Ian nodded. “I guess I know where we’re going next.”
CHAPTER 5
Iwas already studying my phone by the time Ian pulled out of the Lodge’s driveway. “Redhawk Security,” I announced, scrolling with my thumb. “Modern, sleek, polished. They’ve got the kind of website that makes you think they’ve never once had a typo.”
Ian’s eyes stayed on the road. “And that’s suspicious?”
“Of course it is.” I tapped the glowing screen. “Look at this—sharp logo, all glossy hawk wings and bold lettering. Click here and you get glowing testimonials. Click there and you get smiling men in pressed polos holding tool bags. Not a hair out of place.”
His mouth curved faintly. “Sounds like a professional company.”
“Too professional,” I said, leaning closer to the screen. “I like a few rough edges. It means they’re real people. These folks look like they’d wipe down a screwdriver with disinfectant before using it. Makes me wonder if one of their techs decided to try out his hacking skills on the job.”
“Or someone at the bank knew enough about it to disable it,” Ian suggested.
“Exactly.” I set the phone in my lap, satisfied. “Which means we need to know if a Redhawk van showed up recently at the bank for ‘maintenance.’ And since Marie thinks the sun rises and sets on you…”
He cut me a sidelong look, amusement sparking in his eyes. “Pepper, are you jealous of Marie?”
I gasped in mock outrage. “Absolutely not. Why would I be jealous of Marie when I’ve already got front-row seats to all this?” I waved a hand toward him, jeans and tee stretched just right across his impressive chest and shoulders.
That earned me his slow grin, the kind that had probably sold thousands of romance books. “Good answer.”
“Don’t get cocky,” I said, though I couldn’t help smiling too. “There are plenty of fish in the sea.”
He laughed, deep and easy, the sound filling the car. “Your fishing days are over.”
“I agree,” I said, my smile spreading. “The one I caught is a winner and I won’t be throwing him back.”
“Glad to hear that, Pep,” he said as he turned down a side street off Main, Birds’ View Nest B&B coming into sight.
The three-story Victorian-style house was as neat as a pin, flower boxes spilling over with color, a painted sign swinging lightly in the summer breeze, wood rocking chairs on the porch that ran the length of the front of the house, and small tables beside them.
Before Ian had even parked, Madge Newell came bustling out onto the porch, apron dusted with flour, cheeks flushed from the kitchen.
“Pepper! Ian!” she called out, hands raised as if she’d been waiting just for us. “Come in. Come in out of the heat!”
We barely had time to exchange a glance before she ushered us through the door and into the cozy sitting room. Lace curtains framed the windows, floral, overstuffed chairs were grouped for chatting, and the faint smell of cinnamon muffins lingered in the air.
“I suppose this is about what I said at the diner,” Madge began, smoothing her apron as she perched on a petite point, seat covered, wood chair. “Now, I don’t gossip, but Lara—” She shook her head. “She repeats everything someone tells her.”
I smiled sweetly, knowing Lara could share a tale or two but held her tongue if you asked her to.
“Of course, Madge. You don’t gossip. You share information of civic importance.”
Ian coughed into his hand to hide his laugh.
Madge beamed. “Exactly!” She leaned forward, eyes shining. “And I have information about two men. Strangers stalking the bank. One had a mustache so thick he could’ve twirled it like a villain in those old Westerns. The kind who tied ladies to train tracks.”
Ian’s lips twitched at the old, silent movie reference.
“The other was tall, thin as a broom handle, baseball cap, no marking on it, pulled low, eyes darting everywhere. The type that makes you want to count the silverware when he walks past. They were standing across from the bank, watching.”
“Watching how?” I asked.
“Not like window-shoppers, like hawks,” she said, shivering for effect. “Like they were memorizing the place. Who went in, who came out, how long people stayed. And then the tall one goes inside, walks around like he’s on a sightseeing tour, and comes right back out without seeing to any bank business.” She sniffed. “Of course, Ben says I make too much out of things. That man snores so loud he couldn’t hear a marching band. Did I tell you last week a guest complained their room shook? It wasn’t the old plumbing. It was Ben.”
Ian coughed again, a laugh disguised poorly.
