He sits back in his seat and runs those light gray peepers over my features. You know I can’t deny you a thing, Bizzy.
“Fine.” He pulls out his phone and begins tapping away. “I will see where this goes.” He gives a brief lopsided grin my way. “I’m curious about the ring myself.”
I do my best to peer over at his screen. “Wyatt and Thomas either had a matching set or Thomas swiped it.”
“Ooh!” Juni raises her hand as if we were at school. “If Thomas swiped it, I bet that makes him the killer.”
Jasper ticks his head to the side. “Or at some point in the evening, Wyatt took his ring off. He could have left it on the counter. He could have given it to Thomas for all we know. Or maybe Thomas stole the ring off the body when no one was looking but didn’t have a thing to do with the killing.” He points his phone my way. “Either way, my contact at the morgue will get back to me shortly about any personal effects that made it down with the body.”
“Did someone say morgue?” a female grunts from behind as Macy pops up in our midst. “It looks like I came into this conversation just in time.” She takes a seat and looks at Jasper. “Did my sister throw a mallet at your window, too? Is that why you’d rather send her to the morgue than down the aisle?” She shoots a sarcastic smile my way.
Jasper’s eyes widen with a look of amusement as he turns to me. “What’s the best way to answer this?”
“By ignoring her,” I say. “Macy, no one is sending me to the morgue, and I’ll pay for your window to be repaired. In fact, as soon as I get back to the inn, I’ll call a repair man myself.”
She shrugs. “I already beat you to it. So what exotic locale are you off to next in hot pursuit of the ever-elusive homicidal maniac? And was that him you were talking to?” She hitches her thumb in the direction of Killer Books. Because if it was, that man is smokin’. Count me in on this comely caper.”
Georgie shakes her head. “No way, Macy. You can’t date a homicidal maniac. Take it from someone who knows. They’re not the good time you would think they would be.”
Juni doesn’t hesitate to smack her mama on the arm. “Don’t you listen to her, Macy May. There is nothing hotter than a felon on the run from the law. All that pent-up frustration, those rampant paranoid delusions, the inaudible voices.”
I glance to the sky. “Sounds like a dizzying aphrodisiac of psychiatric maladies. Macy, take note. I’d look elsewhere for your next psychotic ex-boyfriend if I were you.”
Macy takes a moment to glower at me. “Have it your way. But rumor has it, you’re headed to a tattoo parlor next, and if so, I call shotgun. I’ve been meaning to finish the tramp stamp on my back for years now.”
Juni nods. “I feel you, sister. Wanna see mine?”
Jasper’s phone pings. “Looks like we’ve got some jewelry in the mix.” His chest expands a moment as he settles his gaze on mine. “You up for a quick trip down to the Seaview morgue?”
I waggle my brows his way before turning to my sister. “Sorry, Macy. It looks like you’ll have to count me out of the tattoo parlor adventure.”
“That’s okay.” She shrugs with a look of indifference. “I hear there are plenty of hot men at the county morgue. I’ve got someone watching the shop, and I’m in the mood to tag along.”
“Newsflash, Macy”—I say, cinching my purse over my arm—“the men at the morgue are cold and unresponsive.”
Georgie snaps her fingers. “My last three dates in a nutshell.”
Sherlock whimpers and covers his eyes with his paws. Count me out, Bizzy.
Me, too, Gatsby barks. I’d rather remember Wyatt the way I knew him. Full of warmth and life.
Poor guy. I can’t blame him.
“Georgie, Juni?” I turn their way. “Would you ladies mind taking Sherlock and Gatsby back to the inn? I spoke to Thomas and he didn’t seem to think anyone would mind. It looks like I’ve got a hot date at the den of the dead.”
“You bet.” Georgie stands and is quickly tangled in two leashes.
Juni stands and tries to detangle her mother, and soon the two of them are flailing and twirling like twin peach hurricanes. Then, in a burst of energy, they’re down the road with both Sherlock and Gatsby in tow.
A suggestive smile curves on my lips as I look to the smoldering, very much taken, homicide detective beside me.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, hot stuff.”
“Not so fast.” Macy lifts a finger. “Unless you want to pay for that window, I’m calling shotgun.”
I shrug over at Jasper, and before long the three of us are on our way to Seaview, to the morgue, to see about a dead guy with some serious bling.
The three of us set foot into the gray cinderblock building with its sterile white walls and flooring. The strong scent of peppermint lingers in the air, and it makes me wonder if they’re trying to mask an odor.
Macy leans in. “At what point do we get the tattoos?”
“I’m not going to lie.” Jasper gives a wistful tick of the head. “They’ve got the tools here.”
“No tattoos this afternoon, Macy,” I say as Jasper nods to the secretary and leads us through doors marked staff only. “In fact, don’t talk to anyone—dead or alive. Don’t make me wish I had paid
