“Well, he seems to know Oakley, so that’s concerning,” Mabel dismisses Alice.
“We should just call the sheriff.” I hear Alice shuffling around, presumably grabbing her phone.
The bell above the door rings again, and Arlo walks into the unsuspecting barrage that is Alice and Mabel.
“We were just about to call you. Oakley is in the back with that man we were telling you about.” The overdramatic concern in Mabel’s voice almost does me in.
“The man you think is an assassin,” Arlo deadpans.
“The very same!”
I bite my lip so hard I’m shocked I don’t draw blood. These two will make anything front-page news, I swear.
“And he knew Oakley, so maybe they’re both assassins.”
The women talk over each other and my laughter bursts from my chest, unable to keep a lid on my amusement.
“Willow Marie, I know you are not laughing at your elders,” Mabel scolds, and I turn to face her.
“I would never.” I place my hand over my chest in faux indignation. “I was just laughing at something Rina texted me.” I look up at Arlo and see the side of his lips tipped up in a smirk.
I arch one eyebrow, daring him to call me out, but he wisely refrains. We’ve known each other since we were little kids. With him and Rina being friends for most of my younger years, he acts more like a big brother than Ledger does some days.
“I’ll talk to Oakley when he comes out,” he offers the tall tale committee before walking to the counter to order his coffee.
“Miss Willow, will you make sure the sheriff talks with Oakley? We’ve got to get to the Bluebell Center for bingo.”
“I absolutely will.” I smile.
Watching them as they walk out the door, still huddled together, chatting about a possible killer in our midst, pulls at the tendrils of a storyline but nothing sticks.
“You really shouldn’t encourage them,” Arlo says as he sits in the other chair at my table.
“But it’s just so much fun. Who could blame me?”
“So, what’s this situation really about?” he asks before he takes a sip of coffee.
“Not sure. A new guy came in, and Oakley appeared to know him. Took him around the back, and that’s all I know.”
“I swear, sometimes I wish there was real crime here instead of this made-up bullshit.”
“You’ll be eating your words on that one, I’m sure. They do make for some great material for my books, though.”
“When’s the new one coming out?” he asks.
“If I can get my ass back on track, it should be out in four months.”
“Well, I look forward to it.”
Oakley and the new guy emerge from the back office, drawing Arlo’s attention.
“That’s my cue. Good to see you, Willow.”
“You too, Sheriff.” It’s still weird calling him “Sheriff” because I’ve known him since I was a little kid, but he does a damn good job dealing with the made-up drama this town naturally produces.
I observe the interaction as I finish my coffee, watching their body language to gauge any information I can.
The only thing I can tell for certain is that whatever Oakley said to the sheriff has him interested.
