Rafe: Check out the vehicles of our suspects to see if anyone is driving a new truck. Maybe that was Luke driving ahead of Courtney that day on Brown’s Road, but maybe it wasn’t. Doesn’t hurt to look at the others.
Minnie: Three whole sentences inside a single text message. A new record! I’m so proud.
Rafe: 1 off—later
I laughed, sent him a thumbs-up emoji, and, with help from Google Maps, drove around looking at cars. By the time I got back to Chilson, the gas tank was low, so I stopped for gas. Since the air temperature was mild and the sky was clear, I set the gas to flowing and started inching away to stand in the sunshine.
“Thanks anyway,” said a semi-familiar male voice.
I turned and saw Mason Hiller walking out the gas station’s front door. I edged back into the shade as he crossed the asphalt parking lot and got into a slightly dirty and slightly battered SUV.
He started backing up his vehicle as I thought about possibilities. So far my Car Mission had yielded only negative results. Neither of the Vannetts’ cars had been noteworthy in any way, or particularly clean. Same with the vehicles parked next to the Prices’ cabin, same with the car in Violet’s driveway. But Mason’s cousin had said Mason was always talking about money. And Mason had acted oddly when I’d started talking about Nicole and Rex.
I released the gas lever and whirled around to put the nozzle back into the pump. Did I want a receipt? Not this time, thanks. Jumping in the car, I started the engine and sped after Mason.
Happily, he’d turned toward downtown, and it was easy to follow his vehicle. He parked in a public lot far enough from the retail district that the city hadn’t installed parking meters. I pulled into a space on the other side of the lot, waited until he’d walked away, then got out and hurried after him.
“This isn’t stalking,” I muttered, though I was pretty sure it was. I pushed that uncomfortable concept to the back of my mind, where I hoped it would fade away.
Mason was walking briskly, and I found myself almost trotting to keep up. Two blocks later, at the first store we came to—a new place that sold T-shirts—he went inside.
I couldn’t very well go in with him, so I stopped and pretended to be interested in an accountant’s window display. This was difficult, because the display was a sign with the name of the business, but fortunately Mason was back outside before I had time to look truly stupid.
Mason ducked into the next place, which sold sunglasses. He was back outside quickly, and went on to the shoe store.
By this time I’d decided that the key to an innocent lurk was to pull out your cell phone and tap away while surreptitiously keeping an eye on your subject. Mason had left the shoes and was entering a men’s clothing store when I heard my name.
“Minnie.”
I looked up at the forty-ish woman who’d called to me, and smiled. “Hi, Rianne. How’s business at Benton’s been this summer?”
“Amazing!” She grinned. “And part of it is due to your niece.”
“Um, that’s . . . great.”
“She’s such an asset, you wouldn’t believe it. No, of course you’d believe it; you’re her aunt, so you know how great she is.”
“Um . . . you bet.”
Rianne nodded. “You know, if all of my staff were as fun and cheerful and hardworking as Katie, I’d be able to take a full day off in the summer without thinking my grandparents would roll over in their graves.”
Fun? Cheerful? Hardworking? “So glad it’s working out,” I murmured.
“If she comes back next summer,” Rianne said, “I’ll give her as many hours as she wants. I’ll even pay her overtime. With her sales skills, it’s worth it.”
I managed to pick my jaw up off the ground without Rianne noticing anything was wrong.
She waved and headed off, and while I was standing there, trying to rearrange my concept of the universe, Mason walked out of the men’s store and into a fudge shop. It was time to figure out what he was doing, so I retraced my steps back to the T-shirt place. A twenty-something man with a scraggly beard and a backward ball cap greeted me. “Can I help you?”
“Hi,” I said. “I’m looking for a friend and he’s not answering his phone.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “I was wondering if you’ve seen him? Thin, long-ish hair, a little older than you. His name’s Mason.”
The guy nodded. “He was in here a few minutes ago, asking about . . .” He paused.
I smiled. “Asking about what? Please tell me he lost his phone again. Because that’s the only reason he should have for not answering text messages.”
Laughing, the guy said, “No, he was asking if we were hiring.”
* * *
Eddie and I were watching the sunset. His back half was on the chaise and his front half was on top of my legs. The humidity had gone up again, so I wasn’t exactly enjoying the heat his body was kicking out, but he was purring, so that made it okay.
“It was the same at the other businesses,” I told him. “Mason was looking for work.” But late July could be a bad time for that. There was little more than a month left in the official summer season, and business could start dropping in mid-August.
Eddie tipped his head back and yawned, giving me a fine view of the roof of his mouth.
“Not your most attractive feature,” I told him. “Though I still wonder what those ridges do.”
“Mrr.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” I scratched the side of his face and got the purrs going again. “And I’ve also figured out that Luke, that’s Luke Cagan, from the hardware store—”
“Mrr!”
I stopped with the scratching. “Sorry. Was I doing it wrong? Of course I was. Anyway, I stopped at the hardware store and Jared told me Luke bought a late-model truck and keeps it immaculate. But I also learned from Darren—you remember, the mechanic who loves the bookmobile almost as much as I do, but from a completely different point of view? Anyway, I stopped by Darren’s garage and it turns out that he takes care of the Jaquays’ vehicles, and they have a new pickup. Still, all things considered, it was probably Luke out there that day with Courtney. But I’m so horrible with car identification, I could have it all wrong.”
“Mrr!”
“I’m a sorry excuse for an amateur investigator, aren’t I? And I’m not a very good aunt. Plus I can’t think of the last time I saw Aunt Frances and Otto, and I haven’t been up to the boardinghouse in—”
Eddie thumped down to the deck, jumped up onto the railing, and up onto the houseboat’s roof.
“Mrr!”
I slid deeper into the chaise. “You got yourself up there, you can get yourself down. I’m not coming up after you.”
“MRR!!”
“Forget it.”
There we sat, me down below trying to enjoy the stunning sunset, him up above staring holes into the back of my skull. And we might have stayed that way forever except for an unexpected visitor.
“Nice night,” Ash said, stepping aboard. “What’s up with you, Mr. Ed, besides everything?”
“Funny.” But I smiled, because it kind of was. “Any chance you can convince him to get down from there?”
“Think about what you just said.” Ash dropped onto the other chaise. “Convince a cat? Or more to the point, convince Eddie?”
We turned and looked up at the cat in question.
Eddie looked down. “Mrr.”
“That settles that,” Ash said comfortably, turning back around.
“Once again, the cat gets what he wants.” I glared at Eddie. He glared back. “Tie,” I said, then whipped around before he could claim to win the staring contest. “So, a Friday night and you’re not working? That hasn’t happened in months, seems like.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And now I don’t know what to do with myself. Where’s Rafe?”