Guidebook to Murder (24 page)

“Pish. You worry too much.” She'd walked away, the conversation over. The shadowed flyers told people the date, the time, and that they would love this author, but the rest remained as the sign said, “Cloaked in Mystery.”

Diamond Lille's was a block down on Main Street, and I was in front of it before I realized I'd arrived. I shook my head clear of the book launch worries and put on a receptionist smile before I entered the diner. Believe me, gossip travels fast in South Cove. If I'd walked in with a frown, people would be betting on hearing some bit of bad news within a day. I'd either be dying of cancer, had found Greg cheating with a stripper from Bakerstown, or my business was on the ropes. And even though none of those things was going to happen anytime soon, truth didn't stop tongues from wagging.

Amy sat in our favorite booth. She'd already ordered our drinks, and a large glass of iced tea waited for me while she sipped on a soda.

“What, no ice cream shake?” I slipped into the bench seat across from her. Today, the lunch special featured potato soup. Adding a dinner salad to go with the bowl of creamy goodness topped with shredded cheddar cheese and a generous dollop of sour cream, made the meal appear somewhat healthy and part of my ongoing diet.

Amy's face turned red. “Am I that predictable?”

“If it's Tuesday, it's strawberry shake day. If we meet on Friday, you order a fish sandwich and chocolate shake.”

Grinning, Amy nodded. “Why mess with routine? Actually, they were backed up in the kitchen. Somebody bailed on their shift. Carrie got me this while I waited.”

“Who didn't show?”

“Sadie's kid, Nick.” Amy's voice came from behind the menu she studied. Not like she hadn't read the same list of items three times a week for the last year. “I think I'll get the grilled pastrami on rye today.”

“No club on wheat with a side of chicken noodle soup?” I recited Amy's usual Tuesday lunch order.

She swatted at me with the menu. “Hank and I found the best New York–style deli when we were in the city last weekend. I've been craving pastrami since Sunday.”

Carrie showed up to take our orders. “I'm sure I could let the kitchen know you're both here. But let's go through the motions. What can I get for you?” She regarded me first.

“I'm having a house salad, blue cheese dressing on the side, and a bowl of loaded potato soup. But Amy's going to surprise you.”

“God, you'd think I shaved my head and become a Buddhist.” Amy kicked me under the table. “I'll have the grilled pastrami on rye with a side salad. And a strawberry milk shake.”

“Crap, I forgot about the shake. No problem. But no club?” Carrie reached out to touch Amy's forehead to see if she felt hot.

“Did I say I wanted a club? Jeez, people change their minds.” Amy pulled her head back out of Carrie's reach.

Carrie yanked the menus off the table. “Don't get huffy. I have enough to do with Nick out.”

“Did Nick call in sick?” After the talk I'd had with Sadie, I didn't want to hear the answer, but like looking at a car wreck on the side of the road, I couldn't stop from asking.

“Nope. The kid didn't show. Lille's hopping mad. She got called in on her day off to wash dishes. He's going to get an earful tomorrow.” Carrie turned and headed back to the kitchen, picking up plates and taking refill drink orders on the way.

“Looks like it's going to be a leisurely lunch hour.” Amy leaned back. “So, you probably want to know about Hank and the weekend.”

“Actually, I wanted to know if anyone at The Castle complained to the council about teenagers.”

I knew Amy wanted to talk about Hank. The four of us drove to the city for dinner as a double date two weeks ago. Hank dominated the conversation from the time we got in the car to the time Greg dropped the couple off at Amy's apartment. Hank was a disaster. I avoided the subject at all costs, but one day, the Hank discussion would happen. Then Amy would be crushed I didn't see his warm and loving side. But that conversation wasn't happening today.

“The Castle?” Amy tapped her fingers on the table, thinking. “Actually, Craig had an appointment with the mayor last week. I figured he was arguing for more advertising funding from the city. You know he thinks the only reason anyone comes to South Cove is to visit The Castle.”

I knew. All the business owners knew Craig Morgan's opinion of them. In fact, Craig wasn't shy about calling us bloodsucking parasites to our faces. Sure, visitors to The Castle brought in shoppers. But sometimes, the traffic happened to flow from the town to The Castle. God knows I'd sent my share of tourists to his door. And still he wanted the entire allotment of the chamber's marketing money? He even refused to come to the Business Basics meetings because he was busy, running a real company. Like I wasn't?

Well, I guess with Aunt Jackie and Toby working the floor, I wasn't quite as busy as I'd been. But the shop was hopping. I'd filled my empty time finishing renovating the house I'd inherited from Miss Emily. Not to mention hours working with the historical commission on certifying the stone wall in the back of the property as the “real” South Cove mission site. If the certification ever came through, South Cove would have a second historic site to promote. Craig wasn't happy about sharing the marketing money now. His reaction to sharing the budget with the mission site wouldn't be pretty.

“You don't think he's working the historical commission against certifying the site, do you?” Fear gripped my stomach. If the commission even smelled a whiff of community discordance around the project, they'd back off the process.

“I wouldn't put it past him. Ever since you shut down Eric's development plans, the mayor hasn't been too happy with you.” Amy scanned the packed diner. Most tables were still without food.

“I didn't shut down Eric Ammond's development. His lying, stealing, murdering girlfriend handled that on her own!” I couldn't believe Amy was blaming me for the development shutting down. If I hadn't found her, she'd still be surfing on a reclusive island off the coast of Mexico. Okay, well, she could blame me a little. Surfing would be more calming than trying to manage all the jobs she had going here in town. But still, you'd think she'd be a little grateful.

“Everyone knows the crazy ex-schoolteacher bombed the project. Except, His Honor The Mayor. Marvin still can't say your name without spitting.” Amy nodded to Carrie on her way over with a tray. “Maybe we're getting lucky.”

We were. Carrie dropped off food for us and the next table over. She stopped at the booth for a quick second. “Nick finally showed. He claimed his girlfriend needed a ride into the city, and he thought they'd be back long before his shift started.” Carrie leaned down and whispered, “You can bet what she wanted. She's going to ruin his reputation. Mark my words.”

Amy watched Carrie walk away, then brightened as if she remembered something. “Oh, Esmeralda says to tell you hello. She wants you to come in for a reading.” Amy laughed. “She said she threw your cards or whatever mumbo jumbo.”

Esmeralda was South Cove's fortune-teller and police dispatcher. If my house won the prize for being the oldest building in town, Esmeralda's came in a quick second. The mayor loved her. As long as she kept foreseeing a great future for the man, he left her housing code issues alone. She'd done a quick read on me once in the mayor's lobby. Now, the fortune-teller and I were best friends, not. “What did the cards say this time?”

Amy grinned. She pointed her French fry at me and said in a lowered imitation of Esmeralda's voice so good, the words gave me goose bumps: “Death surrounds you again.”