Leslie found Aunt Cherry—along with Orbra, Iva Bergstrom, and a distinguished-looking man who must be the infamous Hollis Nath—sitting at a round table beneath a four-foot-square print of Warhol’s tomato soup can piece. There were several empty chairs at the table, and for a moment, Leslie feared they were to be joined by Maxine Took, her peremptory cane, and her squabbling companionJuanita.
Her apprehension must have been written on her face, for Cherry laughed and pointed to an empty seat. “Don’t worry—Maxine already ate. She and Juanita have been staking out the Sunflower House, in hopes of capturing—I meancatching—John Fischer. Neither of them will be here tonight. Sit! We’ve been waiting to order till you gothere.”
“I’m so sorry! We lost track of time, and—” Leslie clamped her lips together and picked up the menu to scrutinize its extensive beer list. “Are there any good wheat beers onhere?”
“We?” Cherry jumped on the pronoun as Leslie had known she would. Meddling auntie. “Who’swe?”
Damn. “Declan Zyler stopped by. So, what do you think of this beer Soft Parade? Is it anygood?”
“Declan was over? And you lost track of time?” Orbra pounced before her partner in crime even had the chance. Her eyes were narrow with delight. “Well, well,well—”
“It was nothing like that,” Leslie said with exasperation. “He just came over to check on something with the railing,and—”
“If Declan Zyler came over to my house, not only would we lose track of time, he wouldn’t be leaving until the sun came up,” Cherry said with a wicked grin. “At least if you’re not interested in him, will you put in a good word for your cougarlyaunt?”
“Is cougarly even aword?”
“Oh, so now we’re the grammarpolice.”
“Oh, Leslie’s interested in Declan, all right,” Orbra interjected. “Look at her cheeks! They’re turningpink.”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “That pink you see is nothing more than shame over my aunt’s desperate ways.” Geesh. She hadn’t felt this awkward about her relationship with a man—or lack thereof—since highschool.
Determined to put space between herself and her aunt’s highly charged interest, she turned to greet the older man sitting two seats away from her. Though he was at least seventy, he had a full head of pure white hair and was dressed in a suit and tie despite the informal occasion. “I’m Leslie Nakano. You must be Hollis Nath. I know you’ve met her before, but I’ll apologize in advance for my aunt. She’s…different. Too many failed yoga headstands, I suspect. Her arms just gave out, andclunk—onto herhead.”
Hollis chuckled and shook the hand she extended in greeting. “I confess, I’d rather drive to Chicago with your aunt Cherry than Maxine and Juanita again,” he joked. “At least I was in the front seat and could pretend not to hear them when they tried to get me to takesides.”
“Now, Hollis, darling,” Iva said with a mock frown. “You know Maxine and Juanita are good people. Loud and argumentative, butgood—and smart. After all, theydidhelp to catch that murderer right here in Wicks Hollow last summer. I only wish I’d been there tohelp!”
“Well, I, for one, am gladyouweren’t tangling with amurderer.”
“That’s because she was tangling with you instead,” Cherrymuttered.
Leslie smothered a chuckle. Iva and Hollis were an adorable couple: he with his tall frame, thick white hair, and distinguished air, and Iva with her short, perfectly plump figure, round apple cheeks, and bright, sparkling blueeyes.
Hollis was smiling down at her and Leslie was struck by the naked adoration in his eyes. “When are you going to agree to marry me, Iva, darling?” he said, taking up her hand and bringing it to his lips for a gentlekiss.
“Oh, not that again, Hollis! Why would you want to ruin a perfectly good affair by putting a ring on it?” Iva shook her head, but there was affection in her expression aswell.
“Well, I’d say the question of ruination would depend on the ring,” Orbramuttered.
“I don’t care what they say—sizedoesmatter,” Cherry replied, and they giggled together like two middle schoolgirls.
“Well, now, you can’t blame a guy for asking, darling. Again.” Hollis laughed and leaned forward to kiss his lady on the cheek, but Leslie thought she saw real sadness lingering in his expression.He really does loveher.
Iva didn’t seem to notice, for she turned to Leslie. “I do hope you’re going to let me come and check out your house. I’m certain I’ll be able to sense whether it’shaunted.”
Leslie was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the waiter—who turned out to be none other than Tribhimself.
The proprietor was tall and slender, pushing fifty, and had a bleached buzzcut that was just long enough on top to be rakish. He wore a yellow flowered bowtie, sleek rimless eyeglasses that probably cost four figures, and a turquoise polka dot shirt. He looked as if he’d just stepped off a page ofVogueorTheAdvocate.
“So at last I get to actually meet the new owner of Shenstone House,” he said with a subtle pout. “I saw the article in the paper today, and amdesperateto stop by and see what you’ve done to the inside. Is this your first time here atTrib’s?”
“Not at all. But usually you’re busy when I’ve come in,” Leslie told him. “A pleasure to finally meet you. I have to say, you’ve got the best pizza I’ve ever had. The Wise Guy—the one with sausage…oh my God, it’s amazing. And there’s something about the sauce…I think you must have laced it with crack orsomething.”
“That’s right, sweetie,” Trib said with a pleased nod, as if the compliment was nothing more than his due. “I’m glad you’re back. And with these two ruffians.” He winked broadly at Cherry and Orbra, who were only half listening, as they had their heads together. “What can I get youall?”
They’d just finished placing their order when the door swept open and two men camein.
