Murder on the Mountain by Nicole Gardner

Author:Nicole Gardner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hawthorn Hill Books

Chapter Twenty-Two

Emerson

Greg was already nursing a pint of Guinness when I got to O’Malley’s. I signaled to the waitress to bring me one too and slid into the booth across from him.

“You’re late,” Greg complained.

I glanced at my watch. “Dude. Fifteen minutes.”

“Late is late.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry. I forgot you’re an old man now. Did I make you miss the senior citizen special?”

Greg just flipped me off and grinned.

“You’re in a good mood,” he commented.

“Yeah.” I smiled, and for the first time in a while, it felt easy.

“I don’t guess it’s a certain woman who’s putting that smile on your face?” He smirked, then lifted his beer in salute.

I grinned. “Yes, as a matter of fact. But not the woman you’re thinking of.” Fiona got all the credit as far as I was concerned, but I wasn’t about to admit to him I was drinking one of her miracle teas. Or that it was actually working. The grief was easing somehow. I didn’t really believe it was because of a plant. Probably some sort of placebo effect. She told me it would help, my mind wanted to believe it, so it was creating feelings of relief. Or something like that. But placebo or not, I was feeling better. And I was grateful to Fiona for that.

“You haven’t met someone else, have you? I didn’t think you were the kind of guy to move on so quickly.” His eyes narrowed.

“Of course not. It’s not like that.” I waved him off. “Look, can we talk about something other than my improved mood?”

“Sure.” He grinned again.

The waitress placed my beer in front of me, and I took an appreciative sip.

Greg’s phone buzzed. He picked it up to read the incoming text, then groaned.

“What is it?”

He slid the phone across the table for me to read.

“Your girlfriend—sorry, ex-girlfriend—is going to be the death of me,” he muttered under his breath.

I read the message from Daphne and my good mood vanished.

“So you’re just letting her have dinner with potential murder suspects now, to see if they have an alibi? Why not swear her in as a deputy? Give her a gun. I’m sure that won’t end badly.” My voice came out in a growl. “Who cares that she hasn’t had any training whatsoever? She’s a full-blown detective now, right?”

I drained half the beer, then sat the mug down on the table with more force than strictly necessary.

“I’m not ‘letting’ her do anything, Emerson. This is the first I’m hearing about any of this. And what do you expect me to do? Stop a private citizen from having dinner with another private citizen, in another state, 500 miles away?”

Yes.

He started typing on his phone, a frown on his face.

“What are you telling her?”

“To stay home and leave the investigation to us,” he muttered. “And I’m contacting Detective Ford to see if he knows anything about this Steve Wallace.”

I told myself to stay out of it. But I immediately ignored that and picked up my own phone.

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