“Sit your ass down, Thorn. I’m hungry.”
They sat and snapped open the menus. Donuts long ago digested by adrenaline, she decided on the sliders and a beer since her day had gone to hell in a handbasket.
Nick leaned back and hooked his foot around the leg of her chair, scooting her closer. “This is nice.”
She looked around them. It was hot, but the overhead fans helped stir the humidity around to make it almost tolerable. “Yeah. Beautiful summer weather.”
“I meant being here with you,” he corrected.
“What’s gotten into you?” she asked.
“Me? Nothing’s gotten into me. Stop asking me why I’m making an effort.”
“You’re being very attentive and grumpy about it,” Riley pointed out.
“Can I take your drink orders?” A harried server who had already sweated through his polo shirt arrived just in time to save Nick from having to answer.
They ordered, and the server left, leaving little beads of sweat on the edge of the table.
“Did you get anything helpful from Cindy?” Riley asked Nick.
He shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting to. Just confirmed that Larry was a flake that no one liked. Lazy. Grumpy. Entitled.”
She crossed her arms. “I feel like both cases are going nowhere fast. Two dead bodies with nothing in common but the fact that both victims were assholes? And then there’s a father of four who up and vanishes before someone steals his cat. How can there be no leads in either case?”
Something was simmering in the back of her head. Something she couldn’t see yet. Like an itch she couldn’t reach.
“It happens,” Nick said. “Every once in a while, a criminal is either really good at what they do or gets really lucky.”
“You’re leaning toward Larry being dead, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. He’s just not smart enough to disappear on his own.”
“It could have been an accident. A hit and run while he was out for a jog. Or maybe he had a heart attack? He could be in an ICU under John Doe,” she suggested.
He shook his head. “He had a DUI arrest about ten years back. His prints are on file. He would have been identified by now. Besides, someone had to know he wasn’t coming back.”
“And that someone took his cat.”
The server returned with their beers and more sweat.
“I’ve got Brian running some fancy configurations on the doorbell footage hoping we come up with some identifying mark that’ll lead us in the direction of the guy who stole his cat.”
“Do you think the guy who took his cat had something to do with his disappearance?”
Nick nodded. “My gut says yes. Even if the catnapper had his own keys to the place, how else would he have known Larry wasn’t there? He didn’t ring the bell or knock. He walked straight in.”
“Good point.” Something tickled at the back of her mind again. “Maybe he was doing it because he didn’t want Mr. Pickles to starve?”
“You mean, you think a potential murderer knew Rupley had a cat and knew no one would come looking for him for a while?” he pressed.
“Yeah. What if he’s one of the neighbors? Neighbors give each other keys all the time? Or maybe he’s the landlord?”
“The landlord is a six-foot seven-inch former high school basketball star. I checked up on him, and he was on a Bermuda cruise the week the vic disappeared.”
“Have you talked to Kellen?”
Nick took a long pull on his beer. “He’s got his hands full with your sparkly dead bodies. I filed a missing person’s report this morning while you were trying to burn down the farmers’ market.”
