“Yeah?” His brow lowered suspiciously. “Why’s that?”
“Uh, you know. You just seem like a nice guy, that’s all.” I gave him a winning smile.
Gideon took a bite of his muffin and chewed it deliberately, his eyes on my face. I fought the urge to squirm.
“Parker?” he said, after he’d swallowed.
“Yeah?”
“You’re cute. Really cute. Ten years ago, I would’ve fucked you in a heartbeat. But right now, I’m not in the market for a date. And besides, I know you and Burke are”—He waved a hand—“whatever complicated thing you are. So what exactly did you want?”
I licked my lips, my face on fire. I debated arguing about what Jamie and I were, but… it was irrelevant and dishonest to boot.
“I saw Dennis Rodman wave at you,” I blurted. “I just wanted to know what you told him, unofficially, and what the heck is going on with the investigation. All I get when I call Unity Financial is a flat statement that it’s still ongoing…”
“And you’re getting impatient.”
Actually, Gideon. Part of me would be happy to remain in this fantasyland of stasis forever, but the other part justknowsthis shit isn’t gonna end well, so…
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Kinda.”
Gideon nodded, then he smiled, anddamn, the dude’s whole face was different when he smiled. “There. Was it so fucking hard to ask for what you needed?”
I blinked. “I guess not?”
Gideon grunted. “As it happens, I’m not allowed to comment on the investigation,” he said in a measured tone. “But I could make some general comments.”
“General comments?”
“Mmm. Like, for example, I could comment that if an investigation is still ongoing, and no one has been arrested or even officially questioned by law enforcement, there’s probably nothing new to report.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah.” I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“I could also say that if a case of suspected arson appears to have been an isolated incident, there’s nothing fucking new to dig up.” Gideon rolled his eyes. “Except that someone broke in and vandalized the lot a few weeks back.”
“Right.”
“Which would generally point the fucking investigationawayfrom the owner of the bar, especially since the people who reported it—a Richard and Denise Talwood from Baldwinsville, who were staying at the Crabapple—were able to say for certain that it happened between ten p.m. and four a.m., during which time you had an alibi, provided by Jameson Burke.”
I frowned. “Ricky—I mean, Richard and Denise—were the ones who reported it?”
“You know them?” he asked. Then he quickly added, “No, don’t tell me.”
“I don’t know them,” I said anyway. “I stayed in the room next door to them, though, before the blizzard.” And it looked like maybe Ricky had paid me back for the sleepless nights after all.
Gideon grunted again. It seemed to be his primary language. “You just keep on keeping on, Parker. They’ve got nothing, and Dennis knows it. Longer he keeps this investigation going, the more important it is for him to produce some evidence of something, and if he can’t figure out who might’ve done it, he’s gonna have to close up shop here and pay your claim.”
I nodded slowly. “Patience isn’t my forte.”
“I feel that.” Gideon grinned. “So what do you think happened?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t a clue. And believe me, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about things when I should have been sleeping.”
“You having some anxiety?” Gideon asked sharply. “PTSD? Reliving things?”
I shook my head. “Iwas. I was. But now? No.”
“Good.” His smile widened. “Now,me? I’d be spending my nights thinking about who could’ve done me wrong. But that’s just me.”
