“Slow down, honey,” she says, stepping out onto the covered patio with me. “I think you need to take a seat.”
I shake my head. I don’t have time to sit and chat with her. If she’s about to confirm that Saint does exist and Louie just has dementia, then I still have to contend with Saint coming over tonight, and I never even made it to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for the recipe Mari gave me to try.
“So he’s real, right? He’s a real detective. I’m not going insane.”
Mari’s eyes flicker from mine toward the driveway. The sound of an approaching vehicle becomes evident over the sound of rain hitting the roof. I turn around, and we both watch as Louie pulls into their driveway.
“Shit,” Mari says.
“He doesn’t remember,” I say, turning back to Mari. “Louie has no recollection of Saint ever coming to talk to you guys about what was happening that night.”
“He’s a ... heavy sleeper. I may not have woken him up.” Mari smiles and pats my shoulder. “Okey dokey. You better get back. You’ve got company coming tonight.”
Louie has exited his truck and is making his way over to us. Mari looks nervous. It makes me instantly uneasy how she’s trying to dismiss me. Someone isn’t being honest.
“Mari?” I say to her.
“Mari!” Louie yells.
“Shit,” Mari mutters.
Louie is standing next to us now. He points at me while looking at Mari. “Did she ask you about it?”
“About what?” Mari says.
“The police chase.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“Mari remembers,” I say to Louie.
“Remembers what?” Louie says, his attention still on his wife.
Mari looks very uneasy. “It was nothing. Just some cops asking about an incident that happened a few weeks back.”
“Petra said someone died. And you didn’t think to tell me about it?”
“Mari, you told me that two cops came and spoke to youandLouie about it.”
Louie’s hands move to his hips, and he tilts his head at Mari. “What in the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?”
“Nothing,” she insists. Every single inch of her is screaming that she’s lying.
Louie throws up his hands as if he knows this too. “I don’t want to know. If there’s a body, I don’t want to know.”
“There wasn’t a body,” Mari says to him defensively. “Not a real one.”
Not a real one?
“Yes, there was,” I said. “You told me you saw it.”
Louie grabs the front door and opens it, but before he walks inside, he looks at Mari with a very serious expression. “I’m going in the house. I want no part of this. But whatever it is, you better tell this woman the truth, because we need that rental money and I am not getting sued over whatever wacko stunt you’re pulling.”
Stunt?
Sued?
“Louie, wait!” I say, pleading. But he disappears inside and slams the front door. Now I’m just out here with a very guilty-looking Mari.
