Nearly an hour later, the waitress sat them at a circular red-velvet booth surrounded by curved shiplap walls. Despite the early hour, low lighting offered a certain ambiance to the place. All the windows were covered with thick velvet curtains, blocking out any sunlight that would’ve killed the serious mood.
Or allowed anyone passing by to see what was going on inside.
“Is it just me, or is this place better suited for romanticdinners than breakfast?” Daisy asked. “Who wants bacon and eggs by candlelight?”
Apparently, a lot of people. Cordelia took in what little of the surroundings she could see with privacy walls blocking each individual dining table, but most of the patrons appeared to be normal customers. If Benedict’s was truly a front for illegal activities, would they try so hard to be legit? Or had their popularity been purely by accident? Texans did love their kitsch.
“I’m going to the bathroom, see if I can get a better look around.” Cordelia scooched out of the booth. “Order me an orange juice and a glass of the Dew Valley.”
She didn’t have any intention of getting tipsy, but she wanted to taste the wine. Get a feel for what made it so special. She figured the more information they were armed with, the better chance they’d have of solving this murder before someone pinned it on Daisy.
As Cordelia made her way to the back of the restaurant, no one paying her much mind, she spotted Stella and Gladys sharing a private moment in a booth. Stella turned her head and Cordelia dove behind a potted plant. The last thing she wanted was to be spotted by a local and have to answer questions about what she was doing there.
Cordelia spread the thick, waxy leaves apart and peered between them. Stella and Gladys sat on the same side of the booth, shoulders touching, sharing an intimate laugh together. It struck Cordelia with the force of a brick to the face. How had she not seen it before? Stella and Gladys weren’t gal pals. They were lovers.
No wonder Stella hadn’t minded if the pastor spent time with Daisy. Cordelia didn’t condone cheating, but was it really cheating if both parties consented? Stella certainly didn’t look worse off for it. In fact, she had a glow of happiness around her that had been noticeably absent in Cordelia’s youth. She should’ve knownthe first time she ran into her in the library. Women could smell joy on each other like bees could smell fear.
Not wanting to interrupt, Cordelia eased her way around the plant and hurried to the bathroom. There was no sense in letting Stella know she’d seen her. There was a reason why they’d come all the way out here for breakfast, and Cordelia had no interest in putting Stella in an awkward position. She had more respect for her elders than that.
As she passed by the kitchen, the door swung open and a man came storming out. He bumped Cordelia’s shoulder roughly, sending her careening backward.
“Pardon me.” The man had a thick Irish accent. He grabbed both her arms to steady her, and getting a good look at his face, Cordelia felt her blood drain down to her toes.
It was the man with the ill-fitting tan suit, though he wore a closely fitted navy today. The man Edna had been talking to outside the library. His eyes narrowed as recognition dawned on his features. Cordelia didn’t need a formal introduction to know she was staring straight into the flat eyes of Sean O’Leary.
His hair was thinner on top than on the sides, with that glaring bald patch she remembered. His thin nose was dotted with the remnants of bologna-colored freckles that had faded to blend in with his ruddy complexion. An old scar marked his chin, cutting a line across the cleft.
His eyes were his most disconcerting feature, so light they were nearly translucent, with the whites threaded with broken blood vessels. But it wasn’t the coloring so much as the absolute chill emanating from them. The kind of cold usually reserved for the deepest parts of the ocean.
“I’m s-sorry.” Cordelia stumbled over her words, grasping for a smooth exit.
Sean kept his hands on her, his fingers flexing against thematerial of her jacket. He eyed her like a teacher assessing his pupil, as if debating how many whacks with a ruler he should dole out. The last thing she wanted was to get on this man’s radar, but it didn’t seem as though she could avoid it, given his interest in the Chickadee.
“I’m just...” Cordelia pointed toward the bathroom. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course.” Sean dropped his hands like she had burned him, but his eyes tracked her pale features and quivering upper lip. Being openly terrified out of her mind was not the best way to go about being inconspicuous.
Cordelia began to hustle away, but a finger snap drew her attention back to Sean.
“I hope you’re here simply to enjoy a fine breakfast, Miss West, and not for any other reason. I’d hate to think you were checking up on me.” Sean dipped his chin and gave her a knowing smile that didn’t reach his near-lifeless eyes.
Cordelia’s pulse rang in her ears as all thoughts emptied from her head. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
“Not cordially, no. But your sheriff is an old acquaintance of mine, and I like to keep an eye on my business interests.”
“Respectfully, we don’t, nor will we ever, have business in common. If you’ll excuse me.” She turned around and prided herself on keeping her cool until she reached the bathroom. Shutting the door, she leaned against it and held a hand over her racing heart.
How much attention had he been paying to the Chickadee? Had he recognized her that day outside the library? And just how deep did his association with Sarsaparilla Falls go? Once again, Cordelia cursed the sheriff for deleting the warehouse pictures off her phone. If only she’d taken a little more time to read the documents as she sifted through them.
Cordelia splashed cool water over her face and peeked her head out the door. The private dining alcoves made it impossible to get a full view of the restaurant. Tiptoeing her way back into the dining room, she took the long way around to avoid Stella and Gladys. Sean wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She should’ve been relieved, but the unknown engendered fear.
At the table, Daisy slid over to make room for Cordelia and held up her menu. “What do you think sounds better, an omelet or French toast?”
“Either is fine.” Cordelia peered around the alcove wall, but the aisles between tables were clear save for a single waitress bringing coffee around. “But I think we should go.”
“Go?” Daisy dropped her menu. “What on earth for?”
“I’m not going anywhere until I get my steak and eggs,” Arline said.
