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“What’s that?”
“Would your aunt happen to have a yearbook handy? From, say, your mother’s sophomore year?”
“Yeah. I guess. My grandparents had some old stuff stored away. Why? They have copies of yearbooks at the library.”
“I know. That particular year is missing.”
With a huff, I glance around the bar one more time. “Sure, I can look in the storage stuff in the attic.”
“Would you like me to drive you there?”
Makaio would probably go ballistic, if he saw the two of us leaving the bar and getting into his car.
“No, it’s not that far. I’ll run home, and I can be back here before dark.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind offering a ride.”
If Nell’s fate was sealed by having been caught hanging around a private investigator, I sure as hell don’t want to be caught hanging around said investigator.
“No, I won’t be long. Can I ask what you’re looking for?”
“Any pictures your mother is in.”
I frown at that, my suspicions slowly creeping back in. “What does she have to do with your investigation?”
“She doesn’t have anything to do with Schadenfreude, so far as I know. But she does have something to do with what’s in this envelope,” he says, holding it up again like a dangling carrot to a starving rabbit.
“Okay. I’ll be back.” I slide out of the booth and am greeted by the look of confusion on Aunt Midge’s face, as I pass the bar toward the back entrance, so Makaio won’t see me leave. “Gotta grab something from home real quick.”
“Like home-home? Or castle home?”
“Home-home.”
“Why you going out the back door?”
“Cutting through the alley.”
“You’re walking home?”
“Yeah. It’ll just take a few minutes.”
“Hey, Mac, any chance you can give Isa a ride to the house and back?”
Before he can answer, I shake my head. “He’s been drinking. Look, I don’t get out much these days. It’ll be nice to walk. Haven’t jogged in almost two months. I need the fresh, sea air. Kinda stuffy in a castle, you know?”
Arms crossed, she sighs. “Be back before dark, okay? That girl may have just overdosed, but that crap makes me paranoid as all get out.”
She has no idea. “I promise.”
* * *
It takes a half hour to walk from uptown to my neighborhood. The early morning strolls along the boardwalk, with the warm salty air, is something I’ve missed since taking the job at Blackthorne. Dead body aside, Tempest is a relatively safe island, overall. Murders happen, but rarely, and when they do, it’s all over the place, which results in more eyes watching.
Probably should’ve told Aunt Midge what I’m doing, seeing as I hate lying to the woman, but she’s like an endless vacuum of worry. Besides, I need the time to process everything. Between Giulia and Mr. Goodman, my head is spinning like a hurricane. Snippets of conversation stand out like a word cloud, but none of it makes sense to me.
You don’t trust Lucian?
He has asked me for things. To cut him.
