“Oh, no! Do you really have to go? I have so many questions! Are you doing private contracting now? Did the police ever apologize to you for thinking you had something to do with your neighbor’s murder? Did it hurt when you got shot?”
Nick put a hand on Riley’s shoulder and flashed a double-dimple smile meant to confuse and dazzle. “Sorry, Mrs. McShillens. But we’ve got to get going. Riley has a lot of important psychic stuff to do today.”
Riley nodded. “Yeah. Psychic stuff. A whole lot of it.”
He steered her toward the front door, Cindy and Maxine on their heels.
“Wait till I tell the girls that Riley Thorn was in my house. Do you have some kind of hotline I can call if I need psychic help? Or maybe an email address?”
Nick towed Riley out the front door and onto the porch. “Hurry it up, Thorn.”
But she dug her heels in and paused.
“Your grandfather died skydiving,” Riley said.
“Oh. My. God. How did you know?”
“She’s psychic, Cin,” Jim reminded his wife.
“Ooh! Wait! Can I get a picture?” Cindy held her cell phone aloft. “Please, please, please?”
“Uh. Sure,” Riley said in resignation.
Cindy thrust her phone at Nick and wrapped her arms around Riley, squeezing her much like her daughter holding the octopus.
“Thank you for the information. You’ve been very helpful,” Nick said. He handed the phone back and dragged Riley off the porch.
“So?” he said when he got behind the wheel.
“What?” she grumbled, securing her seat belt.
“Does Maxine ever outgrow her biting phase?”
Her lips twitched. “Not before she gets kicked out of two more daycares.”
21
1:13 p.m., Sunday, August 16
Riley stuffed her phone back in her bag.
“Was Weber impressed with your report?” Nick asked.
“He sounded busy.” She pulled out a Santiago Investigations hat and put it on. After getting recognized by another stranger, she wasn’t taking any chances on the crowded deck of Wormleysburg’s favorite riverfront restaurant.
“Investigating homicides for a living will do that. Now, let’s go drink some beers and feel smug about our life choices,” he said, pulling her toward Dockside Willies.
Inside, she tugged the bill of the hat lower and didn’t make eye contact with anyone.
The host led them out onto the deck and slapped menus on a table with a great view of the skeletal remains of the Walnut Street Bridge. The site of their first official kiss.
Riley blinked when Nick pulled out a chair for her.
“You’re pulling out my chair for me?”
“I can be gentlemanly,” he insisted.
“Alistair really did a number on you, didn’t he?” she teased.
