Except for the waitresses?
Too late I remembered that the twins worked here, and, sure enough, there was June, deftly distributing plates to a table of six at the far side of the room. With a little luck—
“Did you wish a few more minutes to look over the menu?” inquired a familiar voice from behind me, and I looked up to meet May’s startled eyes. “Deborah?”
“Hey, May,” I said. “You know Mr. Burke, don’t you? Lucius, this is my cousin May Pittman. Her parents own the condo I’m using this week.”
Before they could do more than murmur polite acknowledgments, I said, “Lucius says you have a grilled trout special? That sounds good to me.”
Barely hiding her disapproval, May took our orders and flounced away.
“She didn’t even ask what kind of dressing I want on my salad,” I said.
He smiled. “Does she think you’re cheating on your deputy?”
“Probably.” I sipped my Bloody Mary. It was perfectly seasoned. “You said you had questions about last night?”
“One of Sheriff Horton’s detectives may ask you about this tomorrow. We were wondering about your relationship with Norman Osborne?”
“Relationship?” I was puzzled. “There was no relationship between us. What gave you that idea?”
“Osborne carried a little notepad in his jacket pocket. Your name was there on a list with a question mark beside it.”
“Really? What sort of list?”
“His home phone number. His wife’s cell phone number. A note about the date Ledwig died, followed by several miscellaneous names. All of them were there last night. Some of them were recent customers of his. We were wondering if you were a customer, too?”
I shook my head.
“Not planning to buy a second home up here in the High Country?”
“Sorry. But now that you mention it …” I described to him how Norman Osborne had scribbled something on a notepad as Sunny led him away to the buffet tables. “Maybe that’s when he wrote my name down, but I can’t imagine why.”
“We’ll ask Sunny tomorrow,” he said.
“She should know,” I agreed, then, changing the subject, I asked, “Will Osborne’s death make you revisit your decision about Danny Freeman?”
“Sure knocks it into a cocked hat,” he said. “His attorney’s already been in my office asking for a dismissal.”
May returned with our salads, and she had taken it upon herself to drench mine in a heavy blue cheese dressing.
“I’m so sorry,” I said sweetly, handing it back to her. “You seem to have brought me someone else’s. I wanted olive oil on the side.”
“I’ll switch with you,” Lucius said. “I like blue cheese.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
He passed me his virgin salad and the two little cruets that had accompanied it.
While we ate, we compared notes on mutual acquaintances, the type of crimes he prosecuted in an area whose population fluctuated with the seasons, and what the political climate was like out here—conservative in the small towns and hollows, liberal around the college down in Howards Ford.
Our trout arrived hot and crispy from the grill as our conversation wound back to the deaths of Ledwig and Osborne and whether there was indeed a connection.
“Captain Underwood seems to think there is,” I said.
“Sound man,” said Burke. “I’m hoping he’ll run for sheriff when Horton retires. Make my life a little easier. His cases are always solid.”
“Speaking of which, did Fletcher say anything to you about interviewing your local UPS or FedEx delivery people?”
He shook his head. “In relation to what?”
I described what I had noticed in the photographs. Like Underwood, the mailers had skipped his attention, too, which was understandable since he hadn’t gone out to the Ledwig home that day either. He agreed, though, that it might help pinpoint the time a little more precisely. “Too bad Fletcher and Horton missed them.”
“It was a big deck,” I said, “and they were naturally concentrating on the other side.”
“All the same,” he said.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
We both passed on dessert but lingered over coffee, which seemed to annoy May even more, although she was careful to hide her annoyance from Burke. Every time I glanced past his head toward the service area, she and June had their heads together and were glaring at me. Their disapproval amused me. Here were a pair who’d lied to their parents, spent their tuition money on opening a café, and had suborned friends into supporting that lie. Now they were indignant because I was having a friendly dinner with a colleague?
Please!
Burke left May a generous tip and we walked out to our cars together. The moon cast lacy shadows through trees that were fast losing their leaves.
“It was a nice dinner,” I said. “Thank you for asking me.”
“Thank you for coming,” he said, a quizzical look on his face.
I wasn’t surprised when he drew me to him—the moonlight practically demanded it—and I didn’t resist as our lips met.
It was a perfectly fine kiss, but neither of us was breathing heavily when it was over.
“Sorry,” he said with a rueful smile, “but I wanted to know.”
“That’s okay,” I told him. “I did, too.”
CHAPTER 23
I was asleep before the twins returned to the condo, nevertheless, they were up before me next morning. I think they deliberately dragged themselves out of bed early so they could rag on me the moment I stuck my head in the kitchen.
“You kissed him!” June said. “I saw you.”
I shrugged. “And?”
May grabbed my left hand. “Doesn’t this ring mean a thing to you?”
I reclaimed my hand and poured a mug of coffee. The diamond flashed in the sunlight streaming through the east window and I looked at it thoughtfully. “I think it’s real pretty, don’t you?”
“Deborah!”
“Be serious,” said June. “How would you like it if you caught Dwight kissing someone else?”
“Dwight didn’t catch me,” I pointed out. “You were the ones spying. If you saw us kiss, then you also saw us get in our own cars and drive off in different directions, so drop it, okay?”
Truth to tell, the whole incident had kept me tossing and turning during the night. What did it mean that I couldn’t respond to a man as smart and handsome as Lucius Burke? Lafayette County’s district attorney was as luscious as his nickname, virile and sexy, with green eyes to die for. I’ve always been a sucker for green eyes. My bigamous first marriage was to a green-eyed man, and the first guy to really break my heart? He’d had green eyes, too. So what was going on here?
(“Is it that promise you made your daddy?” asked the preacher. “How you were going to be true to Dwight?”)
(The pragmatist sniffed. “Get real. It’s not just green-eyed men you’ve played the fool with over the years.”)
For a moment a snatch of my favorite Waylon Jennings CD played in my head: “… been a whole lot of good women shed a tear for a brown-eyed handsome man …”
A knock on the door abruptly interrupted my uneasy thoughts.
When May opened it, the girl who entered looked vaguely familiar, but I didn’t peg her till June said, “Hey, Trish. You’re out early.”
“School,” she said, making a face as she looked at her watch. “I can only stay about ten minutes. Carla said you wanted to ask me about Dad and Mr. Norman?”
She registered who I was about the same time I made her.
“Aren’t you the judge from Danny’s hearing Monday?”