner. And hello to you, too,” I flatline. “Rough day at the office, Honey Bunch?”
He shoots me a look before heading back my way. I’m guessing he wouldn’t be too thrilled to know that Tilly and I have been referring to him as Sexy Wexy and Stud Muffin behind his back. On second thought, it might inflate his ego. He’s already at Goodyear Blimp levels of self-worth. No use in tempting fate and having the cabin float away with him in it.
Shep’s white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, and I can see his gun strapped to his waist in a dark leather holster. The sight of a gun has never bothered me. Growing up in Hastings, my sister and I were taught to handle a weapon before we were allowed to date. Now that I think about it, one probably had a lot to do with the other.
He grunts my way. “My day would have been better had you not insisted on barreling your way into my investigation, Sweet Cheeks.”
“Sweet Cheeks?” A genuine growl works its way up my throat. “You do realize I loathe that nickname.”
“You prefer something a little more exciting? Sugarpuss perhaps?” he asks while taking Pixie from my arms.
“That’s disgusting.”
“What?” He holds back a smile while touching his nose to the adorable little feline’s in his arm. “We think it’s cute.”
“Say it again and I’ll hold back evidence.”
“I might be okay with that so long as you don’t hold back whatever you’ve got in that oven, Kitten.”
“That’s better.” I make a face his way. “Start up a fire and I’ll plate up some Italian goodness for you.”
He does as he’s told, and soon we’re both noshing on my heavenly lasagna while seated on the sofa, staring at the crackling flames and moaning into our food. The cabin is small but homey. It has a black and white checkered sofa that makes you feel as if you’re sitting on a cloud, and the entire cabin looks as if it’s made out of Lincoln Logs both inside and out.
“I guess you know what you’re doing in the kitchen,” he says, shoveling in another bite.
“Thanks.” I shrug over at him. “Do you know what you’re doing with Madeline Swanson’s murder investigation?”
His brows dart down, and judging by that hard expression he’s shooting my way, I’ve managed to stick a pin in his ego.
“I’m telling you,” I practically whisper the words. “I’m convinced Kiera Hillerman did it. Or in the least, she’s involved.”
“What did she say?” he asks, taking in another forkful.
“She said she thought Madeline was sleeping with her boyfriend. Anyway, she said Madeline died before
