I snort as he ignores me, and Syrus raises his brow at me.
“Let’s take a walk before Shep takes a wrench to your thick skull and I have a homicide to deal with,” he mutters.
“Have many of those?” I joke, following him out of the shop.
“Here? Nah,” he replies. “That’s why I moved to Widows Peak. What it lacks in crime, it makes up for in hilarity. Just last week, I went out to investigate who has stolen Duchess’s petunias.”
“Riveting stuff,” I tease him.
“It was since it led me on a chase through town. It reminds me of Clue without the murder part. Several seniors in the Garden Club worked together to replant them all over. Duchess couldn’t retrieve them because she was worried they wouldn’t survive the transplant back to her yard. She’s won a lot of competitions for best flowers,” he explains. “Never trust how petty a competitive senior can get.”
I can’t help but chuckle, because now I’m imagining how ridiculous that had to have been.
“So let me get this straight,” I say. “Now the petunias belong to the town and she can’t technically enter them into a contest?”
“That’s about the gist of it,” Syrus says, shaking his head. “So damn petty.”
The two of us chuckle at their antics as we walk before he glances over at me.
“I’m taking you to Mrs. Hall’s bakery for some of her chocolate cake while you tell me why you’re here,” he grunts. “I’ll tow your ass to the next town over to fix your vehicle if I don’t like your answers.”
“That’s harsh,” I comment, amused by him. I’ll tell him some of why we’re here, just enough so he’ll realize we’re not the problem.
The walk to the bakery is short, and it’s also fairly busy. People are dressed in work clothes, and appear to be on their way home.
“Mrs. Hall, my parents are coming over tonight. Do you still have any of your peanut butter cake?” a petite woman with short blue hair asks.
She looks like she should be performing in a rock band instead of being worried about making her parents happy. Her leather pants and crop top also lend to this idea.
“I do in the back,” a woman I assume is Mrs. Hall says with a smile. “I’ll go get it for you, Astrid. Are you thinking a few slices, or a full cake?”
“Can I do half a cake, please?” Astrid asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Maybe if they’re eating, they won’t freak out so much when I introduce them to my girlfriend.”
“Lily is lovely though,” Mrs. Hall says, frowning. “I’ll be right back, dear.”
Astrid wrings her hands as she nods, and I wonder about why she’s so worried.
“Astrid, is this going to be a safe conversation for you to have with your parents?” Syrus asks, getting her attention.
She makes a face as she turns, her nose ring winking in the light.
“They’re here visiting, and don’t understand why I prefer Widows Peak to Denver. I was able to open my bookstore here, and I can go for a run whenever I want without worrying I’m going to be kidnapped,” she sighs. “They want me to move back, but?—”
“You have a life here,” Syrus reminds her gently. “That’s what you should tell them. I’ll have an officer patrol your street tonight. You know, just in case you need someone to stop by for cake, or help you out.”
“I’m glad I packed a few extra slices then,” Mrs. Hall says lightly as she returns.
Astrid looks more relaxed as she pays, and says goodbye. Syrus and I wait our turn and Mrs. Hall pretends she isn’t watching me as she serves us two slices of fudge cake.
“We’re going to use your patio, Mrs. Hall,” he says with a smile.
“It’s getting too cold to sit outside,” she replies.
Something secretive passed between them, and I have a feeling no one will be bothering us.
I take the bottles of water she hands to me, and we make our way outside. I can see the close knit community Syrus mentioned. It’s giving more small town that care about each other than deliverance vibes which is nice, but it’s not something I'm very accustomed to.
It’s easier to hide in larger cities, and it’s where much of our work has been centered. Astrid is right: it’s more likely for something bad to happen in a larger city than a place like Widows Peak. I can see the allure.
