about the phone in my Dumpster?” Barry asked when they paused for a stoplight.
Darla shook her head, the pleasant light-headedness she’d been feeling from the wine wearing off with this turn of conversation. “No, nothing,” she assured him. “Besides, he wouldn’t discuss an active case with me anyhow.”
Not that she hadn’t given Jake a call earlier that evening to see if the older woman would at least give her an idea of what was going on. But Jake had been either legitimately busy or else deliberately avoiding her calls, for both attempts had gone to voice mail.
Barry let the subject drop, and their conversation for the remainder of their walk was of pleasant inconsequentials. But as they reached the stoop leading to Darla’s private entrance, he said, “Just so you know, I’ll be heading out on Sunday morning for Connecticut. Curt’s funeral will be on Monday, and I want to be there beforehand for his mom and sister.”
“I’m sure they’ll be glad of your support. Is there anything I can do for you while you’re gone? Water a plant, feed a fish?” she offered before she realized she had no idea where the man actually lived.
To her relief, he shook his head.
“No plants, no fish,” he replied with a slight smile, “but I appreciate the thought. But let me know if you hear anything about that business with the phone. I’m not counting on your detective friend to keep me in the loop.”
“Sure, but I’ll need your number,” she reminded him.
He smiled and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Sorry, I forgot,” he said and hit a button that caused Darla’s phone to ring a moment later.
She shot him a look of surprise as she pressed the “Talk” button and then shut it off again. “How did you get my cell number? I only ever give out the store number to customers.”
“Oh, that.” He gave her a wry look. “Actually, I got it from Curt a while back . . . you know, just in case. I hope you’re not mad.”
She considered that for a moment. Apparently, the whole time she’d been wondering about him, he’d been thinking about her.
“Hey, at least you didn’t hang some huge ‘Darla Will You Date Me?’ sign on my door. That definitely would have rated stalker.” Smiling back, she slipped her phone into her pocket. “Anyhow, I guess I’ve got your number now.”
“Guess you do,” he answered, and leaned forward to kiss her.
A bit later, as she let herself back into her apartment, she reflected that the kiss—like Barry—had been nice. Not earth-shattering, and not off-putting, but somewhere pleasantly in between. Which was all right for a first date . . . and which boded well for a second.
“Hamlet, I’m home,” she called as she set down her bag and hung her coat on the peg.
Hamlet did not reply, which was par for the course. As she made a quick sweep through the apartment, she did not find him in any of his usual lounging spots. She realized with a growing sense of unease that he was not anywhere inside, meaning he had either slipped downstairs into the store or had once again fled the building completely.
“Glad I didn’t bring you that shrimp,” she said to his absent self as she went into her bedroom to change. Her blue and gold comforter—the one she’d bought upon moving in because of its calming vibe—bore no cat-shaped wrinkles. Only a scattering of black hairs indicated that Hamlet occasionally took a nap there.
“Fine, run away from home just like Tera,” she added as she changed into sweats, “but don’t expect me to hire Jake to find you. And I’m not leaving the lights on, either.”
The one-sided conversation reminded her to check the security cameras. Maybe now with the camera angle rearranged, she’d get lucky and spot where the crafty feline was sneaking out. She glanced at her watch to see that it was almost eleven p.m. Even if she didn’t spy Hamlet skulking about, at least she could reassure herself that things in the vicinity of Pettistone’s Fine Books were quiet for the night.
Returning to the living room and the rolltop desk where she kept her laptop, Darla turned on her computer and pulled up the security program. So far, so good, she thought with a look at the live camera shots. She’d take a quick look at what had been recorded so far and then check periodically through the night on the live action.
But the