“You know, Mojo, maybe we should consider a different process when it comes to the tarot.” When he ignored her, she sighed and put the salmon back in the fridge. “Maybe you’d like to actually deal a spread next time.”
This time he decided to answer her. As she closed the fridge, he gave her a quick little meow, and then trotted out of the room.
She smiled after him. “You’re welcome.”
17
Though it had seemed to take the sun forever to rise to its midpoint, noon was almost here. Maris had changed her outfit three times but finally settled on the cream blouse with the ruffled open collar, a navy blue cardigan over that, and a matching loose floral skirt. She almost never wore pants, so that choice had been easy. Not only did the dark background of the skirt match the cardigan, it had a nice slimming effect.
She gave her hair a final brush. In all the investigating into Audrey’s death, Maris had forgotten about the blown fuse. Only when she’d returned to her room after the evening wine and cheese had she remembered. A quick phone call to Bear had assured her that he’d take a look at it later today.
But for now, she’d have to rough it without electricity. Cookie had been kind enough to lend her a hair dryer and the use of her bathroom. Meanwhile Maris’s phone was charging in the kitchen. She looked at herself in the dressing table mirror and adjusted the pearl necklace.
As she checked her watch, the doorbell rang. She smiled as she got up. He was right on time. She grabbed her purse and hurried to the front, smiling more when she saw him through the door’s window. It was the first time she’d seen him in casual attire instead of the sheriff’s uniform.
“Mac,” she said, as she opened the door. “What a nice outfit.”
He wore black jeans and a light gray turtleneck that perfectly matched his eyes.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said, looking down at himself. “I don’t have much opportunity to dress down, so to speak.” He moved his gaze to her skirt, her blouse, and then her face. “You, however, are looking your same wonderful self. No need to change a thing.” He thought for a moment. “‘Her look was like the morning's eye, her air like nature's vernal smile.’”
She had to grin at the compliment, via Burns, of course. “Let me just get my phone.”
As he stepped inside, she went to the kitchen, unplugged the phone, and dropped it in her purse. Back at the entry, she slung it over her shoulder. “Ready when you are.”
“Let’s go,” he said, holding the door for her.
Not only had she never seen him out of uniform, but she’d never seen his car—or rather truck. Though she knew little about makes and models of vehicles, it had the look of something more recent. It was big but sleek, and its simple black color seemed to match his attire. He opened the passenger door for her and indicated a dark metal rail that ran just below it.
“Use the running board,” he said indicating it, and held out his hand to her. “There’s also a handhold there.” He pointed to a handle just above the window.
Maris gladly took his hand, and put her foot on the running board. It was deceptively high. She bounced a little to give herself just a bit of momentum, but it was too much. Before she could duck through the door, she bumped her head on the roof.
“Oh no,” Mac said. As she plopped onto the passenger seat at an angle, he put a steadying hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”
She pushed down on the seat to right herself, only to find she was pushing on her skirt. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice straining as she tried to get up, even as she pinned the skirt to the seat.
“The handle,” Mac said gently. He patted it, now next to her head.
“Oh, right,” she said quickly reaching for it—and giving him an elbow in the face. “Mac,” she exclaimed, as he backed up. Though he was smiling, he touched a finger under his nose. “Are you all right?”
He examined his finger, which had no blood, and laughed a little. “Perfectly fine.”
Gripping the handle, she was finally able to sit up straight and get the skirt untangled underneath her. “Are you sure?” she said.
He nodded. “Just a bump.” He stepped back. “Watch the door.” Slowly, he closed it.
By the time he’d climbed into the driver’s seat, Maris had managed to regain a bit of composure. Though her face felt like it was on fire, she tugged on her safety belt, careful to keep her grip on it.
“Just thank goodness Cookie is inside,” she said, “or I’d have found a way to flail around and hit her too.”
Mac chuckled. “Note to self: Next time, bring a couple of helmets.”
Now Maris had to laugh too. For a few seconds, that’s all they did. She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed—and that he was already thinking of a next time.
“Okay,” he finally said, putting on his belt and turning on the engine. “We’ve got a reservation, so we’d better get going.”
“A reservation?” Maris asked.
He nodded. “At Plateau 7.”
18
At the beautiful restaurant by the bay, Maris managed to exit the truck without incident. She and Mac had arrived on time, and she’d even managed not to die of embarrassment from her clumsiness. Although in reality, Mac made that easy. He’d chatted a bit about the case: Julia Mendes’ fingerprints were on the flyers from under the pier but the spear had been clean; the analysis of the barnacle hadn’t yet been completed, and no other evidence had surfaced.
Maris related the events at the B&B: neither Joseph nor Julia had been at the Wine Down the previous evening or this morning’s buffet. She
