Apple of My Eye (Tiger's Eye Mystery #7) - Alyssa Day Page 0,38

Nash and the peppermints.

He leaned back in his chair and gave me a skeptical look. "Nash? The pastor?"

"Quiet," I hissed.

He lowered his voice to a murmur. "Tess, lots of people like peppermint candy. Trust me, as someone who hates the smell, I am well aware. I can't really see Pastor Nash hanging out in your back yard, let alone cutting body parts off people."

I sighed. "I know, it sounds absurd. But then I was thinking about the nuns—"

"What nuns?"

I explained about the horror movie nuns.

Jack's grin broadened. "I think we're safe from possessed nuns, Tess."

When he said it like that, sure.

"But we should at least check him out. The real culprit is usually the last person you'd expect it to be," I told him, just before Lorraine returned with our glasses of water and lemonade.

Jack mouthed the word culprit at me, and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh, but I ignored him. You never knew about a person. Until I had proof that Pastor Nash was not involved, he was staying on my list.

"Special is double cheeseburgers with fries or onion rings," Lorraine said. "How many do you want?"

This was directed at Jack.

"Three with fries, two with onion rings," he said. "I only had a donut or two for breakfast."

"Or twelve, probably," I muttered. "Lorraine, I'll have a salad. Too many donuts lately. My jeans are getting tight."

"Not that I could tell," Jack said with a lazy grin.

My face heated up again, and Lorraine laughed.

"You will not have a salad, all we have is day-old iceberg lettuce. I'll throw an extra pickle on your burger, and you can consider that to be a vegetable. Fries or onion rings?"

I sighed. "Fries. Thanks, Lorraine. Oh, by the way, I hear you're going to goat yoga with me and Eleanor this evening."

She grinned at me. "Yep. You know me. I love watching those goats do yoga."

After she'd left to take our orders to the kitchen, Jack tapped his long fingers on the table. "Whatever you're up to, it has nothing to do with goats or yoga, does it?"

I have a teensy problem. I can't lie worth a darn. Everything shows up on my face. I'd be a lousy poker player.

So I changed the subject. "I had a really wonderful time last night, Jack. I still can hardly believe you took me to Atlantis. And Ven and Erin were great. It was so much fun. I can't wait to tell Molly. And Aunt Ruby. And Uncle Mike. And Eleanor. And…"

He reached out and took my hand. "We could just put a notice in the Dead End Gazette."

"I know you're teasing me, but my first time out of the country and it's to Atlantis. It was like a dream."

His grin faded and his eyes warmed. "I felt that way too. Tess—"

"Six specials," Lorraine announced. "And four milkshakes."

She and the new waitress—one of Susan's cousins, maybe?—unloaded the food, leaving our table completely covered with plates and glasses.

"Thanks, Lorraine," Jack said. "You're a peach."

"I know," she said airily.

We ate in silence for a while—Beau's burgers deserve all of a person's attention—and then Jack finished off his second burger and wiped his mouth.

"Tess, I got a call on the way here from Dallas. He was looking into the Brigham Hammermill the Fourth thing, and he found something funny."

"Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?"

"Funny peculiar."

Jack's friends—now my friends too—Dallas and Austin Fox were two ex-Special Forces guys who lived out on the edge of the swamp with Lucky. I called them the swamp commandos. They'd liked the name enough that they'd named their new business Swamp Commando Airboat Rides.

Dallas and Austin were also computer geniuses.

"Peculiar how?"

Jack nodded. "Apparently there has been some almost untraceable activity on some accounts that are tangentially related to Hammermill's. Which shouldn't be happening unless one of two things are true. Either he had business associates who are raiding his accounts now that he's gone—"

"Or he's not really dead," I said.

"Or he's not really dead."

"Wow. The plot thickens."

"I don't think you can say things like 'the plot thickens' unless you're a character in an Agatha Christie novel," Jack said.

"Tough. Wow. So what now?"

"I'm not sure it's anything, but after our conversation with the sheriff this morning, I conveyed the news. Since Dead End doesn't have access to computer specialists with Dallas's skills, she asked me to investigate and let her know, which we plan to do." He started on his third burger.

"What if he faked his own death to avoid all his