“I am—on Thursday. Unless we can figure out who really killed Clay,” Millie said.
Valerie slipped an arm over Millie’s shoulders. “Everybody who knows you, knows you didn’t kill Clay.”
“Yeah, but Rupert Skinner thinks I did. Or at least he wants justice for Clay because they were old friends. But who knows? The chief has some videotape from that night. Maybe there’s something on it.” It was highly doubtful, however. Everybody took that same road and she couldn’t imagine anybody driving by with a murder weapon right on their dash.
Alex wrinkled his nose. “Skinner was an idiot as a kid and apparently hasn’t changed any.” His chest filled. “I can say you stayed with us that night.”
“No.” Millie held up a hand. “No more alibis. The chief is losing patience.”
“Fair enough.” Alex looked at his watch. “Hey, we have to get going.” He leaned down and kissed Millie on the top of the head. “I had fun today. Thanks a lot.”
“You bet. You up for another run tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be here at the same time.” He turned and hurried toward Valerie’s vehicle. “Come on, Aunt Valerie,” he called back. “You can watch tryouts as well.”
“Oh, goody,” Valerie whispered under her breath, sliding a smile toward Millie. “He has no clue. I’m dropping him off and heading home.”
Millie laughed.
Valerie walked toward her car and looked over her shoulder. “Get going on those British twins, will ya? I just changed my mind. I am so bored.”
“Absolutely.” There was nothing Millie liked more than matchmaking. Except inventing. “Hey. Just a sec.” She dodged into the house and ran back out with a gray knit hat in her hands. “Alex,” she called out.
He half leaned out of the car. “What?”
“Tryouts are outside, aren’t they?”
“Of course they’re outside. It’s baseball.” His grin made him look years younger.
She tossed him the hat.
He scrutinized it. “Thanks?”
“You bet. It’s activated by wetness, so if it starts to rain, there’s a miniature umbrella that’ll pop out the top and cover your head.” She clapped her hands. “Let me know how it works, will you? I’m applying for a patent, probably next month.”
“You’ve got it. If this thing strangles me, I’m suing, though.”
She laughed. “That’s fair.” She turned as the other men strode up from the boat area.
Wolfe grinned. “Aren’t we having enchiladas?”
* * * *
They finished a late dinner close to ten, and Scott wished fleetingly that his mother could be there to enjoy the fun. The team had assembled and all reported back on their activities. Ian and Oliver had spoken with the other potential rape victim from Clay Baker’s college days, a Bobbi Jones, and her story sounded similar to Wilma’s. She couldn’t remember anything even though she had awakened in Clay Baker’s bed.
His roommates had sworn along with him that they’d taken shots of tequila all night, and she couldn’t remember whether she had or not, so she dropped the case. Now a successful accountant, the woman apparently had found a good life. She didn’t seem sorry about Clay’s death, however.
Unfortunately, Glen Baker hadn’t been home on the twins’ way through Richmond, so Scott needed to track down the final Baker brother on his own.
Clay Baker was being laid to rest this coming Sunday, and Scott wanted to attend the funeral to see the mourners. He had resolved not to let Millie go. The threat level for her remained too elevated. “Dinner was wonderful,” he said to Millie’s great-aunt.
She laughed and waved a fragile hand in the air. “Oh, you’re such a sweetheart, Scott.”
Wolfe rolled his eyes.
Mae removed an apron from a drawer to pull over her head. “I’ll clean up. You kids go work on your case.”
Scott caught sight of the pattern on the front of the apron at about the same time as everyone else. Millie gasped and the room fell silent.
