“It’s okay,” I assured him, already opening the door. “Take it. I’ll see you around.”
“Emersyn?” When I stopped, he said, “Really soon, I hope.”
We shared the briefest of smiles. Then I closed the door as he answered his call.
Chapter
Forty
My thoughts spun in my head like a frantic dust devil. As soon as I stepped on the elevator, I typed out a text to Jemma.
HALP! So confused!
I sent the message and tried some deep breathing. It didn’t do much good. I really needed my best friend to talk me out of my confusion. Bodie had nearly kissed me, and I’d wanted him to. Yet, in that moment when our lips had almost touched, I’d felt a tiny ping of guilt about Wyatt. Which was crazy, because Bodie was smoking hot and—even better—we had an emotional connection. And I still wasn’t convinced that it was the right time in my life for a romantic entanglement with either Bodie or Wyatt.
“There she is!” someone exclaimed as I stepped off the elevator.
Carmen and Agnes hovered outside the door to my apartment. Carmen held a silver-headed cane, and Agnes had a Tasty Buns box in her hands.
“We’ve come for an update on the case,” Agnes announced as I got closer. “We don’t want Zita and Zoltán suffering anymore.”
“And that detective was sniffing around the building,” Carmen added.
I stopped a few feet away from them. “Again? When?”
“He was knocking on your door not five minutes ago,” Carmen replied.
My heart sank. Here I was worried about men and relationships when what I needed to be worried about was keeping myself and Mr. Nagy out of jail.
Priorities, Emersyn! Come on!
Apprehension crept along my skin. “Did he mention why he wanted to talk to me?”
“We didn’t ask,” Agnes said. “We watched from around the corner.” She pointed over her shoulder, down the hallway.
“So?” Carmen cut in. “How’s the investigation going?”
I jangled my keys in my hand. “I’ve got a person of interest I want to speak with.”
“Who is it?” Agnes asked.
I unlocked the door to my apartment. “Well, I don’t want this getting back to Bitty…”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Agnes assured me. “Our lips are sealed. Right, Carmen?”
“I never engage in gossip,” Carmen said, her posture as regal as always. “You can confide in us.”
The ladies followed me into my apartment, and Agnes shut the door.
She handed me the box and nudged her glasses up higher on her nose. “An assortment of day-old goodies from my bakery. You need to keep your strength up.”
I peeked inside, and my mouth watered at the sight of the éclairs and the rolled lace cookies filled with mocha cream. “Thank you, Agnes.”
“The person of interest?” Carmen prompted as I tucked the box in the fridge.
“Freddie was seen talking to Bitty’s godson, Vincent, in the days before his death,” I said. “Apparently, Vincent owns a pawnshop, and I have reason to believe that Freddie may have been quietlytrying to sell some expensive whiskey from the early twentieth century.”
Carmen nodded with understanding. “And you think Vincent was his fence.”
