appeared on the stoop wiping his feet on the mat.
Behind him stood Zeb, who shuffled his feet doing the same thing.
Lando sniffed the air as he began removing his jacket. “Hey, Lianne, how’s it going?” he asked before leaning in to peck his wife on the cheek. “Are you staying for dinner?”
“Looks like,” Lianne returned. “How’s it going, Zeb?”
“Good. You?”
Lianne sputtered with laughter. “Oh, I don’t know it could be better.”
Zeb’s face split with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I should’ve thought before I asked.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not complaining. I hope you guys won’t start treating me any different than when Luke and I were together.”
“Absolutely. No problem. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just one of the guys like usual.”
“Good,” Lianne noted as she felt Gemma tug her into the kitchen.
“Okay, spill it. Please tell me you aren’t here to announce that you’re leaving Coyote Wells?”
“What? No. I’m here to ask if you’d let me spend the night, just until the Oregon authorities pick Kirk up and take him back to Portland. Staying by myself, I feel on edge. Every little sound scares me.”
Gemma frowned. “But you said you were okay.”
“I lied. Every time I close my eyes, I see Kirk’s face peering into my bedroom window. I know it’s irrational, but it freaks me out. I’m not used to sleeping alone.”
“No, it’s understandable. The guest room already has clean sheets on the bed. You’re welcome to stay here as long as it takes.”
“There’s something else. I was thinking about moving up the grand opening to next month. I’m not getting married in April, so I might as well open early.”
“But the whole plan was to get the tourists in here for a huge turnout.”
“That was the plan, but things change. I thought I’d send out invitations, handwritten, and invite everyone in the County. After all, showcasing local artists is what the store is about. We should support our own.”
After removing the pizzas from the oven, Gemma nodded. “Okay, it sounds like you’ve given this some thought. I support whatever you decide. If you want to open next month, let’s do it. Let’s make it happen.”
During supper, the two women put their heads together, discussing what needed doing over the next six weeks. While they ate, Lando and Zeb talked murder.
“I need you to go through the evidence, make sure I’m not overlooking anything. For the first time in my career, I’m not exactly sure which murder to tackle first. But I figure if I find out who killed Ben, the Copeland murders will fall in line.”
Gemma looked over at the men, turned her stare on Lando. “He certainly didn’t like it when I walked through the murder house.”
“I told you Jocelyn Williams called in a complaint about trespassers,” Lando explained. “By law, I was duly bound to show up and run you off.”
“But you haven’t even bothered to talk to that woman about her sister’s murder.”
“I’ve contacted her. She promised to come into the station and sit down for an interview.”
“When?”
“Jocelyn says she won’t have time until Friday.”
“So it’s Jocelyn, huh?” Annoyed, Gemma picked up her glass of iced tea. “Well, isn’t that nice and civilized. Since when does the prime suspect get to cherry-pick the time she comes in and answers questions?”
“Since she’s not at the top of the list,” Lando snapped.
Before Gemma could argue her point further, Lianne twisted in her chair. “You know, I didn’t mention this before, but last night I started thinking about old Ben. I saw him last Thursday afternoon talking to a man. He was standing right across the street from the shop, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, like he was waiting for someone to show up.”
“Why didn’t you mentioned this two days ago?” Lando barked from the other end of the table.
“Excuse me if I was a little busy getting dumped,” Lianne fired back. “Besides, I didn’t remember what I saw until last night. It just sort of popped into my head.”
From underneath the table, Gemma kicked Lando in the shin. “Apologize for that outburst. It’s been a crazy three days, and you know it.”
“Yeah. Sorry,” Lando muttered, his attitude changing from surliness to downright polite. “I’m gutted over this case. Okay? I haven’t had much sleep. There are factors in play that I’m not comfortable talking about right now. Let’s start again. Did you happen to recognize the man Ben met? Could you describe him to a sketch artist?”
“I suppose so. He was about forty-five or so,