“Fran.” She shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I coughed. “Oh. I figured you were Sharon Smith.” Yep. Totally fishing right then since I figured Sharon didn’t work at the store. Perhaps Fran knew her.
She frowned. “No. Who’s that?”
Great question and I was nowhere closer to finding out. “Dunno.” I turned and headed to the door with my bag that contained the wrong Christmas present for Aiden Devlin. Maybe my dad would like it.
I calledBernie from the Rogue and arranged to meet him at McQuirk’s Deli by the prosecuting attorney’s office for an afternoon coffee. I was hot on the case and not avoiding Aiden, and I could almost convince myself of that fact. My phone had buzzed a few times from him, and I figured I’d read his texts later. Right now, I needed to concentrate.
Yeah, I could bury my head in the sand like the best of them. Or in the snow, anyway.
McQuirk’s was quiet this winter afternoon with more holiday music playing throughout. I sat at a table near the window that looked out past the silent volleyball courts to the frigid lake. Lilac Lake was much bigger than my quaint Tamarack Lake, even to the point of being connected to rivers on either side that could lead to other lakes. Today the cold had stilled her waves, giving her a steel-gray hue that made me shiver.
Bloated clouds had rolled in, fierce and gray, starting to smother the weak sun. A quick scroll through my phone showed that snow was coming. I didn’t really need an app to tell me that.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a call. “Hi. I’m fine,” I answered.
“Where are you?” Aiden asked mildly.
“I’m working but am safe. Armed and everything,” I said, blowing on my peppermint mocha. “I’ll need a ride home a little later, but if you’re not around, I’ll find somebody.”
“You know, Angel, when I drop you off somewhere, I like you to be there when I return to fetch you.” He still sounded calm, which might be a bad thing. “I’m gonna ask you again. Where are you?”
I was feeling fairly safe since he obviously hadn’t pinged my GPS. He’d have to go through official ATF channels to do it, and my gut told me he wanted to avoid that at the moment, especially since his bust had gone south. Not that we’d talked about it yet, so I was just guessing. “I’m meeting a client, and I think you should stop being so bossy.”
“I’m not being bossy. You have a stalker, probably, and I’m being safe. What’d be very nice is if you wanted to be safe as well.” Not. So. Mild.
I breathed out. “I am safe. I’ve taken every precaution, I’m armed, and I don’t like you making me feel like I’m helpless or can’t take care of myself.” The words rushed out of me.
Silence ticked for a minute. “I don’t want you to feel helpless,” he finally said quietly. “I’m sorry if I’ve been holding on too tight. It’s just, knowing you might be in danger…not that I have any right to talk, considering my job.”
I swallowed. “We’re still finding our way, Aiden.” If he got any sweeter, I’d just roll over like a puppy. “I should’ve told you I had plans.” Yeah, I’d acted a mite immature. It was a character flaw that I should probably work on in my spare time. “I’m at McQuirk’s meeting a client and then will take Tessa’s rig back to her at the diner. How about we meet there in an hour?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” He ended the call.
I slipped my phone back into my purse. The guy never said goodbye. Was it a thing with him? I forgot all about it as Bernie walked in from the parking lot side, shaking snow off his gray hair in the entryway. He spotted me, waved, and then moved for the counter.
When he joined me at the table, he held what smelled like a pumpkin spiced latte. “It’s good to see you.” He sat.
I took another sip of my rich brew. “Did you know that the Kringle Club was going to inherit all of Lawrence’s guns?”
Bernie’s eyebrows rose. “No. Wow. He had some great shotguns—worth quite a bit.”
I reached in my purse and handed over the list. “Give me an estimate for each, would you?” There were fifteen shotguns or rifles on the list.
“Sure.” He tugged a pen from his front pocket and started making notes.
“Did you know that Lawrence had proposed to Florence?” I asked, watching him carefully.
He paused and looked up, his eyes pained behind his glasses. “No. Did she accept?”
“Yes.”
“I knew that he’d purchased a ring but not that he’d actually popped the question.” Bernie grimaced. “Lawrence and Florence. They sound dumb together.” Then he jolted and crossed himself. “May Lawrence rest in peace.”
The guy seemed like he was telling the truth. “Did you know that Florence inherited millions from Lawrence?” I asked.
Bernie straightened, making his blue bowtie peek over the top of his zippered down jacket. “No. Millions? Lawrence had millions?” He scratched a dark spot on his worn skin by his nose. “I had no idea. He didn’t act rich.”
