“Whatever. It’s cool.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Finn. Can you promise me that?”
“Fine. I promise,” he grumbles and presses the red End button. His shoulders slump with disappointment. A jay caws outside his window. He needs to get out of here, aboveground, breathe some fresh air. Ellis told him she’d be working. He could walk over there now, grab a bite to eat. He is starving,he realizes, and sitting in his basement apartment stewing over Autumn is making him depressed.
He shoves his phone into his back pocket and takes the stairs two at a time, entering the kitchen to see Paula carrying a bowl toward the back patio.
“Hungry? Join me in an early supper? Or is it a late lunch?”
He peers at the bowl she’s carrying.
“Either way, I made a watermelon-and-feta salad. With fresh mint from the garden.”
He is about to decline but then stops himself. The food looks delicious. He grabs a plate and follows her out to the back patio, into the afternoon humidity.
“No work today?” she asks as she doles out some of the salad onto his plate.
“I’m working Saturday instead. I had a thing this morning.”
“Lemonade?” she asks and then pours two tall glasses before he even responds. “Was your thing successful?”
He smiles. “You’re good, you know. At getting people to talk.”
“Thank you.” She unfolds a napkin and puts it in her lap. “It came in handy in my line of work. Bon appétit.”
“I tracked down Tori Price this morning and went to see her. Caren Costa and I did, actually.”
“Now that is interesting. What did she have to say?”
“You won’t believe it, but she was having an affair with Van Allard.”
“Not Eastbrook’s own golden boy! Scandalous.” Paula spears a watermelon chunk with her fork.
“It is, right? I mean, she’s a licensed therapist. He’s a teenager.”
“She’s practically twice his age. I bet Jo was furious when she found out.”
“Tori said she tried to break it off with him, and he became violent.”
Paula drops her fork with a clank. “How violent?”
Finn shrugs. “She strongly implied that he was the one who killed Autumn.”
“Well, well. And this little conversation, I presume, is why that detective was yelling at you?”
“You heard that, huh? Eavesdrop much?”
“That’s an ugly word. What did he want?”
“He wants me to stay out of it. Don’t interfere. That kind of thing.”
“What you call ‘that kind of thing’ sounds like good advice to me,” Paula says.
Finn tries not to roll his eyes.
“Fine,” Paula says. “What about Yumi—did she offer any insight? Did the lemon pound cake help? I thought it might put her at ease.”
“It did help, actually. Thanks. She filled in a few gaps.”
