Apple of My Eye (Tiger's Eye Mystery #7) - Alyssa Day Page 0,55

be bored out of his mind.

Jack glanced over at me when we were driving. "Are you okay? You've gone really quiet on me."

"I was just thinking about what Uncle Mike said. Dead End isn't a fancy metropolis or anything. Won't you be bored if you stay here for any length of time?" I stared at the window to avoid looking at him. "I mean, after all your adventures."

There was silence for a long moment, and then he started laughing. Loudly. In fact, it was pretty much a belly laugh. "Tess," he said, when he finally stopped laughing. "What part of the nine months since I came back to Dead End would you qualify as boring?"

He had a point.

"Yes, but hopefully it won't always be murders and stalkers and ghost pirates. And then what? We're left doing things like walking around town looking at decorations."

He reached out and took my hand and squeezed. "I spent ten years in some of the most dangerous situations imaginable. I would be perfectly happy to spend the rest of my life having dinners with you and walking around town looking at decorations."

Before I could answer that astonishing declaration, his phone buzzed. He handed it to me, since the truck was too old for Bluetooth, and I pushed speaker phone. It was Dallas.

"Shepherd."

"I'm here too," I said.

"Hey, Tess. How are you?"

"I'm good. Are you coming to the festival? Better yet, do you know anybody short who wouldn't mind dressing up as the swamp cabbage for the parade?"

Silence.

"Dallas?"

"We must have a bad connection. I thought you asked me to find somebody to dress up as a cabbage."

"Right. For the parade," I said helpfully.

Dallas chuckled. "Small towns are weird."

Jack broke into my important recruiting conversation. "Any news?"

"Yeah, you could say so. Brigham Hammermill the Fourth is definitely still alive."

15

We got nothing but speculation accomplished Wednesday night. We let Susan and Andy know, so they could pass the news along to the various state and federal officials who needed to know. And I called Aunt Ruby and Uncle Mike to let them know, too. But no matter how much we discussed it, we still couldn’t figure out what Brig might have to do with me or with the missing Ann Feeney.

Jack was restless at the news that our only possible suspect wasn’t dead after all and might actually be in town, so he went patrolling in tiger form for half the night while I went to sleep.

When my alarm went off, Jack knocked on my bedroom door and brought me in a cup of coffee.

"I could get used to this," I mumbled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

"I could get used to roast chicken and pumpkin pies," he said, not even flinching when he looked at my frightening morning hair.

He must really, really like pumpkin pie.

"I'm heading to Orlando to see what I can find out from some in-person interviews with any of Brig's associates I can get to talk to me," he told me. "I also have some work to do on my new case. Will you be okay on your own at work?"

I sighed. "Jack. I was okay for all those years before you came back to Dead End, remember? And I'm okay now. Eleanor is supposed to work this afternoon, even. Nobody is going to come after me at the pawnshop when there are customers in and out all day. This guy, whoever he is, has shown that he's a coward who sneaks around at night."

He didn't look convinced, but I shooed him out of the house. He needed to go home and do some chores around his house, too, instead of spending all his time at mine. I fed Lou, got dressed, and went to work, skipping the donuts this time. My jeans were getting a little bit snug.

The phone in the shop was ringing when I unlocked the door.

"Dead End Pawn, may I help you?"

"Tess. Hello. It's Bill Oliver."

Oh, boy. I had not had enough coffee for this conversation.

"Yes, Mr. Oliver?"

"I just… this is somewhat inappropriate, Tess, but do you know why Eleanor won't return my calls?"

It seemed like a bad idea to say "Speaking of inappropriate, I saw you hugging your blond hussy."

"She's very busy."

"I know she's busy," he said, sounding concerned and frustrated. "But she's always busy, and she always makes time to talk to me. She's not sick, is she?"

"Not that I know of," I said slowly. The hangover had certainly worn off by now.

"Then what could possibly