Hurley’s eyes shoot darts into Nelson’s back. “I think I understand now why you don’t like him,” he mutters. “He’s a smug bastard.”
“That he is,” I concur, wishing Hurley would shift his attention from Nelson back to me. Some of those delicious tingly feelings he triggered in me are still circulating. But Nelson has successfully killed the mood.
As soon as Nelson disappears into the building, Hurley finally turns to look at me. “It makes me want to try to get a search warrant for his office, just to teach him a lesson. But there’s no cause.”
I frown, realizing that what he says is right but not liking it.
“You okay to get home on your own?” he says.
My hopes sink faster than William did after seeing Ethan’s cockroach. I nod reluctantly, angrier than ever with Nelson. I desperately want to make him pay.
“Drive carefully,” Hurley says. He stands there looking at me and I realize he’s waiting for me to get into my car. I turn and open the door, wishing I could come up with some way to make the evening last a little longer. But the moment is gone, utterly and sadly irretrievable.
As soon as I settle in on the front seat, Hurley says, “See you soon,” and then he’s gone.
I stick my key in the ignition and turn it. The engine starts up without a hitch, purring contentedly. And as I back the hearse out of the parking lot, I find myself wishing Luke Nelson was riding in the back the way most of the prior passengers did.
Chapter 34
My night is filled with dreams about Hurley, some of them erotic, most of them just warm and cuddly. It’s one of the latter that’s interrupted when my alarm goes off. I groan as I roll over and hit the snooze button, praying that I can fall back to sleep and pick the dream up where it left off, but it’s not to be. Nine minutes later the alarm goes off again, and after slapping it irritably, I drag my butt out of bed.
After taking care of my morning ablutions, I head over to Izzy’s house and knock on the back door. Dom answers moments later.
“Good morning!” he says cheerfully. “You’re just in time for breakfast. I made blueberry pancakes.”
Dom’s blueberry pancakes are orgasmic and I figure they might be just the medicine I need to quit mourning my lack of Hurley. I follow Dom into the kitchen—a bright, cheery room with east-facing windows that take full advantage of the morning sun—and find Izzy seated at the table with a cup of coffee and the morning paper.
“Good morning,” I say, slipping into my usual chair. The smell of the pancakes has me practically drooling.
Izzy sets his paper aside and stares at me.
“What?” I say, knowing he’s seeing something but not sure what it is.
“You have something to tell me?”
I shrug. “I don’t think so.”
He stares a little longer, his eyes narrowing into slits. Curious, Dom turns from the stove and starts staring at me too. “I think you’re right, Izzy. Something is different.”
I look back and forth between the two of them, my expression rife with skepticism. “You guys are nuts,” I say dismissively.
“No, no, I can see it,” Dom says. He turns back to the stove, scoops a stack of pancakes onto a plate, and then walks over to me. “Spill it or I won’t let you have any,” he says, waving the plate under my nose.
Thumbscrews and Chinese water tortures have nothing over the aroma of warm, juicy blueberries stuffed into fat, fluffy pancakes. I cave in a half second flat.
“Okay, Hurley and I met at the Nowhere for drinks last night and afterward we made out in the parking lot.”
Dom scoops three pancakes off the top of the stack and plops them on my plate. The next two go to Izzy. Dom takes the last one for himself and settles in beside me. “Do tell,” he says. “Was this a date?”
I cut a pat of butter from the stick on the table and start painting my pancakes with it. “Not really,” I say. “Turns out he wanted to tell me they’d found Erik’s gun.”
Izzy asks, “Where?”
“It was under some sheets in a linen closet in the radiology department at the hospital.”
Izzy grimaces and gives me a sympathetic look.
“I know, I know,” I say with a sigh. “It doesn’t look good for Erik. But until the ballistics report comes in, I’m not convinced.”
“All right, enough,” Dom interjects. “Quit talking shop and let’s get back to the making out part.”
Now that my pancakes are thoroughly coated in melted butter, I grab the warm syrup Dom has on the table and bathe my stack with it. “We had a couple of beers and played some darts,” I tell them. “Then, when we left, he walked me to my car.”
“Wait, you have a car?” Izzy says. “Did you actually buy something?”
“Not officially, but I’m thinking I will. Bobby Keegan is letting me test drive it for a day or two to help me decide.”
“Is it something reliable?” Izzy asks. Dom gives him an exasperated look. I know Dom could care less about the car; he wants the smooch scoop.
“It seems to be,” I tell Izzy. “But it has . . . other issues.”
Izzy frowns and I take advantage of the moment to have my first bite of pancake. As I chew, the flavors of maple, pancake, and blueberries start a small orgy in my mouth.
“Get to the kissing stuff,” Dom says, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Was it good? Did he use tongue? Did you share any, um, friction?” The expression on his face is devilishly delighted.
I smile enigmatically and wiggle my eyebrows at him. “You could say there was some friction, but we were interrupted before things could get too heated.”
“Interrupted how?” Dom asks.
“That shrink, Luke Nelson, was there. He looked pretty smug at finding the two of us in a clutch and made some innuendos about how our pairing up might be a conflict of interest.”
Izzy frowns at that. “That’s ludicrous. Besides, what difference would it make to him? Didn’t Hurley say Nelson had been cleared with regard to Shannon’s death? As I recall, his alibi was pretty solid.”
“It is,” I admit. “But there’s something about that guy that bothers me. I can’t put my finger on it but I get the distinct feeling he’s hiding something.”
“Well, he is. Or was,” Izzy says. “He had all those women he was stringing along.”
I nod thoughtfully, enjoying a few more bites of breakfast heaven before I speak again. “I’d like to talk to one of the patients Nelson saw the day of Shannon’s death, Carla Andrusson. She’s my dentist’s wife and I’ve socialized with her a few times in years past when David and I attended some parties. I plan on going into the office first thing this morning, but do you think it would be okay if I took a little time away later today to do that?”
Izzy shrugs. “If there aren’t any autopsies pending, I don’t see why not. But what do you hope to accomplish? Hasn’t Hurley already verified all the appointments?”
“He did. But I just can’t let go of this nagging feeling I have that something is off. Maybe it’s just my dislike of the guy, but I want to look into it.”
Izzy stares at me with a worried expression and shakes his head. I know he wants to say something but I refuse to take his bait. We both go back to eating and the room is utterly silent for a few minutes other than the noise of forks scraping against plates. As I stab the last bite of my pancakes and let them melt in my mouth, I have to resist the urge to run my fingers around my plate so I can snag the remaining few crumbs. “Dom,” I say, once I have swallowed and dropped my fork onto the empty plate with a clatter, “that was heavenly.”