“He’s too sweet.” She wanted to find amusement or even pleasure in the fact that she had gotten the city lawyer into the country to feed him a plain old ham sandwich. But the man seemed to be enjoying the simple meal, and he appeared more relaxed than he had the last several times she’d seen him.
Her abdomen warmed and instinct whispered down her back, the same feeling of excitement she felt when she found a new gadget without any directions.
Dread soon followed.
Chapter Five
As Scott stepped through the doors of the Rapid Water Diner behind Millie, warm, buttery air scented with fried bacon and freshly brewed coffee blasted him. Even though he’d eaten a sandwich only an hour before, his stomach rumbled.
She waved at a gray-haired woman behind the counter and walked to the right, past the vintage cream-colored booths, to one in the back. “June said she’d meet us here for a late lunch.”
He gently reached for Millie’s arm to make sure she slid into the booth first so he could put his back to the wall, and his gaze to the door. He instinctively clocked every entrance and exit out of habit in case they needed to leave quickly. The cozy place highlighted picture upon picture of fish on the walls. All different-size trout, sturgeon, and bottom feeders. No doubt they had all been caught in the nearby river. Some of the photographs had faded with age, and some appeared brand-new. Black frames surrounded each photograph.
He glanced at the other patrons, scouring for any sort of threat. An older couple sat in the booth down the way, and a lone writer scribbled in a notebook on a light pink bar stool in front of the counter.
The older woman bustled around the counter and delivered two sweating plastic glasses of water. “Millie, I’m so sorry about Clay. But he was a bonehead who deserved it.” She leaned in, her eyes wide behind bottle-thick glasses. “I called the chief and said you stayed most of the night at my house.”
Millie sighed. “Betty, that’s so sweet, but we shouldn’t lie to the chief.”
Betty straightened her lemon-yellow uniform and patted Millie on the shoulder. “If necessary, Bob, Mart, Joshi, and I will tell the chief we stabbed Clay. They can’t convict us all.” She turned and sashayed behind the counter to wipe it down.
Scott just looked at Millie.
She shrugged. “Small town. I’ve been jury-rigging everything from air conditioning units to CPAP machines for folks my entire life.”
“Who are Bob, Mart, and Joshi?”
“Two cooks and a handyman.” She grinned. “They would confess, I’m afraid.”
He had to stop this nonsense in its tracks. “Betty?”
Betty tossed the dishrag on the counter and brought a water pitcher over, even though their glasses remained full. “Hi,” she whispered. “Should I confess?”
“No,” Scott said firmly. “In addition, would you please spread the word that everyone just needs to tell the truth? It’ll make it easier for the chief to find the actual killer.”
Betty patted Millie’s shoulder again. “Nobody would blame you if you had stabbed him, honey. That jerk kind of deserved it, right?”
Millie winced. “I didn’t stab him.”
“That’s good. You keep saying that.” Betty nodded vigorously, sending her short gray hair spiraling. “You never want to confess. It’s good you have yourself a hotshot lawyer.” She winked at Scott.
Was heat climbing into his face? “I’ll do my best,” he said.
“Good boy.” She turned and hustled around the counter to refill the coffee carafe.
“Hey there.” A younger woman bustled up with a spot of ice cream on her yellow uniform, her badge declaring her to be June. “You guys want anything to eat before I sit down?”
“Coffee?” Scott asked.
Millie shook her head. “No caffeine for me. How about a 7UP?”
“Great.” June moved away.
Scott watched her go. She stood to about six feet tall with bright red hair and a smattering of freckles across her face with mellow brown eyes. She and Millie couldn’t look more different. “How long have you known June?”
“For years,” Millie said. “We’ve been best friends from the day I moved in with Aunt Mae. Her parents own the diner, and I think she’s going to take it over from them. You’ll like her, Scott.”
“I’m sure.” He couldn’t imagine not liking a friend of Millie’s. Well, except her brother. The jury was out on that one.
