“Such as?”
Before I can answer, our waitress arrives with perfect timing and questionable seafood recommendations. “Evening, folks! Can I start you with some gator bites? They’re caught fresh from our very own lagoon!”
I wrinkle my nose at the thought. Is this a thing? Please tell me it’s not a thing.
“I’ll stick with something that wasn’t recently swimming in the same water as my dinner view,” I tell her. “How’s the jambalaya?”
“Excellent choice! And for you, handsome?”
Dexter orders the catfish, and I try not to be charmed by the way he smiles at the clearly smitten waitress. The woman looks ready to abandon her tables and follow him home, which, honestly, I can’t blame her.
“So,” he says once we’re alone again, “back to this suspect pool of dysfunction.”
“Well, there’s the business partner who’s been carrying on Sugar & Sass single-handedly while Dilly took all the credit. There’s the Southern belle with the grudge about her mother’s ruined bakery. And there’s the society matron who?—”
I stop myself before I mention the affair, because that particular bombshell involves his mother, and I’m not sure how much family drama I want to dump on this almost-date.
“Who what?” He narrows his eyes on mine because he so knows the diabolical direction this was going.
“Who has control issues and a clipboard addiction that borders on criminal?” I shrink in my seat.
“You’re talking about my mother.”
“I’m talking about a woman who treats event planning with the intensity of a military operation.”
“Same thing.” He leans back in his chair, studying my face in the flickering candlelight. “You know, you’re being awfully cagey about this investigation. Usually, you’re more forthcoming with details.”
“Usually, I’m not having a dinner date with the lead detective on the case.”
Okay, so the who dinner with the lead detective on the case thing has definitely happened before, but who’s counting?
“Is that what this is? A date?” His lips curve at the edges as if he’s enjoying every delicious minute of it.
The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with possibilities and complications. Before I can answer, our food arrives—steaming plates of jambalaya and catfish that smell like heaven and look like they couldfeed a small army.
“Enjoy, y’all!” the waitress chirps, clearly hoping Dexter will notice her helpful service and possibly ask for her number.
I’m about to dig into my jambalaya when a familiar figure appears at our table with all the subtlety of a hurricane making landfall.
“Dexter!” Delora’s voice cuts through the restaurant’s romantic ambiance as she drags a chair from a nearby table and plants herself at our intimate table for two. “Thank heavens you’re here!”
She looks frazzled in a way that’s completely at odds with her usual impeccable appearance. Her silver hair has escaped its perfect twist, her lipstick is slightly smudged, and there’s a wild look in her eyes that suggests she’s either having a breakdown or plotting someone’s demise. Possibly mine.
“Mother?” Dexter blinks at her unexpected appearance as if it were more plausible for Dilly’s ghost to have sat with us. And I so would have preferred Dead Dilly. “What are you doing here? How did you even know where I was?”
“I have my ways,” she replies cryptically, smoothing her skirt and trying to regain her composure. “We need to talk. Immediately.”
“We’re having dinner,” I point out, because apparently, someone needs to state the obvious.
“This is more important than food,” Delora snaps, and from the wild look in her eyes, I’m starting to think she might actually be serious.
Before anyone can respond, the restaurant’s entrance explodes with the energy of two women on a mission. Georgie and Ree burst through the door, both looking slightly out of breath and completely frazzled.
“I tried to stop her!” Ree calls out, spotting our table and hurrying over. “I really did, but you know how she gets when she’s determined!”
“She shook the information out of me!” Georgie declares,stabbing a finger at Delora. “I had no choice! She’s very persuasive when she wants to be!”
I stare at Georgie, momentarily confused. “What information?”
