“And make him wear a coat,” she adds.
Hughes follows me out. “You’re investigating, aren’t you?”
It’s not lost on me how he pulls the thin trench coat around him. “Guess women aren’t the only ones who sacrifice comfort for fashion.”
“I’m not cold,” he says stubbornly as he follows me deeper into the market. “What are you investigating? Did you find another clue?”
“And you’re buying things for Taylor Grace, aren’t you?”
“No. For my mom.”
“Hmm.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Men are liars.”
“Wow.”
I should tell him to fuck off, but I don’t really have the patience to deal with tourists, and between Taylor Grace being a malevolent Christmas spirit and Josie being busy, well, it is nice to have someone to talk to. Argue with, I mean.
“Okay, fine.” I pull out the earring. “I found this in my stall after Dr. Merriweather, you know, ate his last Christmas cookie.”
He picks it up off my palm, inspecting the earring.
“How do you know it was there from the murderer?”
“I don’t,” I admit. “But if you have better clues to follow up on, I’m all ears.”
“No. The police haven’t been much help.”
“Shocker.”
He follows me into a stall that sells higher-end Christmas-themed gold jewelry.
“Looking for something special?” the middle-aged woman asks from behind the counter.
“Maybe—” I pull out the earring. “Do you sell anything that looks like this?”
“Hmmm.” She inspects it.
“This looks like a design I sold a ton of a couple of years ago. I’m off this design, though. You always have to have new things at the Christmas market.”
“Shoot. I guess you don’t remember who bought them?”
She gives me a weird look.
“My fiancée likes them so much,” Hughes jumps in, “that we are thinking about giving them as bridal party favors.” His arm slides around my waist.
I smile like I’m part of a happy couple.
“But I warned her that we need to check and make sure the girls don’t already have duplicates. And it’s not like she can just snoop in their houses, especially because a lot of them live out of town.”
“Oh!” The woman brightens. “I love a wedding! What a fun gift. Let me pull my records.”
Hughes winks at me.
She hums along to the jazzy tune of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” coming from the speakers.
