—Sam Spade,The Maltese Falcon(1930)
13
After the disastrous trip to Kerry Park, nothing more was said about that night. Not about our emotional talk before the man and his bulldogs showed up and not about his Truth or Lie text—or my reply, which he never answered. Our communication breakdown was helped along by the fact that our work shifts didn’t line up the next two nights. I was both relieved and bothered, because it felt like we’d left everything unfinished, and that made my thoughts go in strange directions.
Maybe he regretted what he’d said. Maybe after my reply to his text, he decided none of it mattered and perhaps I wasn’t worth the trouble after all.
Why did that make me feel panicky? Why could I not stop thinking about all of it?
And worrying.
And wishing we could talk more about it.
No way was I bringing any of this up with Grandpa, and later, when I tried getting advice from Aunt Mona, she was no help. She was too busy planning a date with waste-of-space Leon Snodgrass, who had convinced her to let him take her out on theSpirit of Mona. I hated him and his dumb yacht, and I couldn’t understand why she was falling for something so saccharine.
Just when I was starting to go a little crazy about everything, Daniel texted out of the blue to remind me about Darke’s weekly visit to the hotel and proposed that we pick back up on our “case,” as he called it. I was thrilled. We were still partners! I hadn’t driven him away. It was surprising how happy this made me. How relieved I felt.
Daniel and Birdie the couple might be a failure. But Nick and Nora the detective team were still okay.
After a couple of back-and-forths, we decided we would try to stealthily listen in on what happened inside Darke’s room. No bulldogs. No cops.
He suggested we meet up somewhere outside the hotel before work tonight, and we decided the ferry terminal was as good a place as any.
On my way to the Bainbridge ferry terminal, I stopped to buy a warm cinnamon roll from my second-favorite bakery on the island. The woman who came up with the Cinnabon recipe lived here on the island, so it seemed only fair that we had amazing cinnamon rolls. I originally intended to get one for me, but at the last second I found myself thinking of Daniel and asking for two. I carried them like wounded birds nested inside their mini bakery box and headed toward the terminal.
It was only a few minutes before the ferry departed—early-evening rush hour for commuters—and I was cutting it close. If I was going to witness Raymond Darke at his usual Tuesday check-in at seven p.m., this was the last boat I could take. I hurried inside the waiting area, preparing to sprint up the ramp—
Only to stop short.
Standing in front of me was an unexpected sight.
Daniel.
“Hi,” he said, raising a hand.
My heart thudded against my ribs. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“That seems like a trick question.”
“I’m just...”So very confused.“I thought we were meeting at the terminal in the city.”
He squinted one eye closed. “I was bored at home, and I thought I’d see what the ferry ride was like... and I tried to guess which ferry you were taking today, but I was wrong.” He made a funny, self-deprecating face. “So, anyway, I guess I’m idiot because I’ve been stuck here for more than an hour. And I’ve read all the Department of Transportation pamphlets. Did you know six million people ride the ferries here every year?”
“I did not.”
“And there are seals in the marina.”
“The big one is Herbert,” I informed him. “Fletcher Bay has otters.”
He lightly kicked at the glossy floor with the rubber heel of his black Converse low-tops. “I tried texting earlier this afternoon, but you didn’t answer, and that made me afraid you’d changed your mind and weren’t coming into the city early. I came out here to hopefully change your mind, but... I didn’t really know where you lived, exactly, and you haven’t changed your mind, because... here you are.” He laughed nervously. “So clearly this was not well thought out, much like most of my life.”
My heart did a few leaps and jumps. I juggled my bakery box and struggled to retrieve my phone, only to find three unread messages from Daniel. “Crap,” I said. “My ringer was off. I guess I didn’t check it after we first texted about meeting up. I never heard them.”
“Oh, good. I mean, in my head you’d blocked me.”
