Hisses, Hexes, and Homicide (A Purr-fect Relic Cozy Mystery Book 2) by Drake DeAnna

Author:Drake, DeAnna [Drake, DeAnna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Published: 2024-07-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Big Spill

Getting home to Aneksi was the only thing on my mind when I left Janice’s shop, but when I saw Hank Malone gnawing on his lip and watching me through the diner’s window while he took the order of a couple at a chrome-and-laminate table, I remembered I owed him an update.

“Hey, Rebecca,” he said as he handed the order to his cook through the pass-through window then joined me at the lunch counter. “What can I get you?”

I was still full from my tearoom treats, but it seemed rude not to order anything. “An iced tea to go.”

He pulled the order pad from his apron’s front pocket again and scribbled a note. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. But I wanted to let you know what happened with Janice. I think we came up with a solution to your problem.”

“And what’s that?” His jaw clenched like he was bracing for unpleasant news.

“She found a shorter rack that won’t block your window, and she’s promised to use that one.”

“We’ll see.” He grabbed a cup for my iced tea from beneath the counter. “And sorry about losing my temper out there.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know it’s the stress. I’m worried about Luna, too.”

He scooped ice into the cup. “It doesn’t make sense. Nick knows Luna would never do anything to hurt anybody, especially the mayor.”

“He’s probably trying to rule her out, you know, for her own good.” I didn’t know if I entirely believed that, but I wanted to be supportive, for Hank’s sake. “Besides,” I added, “I owe you one.” Honestly, I owed him more than that.

I still winced when I thought of how I’d rummaged through his back room and accused him of murder based on what I had to admit now was pretty flimsy circumstantial evidence. If Nick hadn’t talked Hank out of pressing charges, I could be behind bars right now for that alone.

Hank finished filling my cup with iced tea and set it on the counter. “Yeah, I suppose you do.” His smirk told me he’d at least mostly forgiven me.

“How’s your father doing?” I asked.

“His doctor put him on new medication, and it’s helping. He’s having fewer forgetful spells, and his mood has been better, too. Thanks for asking.”

“He’s lucky to have you looking out for him.”

“I’m just glad he’s still around.” His voice cracked a little, and he whipped around to grab the coffee carafe and darted away to fill the coffee mug of an old-timer reading the sports section at the end of the counter.

He hadn’t left me a bill, and I knew he’d tell me it was on the house if I asked for it, so I dug out my wallet and left money on the counter.

“Rebecca, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

I spun around to find my grandfather sitting in one of the rear high-backed booths. When he waved me over, I noticed he wasn’t alone. He was with Abe Omar, the Richland University archeology professor he occasionally consulted about artifacts of, as he put it, dubious provenance.

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