Kody was happy to see that Rosy Bullard had gotten out of bed, gotten dressed and brushed her hair, even applied makeup.
Of course, the second she saw Kody, tears formed in her eyes and she hugged Kody fiercely.
Then she drew back, and began speaking quickly.
“I don’t believe this...we were...we were still newlyweds, really. Okay, well, it was over a year. Oh, he took me on the most romantic sail for our anniversary. He was such an amazing man. His voice, Kody...at least I still have his recordings. I’ll always be able to hear him. Oh, I can’t believe this! If they’d only give him to me. I have to go to the funeral home. I mean, I don’t know when I get his body, but I feel that I must be doing something. I must take care of all the arrangements. We’ll have a funeral at the church—he would have wanted that. He was a good man, a religious man. But I’m not sure whether he’d have rather been in the cemetery, or if I should have him cremated and scatter his ashes out on the water—he loved Key West and the cemetery, but he also loved the water so very much. I just don’t know what to do... Oh, Kody! It was the oddest thing. I felt that he was with me when I slept, that he was smoothing my hair back, telling me that it was going to be all right. Of course, that would be Cliff, too. So giving. Him dead, but assuring me that he was all right!”
Kody was at a loss. “I’m so sorry, Rosy. So sorry.”
“I know you loved him, too.”
“Very much.”
“And he was playing when he died. Playing your song—your dad’s song. You were singing. At least...he was doing what he loved, with someone he loved. That’s a bit of comfort to me. I just thought...well, I thought we had years to go.”
“Rosy, you were his happiness.”
“I hope so. I truly hope that, at the very least, I made his last year a very happy one.”
“I know so,” Kody said. “Is there...is there anything I can do for you?”
“It’s so soon...it just happened. I don’t know... I don’t know how I’ll ever go through his things. His clothes... There are charity foundations that can make good use of them. I just don’t... I’m lost, I’m afraid. I feel that I should be cleaning, or working, or doing something. Moving, being busy.”
“Being busy isn’t a bad thing, but I don’t know if you have to go through all Cliff’s belongings yet. That would probably be painful. Painting makes you happy. Maybe you want to draw, or perhaps even find a picture of the two of you and create a painting from that,” Kody suggested.
Rosy nodded thoughtfully.
“Coffee,” she said.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, let’s have coffee. And then maybe... Kody, this may sound strange, but would you mind going through the bedroom, folding up his clothing... I had a friend who lost her husband, and a year later, she hadn’t touched any of his things. I don’t want to go that route. I’m going to have to live without him—I have to become accustomed to that without, without...”
“Not to worry, Rosy. I will do anything you need.”
“Coffee first. Then...”
Rosy brewed coffee, talking all the while. About the way she and Cliff had met. The way that Cliff had serenaded her. How it had been, getting to know his friends, the community of the Keys, the way that Cliff had made everything so easy for her.
Finally, she seemed to be talked out.
“I think I will do a painting,” she said.
Rosy set up; Kody went on into the bedroom to start collecting and folding Cliff’s clothing.
And as she did so, she thought of the man who had been her father’s friend, and her friend, and she thought about the music, and how different her personal world would be without him.
“My friend, my dear, dear friend. I thought there would be so many more years. No, in truth, I never thought about losing you at all,” she said softly.
There were pictures on the dresser. She picked up one that was of her as a child with Cliff and her dad. She was between the two of them, holding a hand of each man. There were more pictures: Cliff playing at the bar hut. Cliff with a giant fish he’d caught in the Florida Straits. Cliff, just holding his guitar.
Cliff with Rosy. Smiling, holding her tightly. Loving her so much.
Kody went back to work.
“I’m going to help Rosy, however I can,” she vowed out loud.
She waited.
But if Cliff had somehow stayed on, he didn’t answer her. And he didn’t appear.
She prayed he was at peace.
* * *
A police artist had done a sketch of what the dead man from the ship might have looked like in life; it had gone out in local media.
By the time Brodie and Liam arrived back in Key West, they’d identified him.
His name was Arnold Ferrer. He had come down from Georgia after the discovery of the shipwreck.
His great-great-great-great grandfather had been on the ship; he had survived the sinking. He hadn’t been a slave, chained in the bowels of the ship. Ferrer’s antecedent had been a slave trader from Portugal. Arnold Ferrer had documents that he’d wanted to turn over to Sea Life and/or the new museum.
A woman named Beverly Atkins was waiting for them at the Key West police station when they arrived; she had information.
Beverly owned the Sea Horse bed-and-breakfast on Simonton Street.
Brodie recognized her.
She had been at the bar the other night.
She was sitting in Liam’s office with Detective Al Garcia, a man Brodie had met the day before, when the police had arrived in force after he’d discovered the body.
Al was listening as Beverly, a silver-haired little slip of a woman, talked a mile a minute. The man—late twenties with a pleasant manner and sympathetic dark eyes—was looking a bit frazzled.
He seemed glad when he saw that Liam had returned.
“Detective Beckett is head of this investigation,” Al said, rising as Liam and Brodie walked into the office. “Perhaps, you can tell him...”
“Oh, Liam!” Apparently, Beverly Atkins knew Liam well. She stood and threw her arms around him; Liam was a big man. The tiny woman looked like a little elf creature clinging to him.
“Bev, Bev, it’s okay,” Liam said gently.
“No, no, it’s not okay. What a wonderful man he was. I was welcoming people in the parlor when he arrived, and we chatted quite a bit. He told me exactly what he was doing down here. He told me that he felt it was so important in this country that we remember the good and the bad. He’s always been ashamed that he had an ancestor who was involved not just in owning slaves—but in procuring slaves. I told him that was just silly—his ancestor lived well over a hundred years ago. But, Liam, it meant so much to him. He was with me for two nights. All he talked about was that he had an appointment with a man from Sea Life, and that he was incredibly anxious to get by our new museum and speak with Kody McCoy. Liam, how could this have happened to him?”
“Bev, I don’t know,” Liam said, soothing her. “But I will find out.”
Al Garcia cleared his throat, nodded to Brodie in acknowledgment, and then said, “Excuse me!” and made an escape.
Bev suddenly noted that Brodie was in the room. “Oh. Hello,” she said, swallowing, standing on her own and flushing.
“How do you do,” Brodie said.
“This is Brodie McFadden,” Liam said in introduction. “Brodie, Miss Beverly Atkins.”
“Oh, Mr. McFadden, you’ve come at a bad time for us, a very bad time.”
“Brodie found Mr. Ferrer, Bev.”
“Oh! Well, thank you. Is thank you the right thing to say? Can I be grateful that you did find the poor man’s body rather than leaving it to the nasty ravages of the sea?”
“I’m sure he would have been found by someone from Sea Life,” Brodie said. “But I happened to be exploring that deck and... I’m glad he’s been found, as well. As quickly as possible. And, of course, we’ll hope to solve this quickly, as well. Ease whatever pain can be eased for the family.”
Bev Atkins sniffed. “He was the last of his family. Except for his little daughter, five years old, who is being raised by a very good friend. Well, actually, the child’s mother. All I know is her first name—Adelaide. Mr. Ferrer was a different persuasion, sexually, and he told me that he’d had a fling trying to prove that he wasn’t... Oh, he was such a lovely man! I can’t believe the way we came to chat when he was with me such a brief period of time. People do terrible things to other people.”
“We will do our best for him, Bev. And you’ve helped so much. We didn’t know who he was,” Liam said.
“We had nothing on him at all, and now, thanks to you, we have someplace to start,” Brodie added, and then flushed slightly. He was still just a guest here. No, he decided. Liam was letting him in.
He had found the body.
This was his case, too.
“You might talk to the people at Sea Life,” Bev said. “Oh, and Kody! He must have had an appointment with Kody. He wanted her to have the documents and everything for the museum. I mean, it’s her museum, but she’s done all the right legal maneuvering to make sure that what she has there that’s precious and historical is not lost, but turned over to other institutions in case she has trouble. Arnold had talked to her—had to have been her, I’m pretty sure. Her little assistant doesn’t do the talking to folks about what does and doesn’t go in the museum. Oh, dear. Kody worked so hard for that museum. She’s such a great girl...and Cliff Bullard last night, too. Poor thing. It’s all just horrible!”
Kody McCoy again. But of course, Key West could be a very small place.
“Do you know of anyone we can contact?” Liam asked Bev.
“No,” Bev said sadly. She brightened. “But I do have his home address.”
“Thank you, Bev. Thank you so much,” Liam said.
“I guess... I guess that’s it,” Bev said. She turned toward the door that led from Liam’s office. She paused and looked back at Brodie. “Welcome to the Keys!” she said dryly. Then she shook her head. “I’m so sorry that you came here for all this!”
“I’ve been here before,” he assured her. “I love Key West.”
“But all this...”
“All this will be solved,” he told her.
She glanced at Liam.
“Brodie is a private investigator,” Liam explained.
Bev was still just staring at Brodie. She took his hands in hers. “Yes, well, I guess that’s it. But there’s something more. Something special about you, young man.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I’m psychic,” Bev assured him seriously. “I know,” she added in a whisper.
“Again, thank you,” Brodie said.
When she left, Liam shook his head. “Well, we know who the victim was—I wish to hell I knew why someone would want to kill him. The ship? Something to do with the ship?”
“He wanted things in the open—he wanted his documents given to the museum. He wanted to feel better about himself—and his family.”
“Maybe someone didn’t want those documents out in the open? But it’s so far in the past.”
“Then again, maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the ship.”
“What else then?” Liam asked, shaking his head.
“Damned if I know—just playing the devil’s advocate,” Brodie told him.
“Well, nowhere else to start. Want to come with me?”
“Where to?”
“Time to check out Sea Life.”
And Brodie hoped, maybe, in a bit, time to talk to Kody McCoy again.
Because they needed to find out if she knew anything.
And because he wanted to see her again.
* * *
Kody had gone through Cliff’s clothing, folding it all in little piles for Rosy. While it seemed that Rosy was trying to move forward—at a frantic pace that might just get her through the loss—Kody wanted everything as neat and easy to see as possible, just in case there was something Rosy wanted to keep. Kody couldn’t know if there was something that had more significance than the rest.
She left at last, realizing that the hours had gone by very quickly. The afternoon was waning. She’d been there since early morning, and she’d barely seen Rosy.
She left the bedroom and hurried out to the porch sunroom in back.
Rosy had been industriously painting, just as Kody had suggested.
“What do you think?” she asked happily.
“I think it’s great,” Kody said, studying the painting. Rosy had found a great snapshot of Cliff to work from. He was standing in front of the brick walls of Fort Zachary Taylor in dashing pirate attire, a sign reading “Pirate Days!” behind him.
Cliff had loved playing pirate.
There was even a stuffed parrot on his shoulder.
Rosy had turned the snapshot into a colorful and fun painting. Cliff’s enthusiasm for life seemed to be fully visible in his eyes. His stance was cocky—Cliff could be cocky. Shy, too. He had been fond of fun and teasing others, but never in a way that was hurtful.
“Seriously—it’s really great,” Kody repeated.
She almost jumped at the sound of a knock at the door. Rosy frowned and looked at Kody, a hint of panic in her eyes.
“I know I should have people in. We should all sit around. We should talk about Cliff. But I’m not ready. I don’t want neighbors bringing casseroles. I... I need to be alone right now. Oh, not you, Kody—being with you is fine. Or if one of our close friends came by...”
“I’ll get it,” Kody assured her.
She went to the door. Peeking out the peephole, she saw that Emory Clayton had come; he was, as usual, dressed in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, a sailor’s cap pulled low over his forehead. Emory was a shoo-in for the Hemingway contest each year. He refused to enter, saying that he might be a “freshwater Conch,” but, in his mind, he was all Conch, and the contest was to bring down more and more tourists.
He was rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully, which meant he was uneasy. Sometimes, it was difficult and uncomfortable to be a friend—and to worry about saying the right things.
She quickly opened the door and gave him an encouraging smile. “Come on in. I know that Rosy will be anxious to see you.”
“Kody, I’m so glad you’re here. Is it all right if I come in?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am.”
He walked in just as Rosy came out to the entry. “Emory,” she said softly. “Thank you so much for coming over.”
“Oh, Rosy, I’m so sorry!”
“I am, too.”
They stood apart for an awkward moment, then Emory took a step, and Rosy moved over to him, and they hugged. For a moment he was stiff, and then he was natural. “Rosy, we all loved him. But of course, none of us was...you.”
“And he loved you. He was blessed with such good friends,” Rosy said.
“I just thought that I’d come by...sit with you for a while,” Emory said.
“That’s lovely. Kody just went through Cliff’s clothing... I’m painting.”
“Will it make you nervous if I sit and watch?” Emory asked.
“It would be lovely,” Rosy said.
It was a cue to be able to leave if Kody had ever heard one, knowing Rosy wouldn’t be on her own.
“Okay, then... I’ll go on and get some things done,” Kody said. “Rosy, you call me if you need anything,” she added.
“I’ll be here,” Emory said, as if assuring her that she had done her time; it was his part now as a friend to be there.
Kody gave Emory a quick kiss on the cheek and then hugged Rosy back. “He loved you so—like the daughter he never had,” Rosy told her.
Kody slipped outside. The sudden feeling of relief made her ashamed, but sad to say, it was true—it was hard to handle someone else’s grief.
* * *
“Where was I?” Ewan Keegan asked, appearing perplexed.
They were at the Sea Life offices on Whitehead. Ewan was at his desk; he’d greeted Brodie and Liam with a bit of anxiety and expectation, but now he was realizing that he was actually being queried as a possible suspect.
“The night before last was when our victim was killed, according to the best time schedule our ME can give us,” Liam said.
Ewan stared at Brodie—as if he, as a friend, should have been able to explain that, beyond a doubt, he hadn’t murdered anyone.
“Ewan, forgive us,” Brodie said. “It’s standard procedure. The man’s name, we know now, was Arnold Ferrer. He was here with documents pertaining to the ship. You’re one of the main contacts for Sea Life. These questions have to be asked. They’ll eliminate you as a suspect and help lead to the right direction.”
Brodie hoped that he had managed to be truthful—and placating.
“Night before last... I called you at nine,” he told Brodie. “You had just driven down from Miami, and we were talking about the dive.”
“What about before and after nine?” Liam asked.
“Before?” Ewan blinked, thinking about the question. “I ate in the hotel restaurant off Sunset Pier—and the waitress was Lizzy Smith. I know she’ll remember that I was there. Oh, I was there when I called Brodie and found out that he had arrived, and then...” He was thoughtful, and then he perked up again. “I was out late. There was a great band at the Irish place on Duval. I was there until about midnight. And then—then I went home. And I live alone. In a house. I don’t know how to prove anything beyond that.”
“That’s all,” Liam said. “What about your coworkers?”
“We have six full-time divers—that includes me, head of the dive team. We also have four men on board working with the equipment, and I know that they can attest for one another, but I’ll give you a list of the names of everyone involved. After we finish for the day—around seven most of the time—the divers usually chill out and head to the island. Only the four techs stay on board overnight. Thing is, the guys on the ship—unless they all conspired to murder this man, and God could only know why they would—are pretty much dumbfounded. Well, you know, Liam, you were there when we assisted the police divers bringing up the body. It was sad and interesting, what with following the PADI rules for rate of ascension. But, on top of one dead body, we didn’t want anyone having decompression sickness. If you recall, we talked about it with the staff on ship after we brought the body up.”
“I know,” Liam said.
“Thing is,” Brodie added quietly, “the body got there somehow. When you’re diving with your guys, most of the time, the techs can see you, right?”
“One of us travels with a camera—and I always have a communication mask. We don’t all have them. One day we will. Sea Life is nonprofit. We work on low budgets.”
“I’m sure we’ll discover that Sea Life wasn’t responsible,” Liam said. “We have to talk to everyone. You understand that.”
“Yeah,” Ewan said. He didn’t sound sure. “What kind of documents did he have? Why would anyone kill him over that? He was trying to make sure that people saw how horrible that history was—just how cruelly people were treated. He wanted to expose his ancestor... It’s not as though he was trying to hide anything.”
“We’ll study the documents soon. We just found out his identity and where he was staying,” Brodie said.
“We have people in there now, acquiring his things. Maybe the documents will give us a clue,” Liam said.
“And maybe we’ll find out that he was killed for a reason that had nothing to do with the ship,” Brodie said.
Ewan just shook his head. “Tragic. Whatever, however, just tragic. And then...”
“And then?” Liam asked.
“Well, Cliff dropping dead the same damned night.”
“Cliff is a major loss to all of us. But this man, Arnold Ferrer...he was murdered. In cold blood. We have to find the truth.”
Liam was a good cop, Brodie knew. A really good, dedicated cop.
But he couldn’t help wondering himself if it wasn’t too much of a coincidence.
Both men dead on the same day.
Then again, how could they be related?
Ewan passed a paper across the table. “Four techs, six divers. These are their names—along with the places they’re staying. Only Josh Gable and I are at our own residences. The others opted for the Sand Castle—it’s just off Front Street. Easy for them to get to the ship and back, and close enough to restaurants, groceries, all that. You should be able to reach them all easily. No one was at the site today except for the police divers.”
“Yes, I know. And I’ll be going down myself tomorrow,” Liam said.
“Not to be a jerk when a man died, but...when are we able to get back down?” Ewan asked.
“Should be the day after,” Liam said. “Don’t worry—we will figure it all out.”
“Wish to hell I believed it would ever make sense,” Ewan said.
“It may never make sense,” Brodie told him. “Murder—it seldom makes sense. But I believe that Liam and his team will get to the truth—however senseless it might be.”
* * *
It was hard for Kody to imagine that just a day ago she and her friends had been congratulating themselves on a first-time festival that had gone so incredibly well. Everyone from musicians to visual artists, writers to performers, had been so willing and ready to collaborate with one another.
She’d been busy keeping a hundred plus people happy—but she’d been so happy and amazed herself.
She was proud of her museum.
It has once been an old Victorian house, complete with a porch and columns, whitewashed and inviting—even if it was almost flush with the building next to it.
The door was open—as it should have been, it wasn’t six o’clock yet—and she went in. Colleen was seated at the desk, working on an inventory sheet. She looked up, ready to greet the public—as in a paying customer—and then her smile turned a little sad as she saw Kody.
“Hey. I did tell you not to worry,” she said.
“I wasn’t worried. Emory is staying with Rosy now. I was there all day and...I guess I just wanted to come by. The place is still new to me and sometimes, I can’t believe it myself that I actually got it open.”
“Well, if it helps you, I’m glad you’re here.”
“You look especially pretty today,” Kody told her. Colleen was a pretty girl—she just usually seemed to have that knack for downplaying herself.
Colleen flushed, glancing toward the door that led into the exhibit rooms. The main rooms included one dedicated to pre-European times, one dedicated to the colonists who arrived from Europe and various nearby islands, one to the changing flags of Key West, one dedicated to the pirate days that became the rich time of the wreckers, one room to the 1800s and the Civil War, and one dedicated to the sinking of the Maine and modern days. Two fun rooms were dedicated to the strange events that had occurred in Key West, and the hauntings and ghost stories, and there was a big gallery for local artists and musicians, the many creators in all their forms who had come from the island or spent time there, working and contributing to the culture of Key West.
Her father’s history and work were included in that room.
“We have guests still?” Kody asked.
Colleen smiled proudly. “Ten still in there. I told them not to worry—we don’t let anyone in after six, but they were welcome to stay. I’m not going anywhere tonight, so it doesn’t really matter. I mean, that’s all right—right?”
“That’s incredibly nice of you,” Kody assured her.
“No, it’s just...I love this place, too,” Colleen assured her.
“Thanks. I’ll just see how they’re doing.”
A single man in his late thirties or early forties was in the first room—one that described Key West from the time Ponce de Leon sailed by the southernmost islands and called them “Los Martires” or island of martyrs, to the time, about a hundred years later, when the island appeared on most maps—called Cayo Hueso, or Bone Key. Early indigenous tribes had been pressed south as European settlers arrived on the Eastern seaboard of North America. The Calusa were forced south until they fought a last battle with other tribes—and their bleached bones were left upon the sand and those who survived found refuge in Caribbean islands and were swallowed into history. The British wound up with possession for about twenty years; the islands were then inhabited frequently by Cuban fishermen, new Americans and the British, with none of the above really exerting any kind of control. At the end of the American Revolution, Florida, along with the Keys, was ceded to Spain. In early 1819, all of Florida was then ceded to the United States.
And it was time to go on to another room.
Kody caught up with a family of four in the “Arr! The Pirate’s Place!” room. The kids were playing at a table where she left bandanas and sweeping hats and plastic swords specifically for children. The parents were studying a poster on Commodore David Porter, who had rid the Keys of pirates but who had also been almost as disliked by the residents as he was by the pirates.
She greeted them, and they told her what a great time they were having—the museum had been designed with work tables for children in every room—and the kids were having fun while they were learning about the island.
She thanked the family for coming and, as Colleen had, told them they were welcome to stay as long as they liked.
Her next stop was in the room that focused on the Civil War—a tough time for Key West, though no battles were fought there. Florida had seceded from the Union; the Union held staunchly to the forts. And, of course, Union ships out of Key West played havoc with Confederate blockade runners. The end of the war once again started a new era for the area.
The young couple there was admiring the display that held uniforms from the day. Kody smiled and left them to look.
In the Artist’s Corner, she found another family, a teenaged son and mother and father. They were fascinated with the intimate information on her father, even more so than with the display on Hemingway.
She quickly left them, lest she get into a conversation about being her father’s daughter.
Back at the entrance, she praised Colleen. “I’m so pleased. They all seem happy.”
“Well, of course. Kody, few people love this island the way that you do, and it comes through in the museum. You’ve done a beautiful job here.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t help studying Colleen. The girl looked so different. Blushing, bright—pretty.
“I can’t get over how nice you look,” she said. Then, of course, her words sounded terrible to her own ears. “I mean, you always look nice. Just especially today. Did you do something...go somewhere...see someone?”
She was startled by the flush that crept over Colleen’s cheeks.
“In my dreams, I guess,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Silly, huh?”
“Um, what’s silly?”
“Last night... I had an amazing dream. There was...a man. He was by my side. Oh, I mean, it wasn’t an X-rated dream. Nothing like that. He was just there, touching my hair, telling me that I was beautiful and that I was sweet and that I needed to let my beauty shine. Kody, please, don’t laugh at me. It was so...real. I could have sworn that...whatever. It was nice. He said that he would write a song about me. I felt like this incredible person was there flirting with me and... Please, don’t laugh.”
“I would never laugh. Dreaming was apparently great for you.”
“I may even go out tonight.”
“That’s great.”
“Oh! Is that wrong? I mean...with what’s happened here...”
“No, it’s not wrong. Go out and have a good time,” Kody told her. “In fact, go now. I’m restless and at loose ends. You go!”
“Really? I mean, it was just a dream.”
“Use it!” Kody told her.
Colleen smiled as she picked up her things and walked to the door. She hesitated. “I didn’t know Cliff the way you did, but he seemed like a great guy.”
A great guy—Cliff had been a great guy. But suddenly Kody wondered...was he now running around flirting?
She’d seen it before; ghosts often appeared as if they had regained health—in appearance younger than the age they had been when they’d died.
Or maybe Colleen had simply had a dream in which she’d met a flirtatious musician.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Kody assured her.
Colleen left and Kody took a seat behind the desk.
She thought about the room on the era of the Civil War and the slave ship. Soon after the Victoria Elizabeth had gone down, the importing of slaves had become illegal. Kody drew out the work pad where she had been planning the movement of some pieces so that she could dedicate one wall to the ship and the horrors of the slave trade.
The front door opened and closed. She’d forgotten to lock it behind Colleen.
She looked up, about to apologize and say that the museum had closed.
But the words froze on her lips.
It was the man she had just met last night; Brodie McFadden. Maybe it was the way the light created a silhouette of him in the doorway, but she felt something shoot through her body.
She felt an instant attraction—and was then ashamed that she did so. She had just lost a friend; Brodie had been there. That was it.
Still, the man was compelling in every way. She didn’t feel this way any time she met an attractive man.
“Hello,” he said.
She gave herself a strong mental shake.
“Hi. I’m sorry. We’re not really open anymore. I’m just waiting for some visitors to leave. Okay, that was rude. How are you?”
He smiled. “I’m doing fine. I just came by to see how you were doing. I was walking down the street, and I saw the museum and I thought I’d just pop in and see if you were here.”
“I’m here.”
“I see. I’ll get out of your way.”
“No, no, no! I need to ask you—what about the cup? Did they find Cliff’s cup? Are they going to test it for what might have been in it?”
“They couldn’t find it.”
“What? I saw him—he had a drink.”
“Liam believes that in the hoopla going on when Cliff died, someone just picked it up and trashed it.”
“That’s—that’s...”
“Not impossible,” he said gently.
“No. Not impossible. Just improbable,” she said. “Well, thanks. Sure. Thanks. I... Wow. I am being rude. I’m sorry. Thank you. And thank you for coming by.”
“Do you have dinner plans?”
“Pardon?”
“Dinner. It’s that meal that we all usually eat sometime around now. Do you have plans?”
“Are you asking me to dinner?”
“I guess I am.” He was quiet a minute. “We’ve made some discoveries. Liam is going to be talking to you soon...but it’s been on the news, so it won’t matter if we talk. Say yes—it’s just a meal.”
No. She shouldn’t go out with him. It just somehow seemed...
Dangerous.
But there was something that had happened; she hadn’t seen the news. Liam was going to talk to her, but since it had been on the news...
“I still have people in the museum.”
“I can wait. There’s no particular exact time established for this dinner meal.”
She flushed and was annoyed with herself for flushing. Just say no. She wasn’t up to it.
“Sure,” she told him. “I do have to wait for...”
“I understand. Mind if I wander a bit myself?”
“Um...not at all.”
“Thanks!”
He moved through the hallway to the exhibits and she just sat, staring after him, wondering what it was about the man that she felt something so strongly...
Even though they had met just minutes before a very dear and old friend had suddenly dropped dead.