One Foot in the Grave - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,79

meant to take one home to Hank, but that was looking doubtful now.

“Lucky for you, I got the daisies,” he said as he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a bouquet of cut daisies and handed them to me.

“You put them in the fridge?”

He shrugged as he pulled out my creamer and put it on the counter. “I don’t know what to do with flowers, and they were in a refrigerated cooler when I bought them. I remembered they were in the car after we started watching the movie, so I went out and brought them in.”

The daisies were still wrapped in their plastic sleeve and looked about a hundred times better than the wilted tulips. “Thanks, Marco.”

“Helpin’ you where I can.” I could hear the guilt in his voice. It was killing him that he couldn’t do more.

“I’m trying to decide if I should go see Hilde before or after I see Bingham. I guess it depends on whether she’s an early riser.” I considered calling Ruth to see if she knew, but she was likely still sleeping herself.

“I’ll call my mom,” Marco said as he grabbed two coffee mugs out of the cabinet and poured coffee into both.

“You never talk about your mom,” I said, taking one of the mugs and pouring creamer into the coffee. I knew his parents had moved away after they got divorced twelve years ago. His mother had moved to North Carolina, and his father was in Knoxville.

“We talk now and again, and I know Mom was friendly with her.”

“Then did you know Heather?”

“Not really. Max and I were several years younger than Wyatt and Heather, and I really didn’t give her any thought. I was in college when she came back and she and Wyatt were together,” he said as he grabbed the creamer and put it back in the fridge, “and she was gone by the time I came back from school. I’ll call Mom in a bit.” He motioned to the door. “Do you want to sit outside while we drink our coffee?” He knew about my morning ritual with Hank.

“Um…before we decide on that, I need to mention something I noticed while I was outside.” I made a face. “Wyatt’s truck is parked at the end of your driveway.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a look of resignation.

“You’re not angry?”

“Why would I be angry? I’m not gonna invite him in and serve him breakfast, but if he wants to provide an extra layer of protection for you, I’m not gonna fight it.”

“I don’t need protecting,” I said. “I’ve hardly talked to anyone yet.”

“But if the real killer finds out you’re lookin’, they might try to stop you.”

I still didn’t think I had much to be worried about, but I wasn’t about to argue with a sheriff’s deputy.

“I think we should go sit outside,” Marco said with a mischievous grin. “It looks like a beautiful morning.”

“You’re terrible.” I shook my head. “Call your mom, and I’ll go take a shower. Then we can sit outside.”

I tossed my clothes into the dryer before I went into Marco’s bathroom. My shampoo and conditioner were still in the shower from the last time I’d stayed over. When I got out, I blow-dried my hair, then put on a clean pair of his sweatpants and one of his T-shirts.

Marco was talking on the phone when I came out, and he cracked a smile, pointing to the phone and mouthing Mom as he flapped his hand to pantomime that she wouldn’t stop talking.

Grinning, I refilled my coffee, while Marco said, “I’ve got to go, Mom…yes, I’ll come see you soon… love you.” He hung up and lifted his brow. “And that is why I don’t call her very often.”

I leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial tone, “Perhaps she wouldn’t spend so much time talking to you if you called her more often.”

He refilled his own cup and took a sip. “Ah, the age-old chicken and the egg mystery.”

“You’re lucky to have a mother, Marco. Don’t take her for granted.”

He placed a kiss on my forehead. “Touché. Thanks for the reminder.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Mom says that Hilde’s a very early riser. Like five-in-the-morning early. You can go anytime.”

“Okay.”

“But I’m going with you.”

“Marco… we discussed this last night.”

“No, I agreed it would be best if you talked to Bingham and other people on your own, but Hilde’s different. Mom wants me to give her condolences