Hush Money by T. E. Woods

Author:T. E. Woods
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2017-08-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

NOW

Sydney glanced at the clock in her darkened bedroom. 6:22.

Why am I awake?

She snuggled back down into her covers and willed herself to sleep, but images of the night before flashed through her memory. Hush Money’s tables had been filled with festive diners. She’d been surprised at how little discussion she overheard about the mayor’s funeral. Her crew had operations well in hand and Sydney had spent most of the night at the Ten-Ten.

Horst is better at this than I am. I wanted so much to talk about Windy’s case. But he kept to his guideline that our conversations steer clear of that. I couldn’t ask him about the 911 call.

Instead Horst had kept their talk focused on music, food, and their mutual plans for the summer. Anyone overhearing their conversation would have thought they were exactly what they were: lifelong friends as dear as family. No one would have guessed they were currently on opposite sides of a murder investigation.

I don’t want to choose sides. I just want Windy safe.

Sydney took a deep breath and tried to shift her thoughts. She’d left the Ten-Ten and gone to Clay’s place a little before midnight. The room had been packed. Every blues fan in a hundred-mile radius had been crammed in, wanting to hear the great Slingshot Billy. Clay had saved a spot for her at the corner of the bar. She’d settled in and listened to Slingshot’s blues for nearly an hour, loving that she felt so comfortable in that space. Clay hadn’t had much time to spend with her. He’d asked her to stay until they closed. The look in his eyes when he promised to walk her home had suggested he’d have plenty of time for her after that. But after one glass of wine, the day’s events had pulled at her, urging her to call a cab, get to bed, and sleep till noon.

So why am I awake?

She focused on her toes, willing them to become heavy and relaxed. Then she moved to her calves, her thighs, her hips, and her belly. She tried to envision each body part growing heavier and heavier, pulling her deep into sleep.

It didn’t work.

She glanced again at the clock. 6:37.

Sydney flung the covers back and sat up. She went to her bathroom and emerged ten minutes later, teeth brushed, hair pulled into a runner’s knot, and wearing her workout clothes. By eight o’clock she was sitting at her kitchen counter, a two-mile run behind her and finishing her bagel, orange juice, and coffee.

Maybe Nancy and Joe are finally rubbing off on me. Not so bad, this early-morning stuff.

Her phone warbled. She didn’t recognize the number on the screen.

“Hello.”

“Sydney? This is Windy. Windy Fields. Am I calling too early? I’m sorry if I am.”

Sydney assured her she was fine. “What’s up?”

“I’m supposed to be at Hush Money by ten. Chef Roland’s going to help me some more with my knife skills.”

“He told me you’re doing a wonderful job.”

“Chef’s been very nice. You gotta get past his bluster, I guess.

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