I could saynoand go my own way, but if they can help me, why not? I’m out of date with what’s changed here and don’t have enough local knowledge. By myself I’ll be flailing around in the dark trying to get people to talk to me. This sounds promising.
I lower the cup and smile. “Thank you, Molly, Ron. I would love some help. But only what you feel you want to do.”
“Feel we want to do? For sure. All for one and one for all, hey Ron?”
“Yup,” he says. “And the true crime shelves need sorting.”
Shelves? True crime? What have I done? “You run a bookshop?”
They both nod. “Pages and Pottery,” they chorus.
“Okay. I have to tell you about another thing though, so you know that my presence, in your shop and all, it could put you in danger.”
They lean in and listen avidly while I relate the story of how Kail hauled off the man at my back door then only Kail returned to…speak to me.
I’m beetroot red halfway through the tale, but they say nothing, and when I’m done…
“Pfft. We’re in. Right, Ron?”
He chuckles. “Certainly. We wouldn’t miss this bit of excitement for anything. You’d have to beat us away with a stick. We’re in. All systems go, Miss Hailey.”
I’m eyerolling, amused, and lost for words but also grateful. “Thank you, again.”
Squiggly octopus cat arrives, dramatically leaping onto the railing then down next to me, with his tail hair flying. He purrs like an affection machine while rubbing his cheek against my leg. Patting him, or her, gives me an opportunity to simply sit there in the warm morning sun and rearrange my thoughts. I really need to settle on a name.
“Is he yours?” I toss back to the McCluskers.
“Nope,” says Ron. “Ours is out front sleeping, and if she sees this ’un, there might be some ruckussing.”
“Ruckussing.” Molly laughs. “Not yours, Hailey?”
“No. Though it surely seems set on staying with me.” It butts me with its forehead. “Less assaults please, Squiggle cat.”
Today I need more time for thought rearranging than on a normal non-murdery day. Not that anyone did get murdered, though I could be wrong there. This topic has been on my mind since I arrived.
“That’s a cutie,” Ron says. “So, you didn’t bring him with you?”
“Nope. He just appeared.” I rub between his eyes with my forefinger, and he soaks it up, contentedly, then flops to the timber. “Guess I’m staying then, hey?” He purrs louder as Istroke from his head all the way down to his soft tail. I twist in place to ask my new friends and awesome neighbors a vital question.
“Would you have some cat food I can borrow?”
“We got plenty, don’t we, Ron?”
He nods. “We can loan you some for Squiggle.”
“Thank you. Guess that’s your name then?” I tell the cat. Kraken was a bit too crazy.
11
ONLY VILLAINS PLAY GOLF
Clay Skinner, CEO of Revenant Institute
Putter in hand, I straighten from my squat and test my swing. It should curve slightly to the left on this final hole. I draw back and execute a perfect stroke, studying the golf ball as it describes an arc on the green grass of the ninth hole of the Revenant Golf Course.
The drop and small rattle seals it. I make a fist.
“Damn. You beat me again, Clay,” Bertrand moves to shake my hand, and I accept it for a brief shake. Of course I beat him. I cheated on the second-last hole because he deserved to lose.
