Muddy Waters by Ellis Quinn

Author:Ellis Quinn [Quinn, Ellis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-17T16:00:00+00:00

MINUTES LATER

Pete’s cute son was tickled to have the cocoa presented to him, but looked to his father for permission first.

He said, “Dad, can I?”

Pete still looked haggard, but in the light of day he didn’t seem so bewildered. It must’ve been a bad night for him, and she shouldn’t judge his character by one strange roadside interaction.

Something about the way he cocked his head, then put his hand on his little man’s shoulder seemed familiar.

“You sure can,” Pete said to his son. “Make sure you thank Ms. Whaley here.”

The little boy put forward both hands, his brown eyes wide and innocent. He wore a Chesapeake Cove ball cap, and his little round ears stuck out on either side like silver dollars. He had cute trembling lips, and again she couldn’t deny a certain familiarity. She said to the boy, “You can call me Bette.”

Pete patted his son on the back and said, “Bette here is the woman who I told you helped me home last night.”

The little boy said, “I didn’t know where you went.”

“Neither did your father,” she said, chuckling and trying to keep it light. This boy’s mother’s death seemed—just like Pete had told her last night—to not yet have registered. Like the little boy was too young to comprehend the permanency of someone you loved leaving this mortal coil. Something about the boy’s loss profoundly angered her. This little kid had been robbed. Robbed in very much the same way that a ten-year-old Bette Whaley had been robbed. Only for her it had sunk in very quickly. This little boy was afforded the innocent grace of incomprehension. “What’s your name?” she asked him.

Pete patted his son’s back again, and Pete and his son said at the same time, “Drew.”

“Good to meet you, Drew,” she said, and shook his small hand.

Pete helped Drew peel back the tab on the plastic lid of the hot cocoa, leaned close and pursed his lips to blow cool air, making a hollow, ghostly sound within the cup. The little boy watched her still, and she met his gaze. He said at last, “You have that doggy.”

“I do have a doggy,” she said.

Pete glanced at Drew, puzzled by what his son meant. Drew looked to his father and said, “She had the crab dog.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he said, frowning now and looking up at Bette. “Buster Crab, was it?”

“That’s his name,” she said, her frown deepening as her memory Rolodex flickered until landing on a sheet with the appropriate information. She said, “Oh, I met you just the other day at the café.” And that was his wife with him, too, so she had met the second murdered woman. And Julie was there that day, as well. Could it be possible they had another serial killer in town working out of The Steaming Bean?

Pete said, “And where is Buster Crab now?”

She said, “He’s very busy. Being the mascot of the parade comes with many responsibilities. I think he’s down at the town hall prepping the majorettes for the parade.

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