its way to the tap.
“I gave him a hard time about needing to get a real job, but he insisted he had money coming. Real money. The sort of money that would mean I didn’t have to worry about that job with FitFab.”
I couldn’t imagine that Bryan would get much from the university for his complaint against Emily Clowper, especially if the university was on the verge of passing him on his exams. If he got what he wanted in the first place—to move forward in the graduate program—he wouldn’t have much in the way of an injury that required financial compensation. And Jonas Landry had sworn Bryan hadn’t been blackmailing him for cash. Maybe Bryan had another, more lucrative iron in the fire.
“Did he say where that money was coming from?”
Ashley splashed water on her face, but the streaks of mascara didn’t fade a bit. “Nope,” she said. “And now I’ll never know.”
chapter 26
Cal handled the news of Ashley’s pregnancy better than I would have thought.
By which I mean that he didn’t actually, literally bite my head off.
“Dammit, Tally, how the holy hell do you end up in the middle of every goddam mess in this whole goddam town?”
“Settle down, cowboy. I’m not in the middle of anything here.” We were sitting at a table near the front of Erma’s Fry by Night, digging in to matching Denver omelets, and I didn’t cotton much to all the old-timers at the lunch counter listening to Cal dress me down.
“Maybe we gotta break out that dictionary again? Look up ‘middle’? Because the way I see it this Ashley girl has a secret that needs telling, and you’re the one whose lips are moving.”
“Believe me, Cal, I don’t particularly want to be sitting here having this conversation. But through no fault of my own, I happen to know she’s pregnant. And that she didn’t plan to tell your family. Would you have preferred I keep my mouth shut?”
“No,” he snapped, dropping his fork to his plate with a bone-jangling crash.
He shoved his fingers through his short salt-and-pepper hair. Men tended to do that a lot when I was around. Not sure why.
He blew out a big breath and picked up his fork again.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m glad you told me. I just . . . What was he thinking, Tally?”
I shrugged one shoulder and took a bite of egg. “He’s young and male. She’s cute and blond. There might have been alcohol. I doubt thinking had anything to do with it.”
“But a student? And he wasn’t even safe about it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Again, all perfectly good, rational arguments, which would have meant exactly nothing to that boy in the heat of the moment. Besides, you don’t know that he wasn’t safe. You can carry an umbrella and still get wet.”
Cal choked on a bite of toast, and took a sip of his coffee to wash it down. But by the time he set down his cup, a faint, wistful smile had graced his face.
“Marla will be happy,” he said.
“Even under the circumstances?”
“She won’t give a rat’s ass about the circumstances. All she’ll care about is having a grandbaby.”
I poked the tines of my fork at my omelet, weighing my words. “I just hope she remembers that Ashley’s the mama.” Cal narrowed his eyes, bracing for an argument, but I held up a hand to forestall him. “Look, it’s between Marla and Ashley. All I’m saying is the girl’s as skittish as an unbroke colt, and Marla might get further with her if she slow-played her hand.”
He snorted. “I just hope Ashley’s feeling skittish and not guilty.”
“I really don’t think she killed Bryan. And I can’t even imagine how or why she would have killed Emily.”
“I appreciate your expert opinion, Detective Jones. Since all signs point to Emily Clowper killing Bryan and then taking her own life, I’m inclined to agree with you. But I hope you don’t mind if I let the police confirm that story.”
“Of course not. Especially since I happen to think Emily Clowper was absolutely innocent and was murdered herself,” I said, lifting my coffee cup in a mock salute.
“Good Lord, woman. Are you still clinging to that story?”
“It’s not a story,” I said. “Look, I don’t expect you to believe me, but you don’t need to make fun of me.”
Cal grew serious. “Is that what you think? That I’m making fun of you?”
“Aren’t you?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I am not. You follow your own gut.