“Fishy.” Add that to the soggy dough and smelly cheese…it was all-around bad.
“Luckily, we like Burt,” Luke muttered as they stepped inside the pizzeria.
Burt looked up from behind the counter, a huge-ass smile spreading across his face. “Jesse! Luke! My favorite boys.”
Burt was a short, round, balding man who had the biggest smile you’d ever seen. He also had a big voice and an even bigger laugh. He circled the counter and pulled Luke, then Jesse, into a hug.
“Please tell me you’re here for pleasure, not business,” Burt said, stepping back. “I can have a Margherita pizza in the oven in minutes. Pair it with some garlic bread and a glass of wine? On the house for friends, of course.”
Luke patted his stomach. “I just ate.”
Burt threw up his arms. “Hey, there’s always room for pizza. Come on.”
The older man started to turn, but Jesse touched his arm. “Burt, we need to speak to Pete. Is he here?”
The smile dropped from Burt’s face. “What’s my nephew done now? Was he speeding through town again? Do I need to—”
Jesse shook his head. “He didn’t do anything wrong. We just need to ask him about something. He could really help us.”
“Oh. Well, if Pete can help with an investigation, he certainly will. He should be back any minute. Actually, there he is.”
Jesse followed Burt’s gaze outside to see Pete pulling up in his old beat-up Kia. Jesse gripped Burt’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Rain check on the pizza,” Luke added as they stepped outside.
“Anytime,” Burt called. “Don’t be strangers.”
Pete looked up as he climbed out of his car, immediately rolling his eyes. “If this is about that cranky old bag Mrs. Allen,I’mthe one who should be pressing charges. She’s hit me with that cane so many times, I probably have brain damage. It’s not my fault she crosses the road at the pace of a snail.”
“This isn’t about Mrs. Allen,” Jesse said as they stopped in front of him.
“It isn’t?” Pete shifted his gaze from Jesse to Luke and back. “Is it about old man Jack? Because I didn’t almost hit him. I gave him a wide berth around that corner.”
Jesus, the kid should not be a delivery driver. “It’s about the delivery you made to my house last night. A woman by the name of Aspen took it.”
“Oh. I didn’t do anything to her.”
“Did you approach a car after you delivered the pizza?” Luke asked.
“Yeah. Some jerk in a Beamer.”
“They were driving a BMW?” Jesse asked.
“A black one. He looked like he was watching the house, so I went over to ask him what he was doing, but he didn’t even roll down his window. Just sped off the second I got close. Almost ran over my damn foot.”
Damn, the kid probably didn’t have much information then. “Did you see what he looked like?”
“The windows were tinted, but it was definitely a dude. I saw short, dark hair and he had broad shoulders. Looked thin. Maybe had a goatee.”
Jesse’s chest tightened. Dylan fit that description, but it wasn’t enough to identify him. Was it possible the asshole was here in Amber Ridge? Was it even possible he’d been the person in Aspen’s bedroom window last night?
Fuck. The idea made him want to drop everything and find her. Not let her out of his sight.
“Anything else you can tell us?” Luke asked.
Pete shoved his shaggy hair off his forehead. “Nah. Don’t think so. Why? Is he in trouble? Was the Beamer stolen?”
Jesse patted the kid’s shoulder. “Thanks for your help. Call us if you remember anything else.”
