“Are we going fishing?”
“No. Well, sort of. If you count baiting for humans fishing, that is.”
He sighed in annoyance. Yes, even over the phone I could tell that Rufus was annoyed. “You’re not getting us into trouble, are you?”
“No. Listen. If Tuney Sluggs declares Crystal’s death an accident, then someone’s going to have to find out the truth.”
“Clementine,” he growled.
I ignored him. “There’s this guy we need to talk to, Pete Swensen. He used to be Crystal’s boyfriend. He might know of someone who was angry with her. Heck,hemight have been angry with her.”
“You’re going whether or not I come with you, aren’t you?”
“Yes. But Malene and the quilting ladies told me that I should take backup.”
“Which means you shouldn’t go to begin with.”
I scoffed. “It means nothing of the sort.”
“Right.” It sounded like he was pulling on a jacket. “Where are you?”
“Downtown. By the library.”
“I’ll be there in five. Don’t move.”
Rufus was true to his word. He appeared a few minutes later looking like he was going spell hunting—leather pants, dark shirt, black jacket. Well, he was either spell hunting or about to perform with a rock band.
When I slid into his car, he said, “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Sort of. Apparently there’s a camper commune down by the river. I’ve never seen it, but it’s also where Leola Vass lives.”
“Ah, good old Leola Vass.” He smiled slyly. “The apple whisperer.”
“You’re practically an apple whisperer, aren’t you?” I teased. “She showed you her secret.”
He glanced over, his eyes full of mischief. “I get the feeling that Leola’s true talent lies exactly where Malene thought—by hiding baskets of apples the day before.”
“Too bad she didn’t get caught.”
“Clementine, I’m surprised by your attitude. Wouldn’t you let an old lady have her spotlight?”
“If truth be known—”
“It should be.”
“I want to ride in the back of Dooley’s truck downtown.”
Rufus laughed. “So that’s it, is it? You’re jealous and think you should be able to ride. Oh, Clem. You surprise me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I took you for someone who didn’t care about things like that.”
Wow. Now I sounded not only petty but spoiled and entitled. “It’s not that I care.”
“Right,” he said, but his voice teased. “I completely understand. You want to be adored by your fans, be able to give a queenly wave to your audience.”
“I hate you so much right now,” I said flatly.
