18. Hattie

"How's the evening treating you both?" I ask my boss and my ex as they stare back at me with placid smiles. One of them is as phony as can be. I'll let you guess which one.

Killion pulls out my seat like a perfect gentleman—one I wouldn't mind strangling at the moment—and we take a seat across from the happy couple right here out on the patio of the Lobster Boil.

Peyton rolls her eyes. "Oh, you know, just the usual tonight. Trying to keep Duke in line. It's panning out to be a full-time job."

"I remember well," I say, hitching a lock of hair behind my ear as I try to dazzle him with my emerald wonders.

Come on, Duke. If you sent them, I want you to admit it. At least admit it to yourself.

Duke chuckles at Peyton. "She's not wrong. But I'm doing my darnedest to be on my best behavior."

I smile over at Peyton. "Well, if you need any tips on handling difficult men, you know who to ask. I'm getting plenty of experience thanks to this one," I say, nodding toward Killion.

I only wish I were kidding.

Killion feigns offense. "Hey, I'm starting to resemble that remark."

"Indeed you are." I wink over at him.

The waitress comes by and takes our order. It's the surf and turf special for all of us. And not a single soul at the table has commented on the glowing green gems attached to my ears.

I had a feeling Duke wasn't my culprit.

I fiddle with my earlobe and tip my head his way as if offering him one last chance to fess up.

"What's the matter with your ear?" Peyton snips. "Are your earlobes itching? That happens to me when I wear cheap earrings, too. You really should take those off."

I lift a brow in Duke's direction once Peyton lets the C word fly, but he doesn't even seem interested.

"They're not cheap," I say. "In fact, one of the club members took a look at them this afternoon and assured me they were pricey emeralds. Did you know some emeralds are more expensive than diamonds?"

"Emeralds, huh?" Duke shakes his head. The next thing you know Peyton will be clamoring for a pair just like them. All she does is talk about Hattie. Of course, I don't mind talking about Hattie myself. Little does she know it took a million years for me to get over that heartbreak. And even though Hattie didn't break Peyton's heart, she seems just as preoccupied with her—albeit in a negative light.

That makes sense. Although, I didn't break Duke's heart either. He broke mine.

"You did the breaking up between us," I tell him. "Just in case you forgot what happened."

His eyes narrow in on mine. And there goes that familiar chill up my spine once again.

"This is exactly why I broke things off with you," he says, pointing at me with the glass of water in his hand. "You always seem to know what I'm thinking."

"Couples' intuition," Killion chimes in. "We have it, too." He shudders as if a chill just went through him as well.

"You stay out of my boyfriend's mind, Hattie Holiday," Peyton snips again. And my mind for that matter. She cocks her head my way as if testing to see if I've heard.

"We don't know who sent me these earrings," I say, proceeding to ignore the fact she's trying to mentally trap me. "Whoever it is, they sent me a brooch this afternoon as well."

"Sent it where?" Peyton looks livid as if she could feel the country club being dragged into the drama.

She would be right.

"The Cottage House," Killion says. "I'm already speaking with security to procure the tapes. I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this soon enough. There's no return address and they don't seem to be sent by courier." He takes a moment to glare at Duke. "So if you're sending them, you should probably fess up."

"I'm not," Duke says quickly. "If I were trying to win back Hattie's affections, I would have opted for something more lowkey that appealed to her ravenous need for seafood. Like a nice dinner."

Killion's brows furrow. Hey? Wasn't this place his idea?

"So you didn't send the gifts?" I ask Duke point-blank.

"Nope." And even if I did want Hattie back, I know better than to spoil a woman with fancy jewelry. Once you start with that stuff, women come to expect it. I'd go broke just trying to keep up with myself.

"He didn't do it," I say to Killion.

Shoot,Killion growls as he casts a quick look around the patio. That means whoever is trying to get in my girlfriend's good graces is still lurking out there somewhere. And my gut says things are going to get sinister quickly.

I make a face because my gut is getting the exact same feeling.

"What exactly is happening here?" Duke asks just as the food is delivered, and boy, does it look divine—that is, if my appetite ever did a reprisal. "Someone is dropping off jewelry and running off?"

"Basically." I nod. "Only they come with a note, no signature, and the gift comes in a little pink box. I've gotten two of them."

"So far," Killion adds. "And those notes talk quite a bit about your beauty."

"Oh, good gravy," Peyton snorts. "It's clear one of those old codgers at the country club has mistaken your kindness for flirting." Unless, of course, Hattie is actually flirting. I wouldn't put it past her to hanker for a sugar daddy. Heaven knows the men who hang out at that place could afford to keep her in jewels for the rest of her life. She gives Killion the once-over. But I'll admit, not one of those old codgers looks like that. Leave it to Hattie to play both sides of the field.

My mouth falls open. "I can assure you, I haven't been flirting with anyone." I glance at Killion. "With the exception of—" I'm about to say you when I see a peculiar sight. "Is that my brother with Tipper Luxemburg?" I practically choke on the words as I say them.

"Looks like it." Killion chuckles. Hattie may not be mining the country club for a suitor, but Henry sure is.

I make a face at Killion for even going there.

"Tipper just broke it off with that Tucker guy," Peyton says. "The one who owns all those bars? I guess she's back on the prowl and your brother is her very first prey. Good luck to him. Once Tipper clamps down on someone, she doesn't let go." Or more to the point, clamps her legs around him.

I gasp and jump at the thought. That was one visual I certainly didn't need tonight.

We start in on our meals—juicy steaks that are just a hair from mooing. I like mine extra rare and so does Killion. And the lobster is steamed to a bright red perfection.

Killion moans after taking a bite of luscious lobster dipped in butter.

"This is too delicious," he says, patting his mouth with his napkin. "Let me guess, Holiday lobster?"

"You bet," I say before nodding at the two across the table. "My dad supplies most of the seafood restaurants around here with his catch. Always fresh, always best with butter."

"Isn't everything?" Duke says, chuckling my way. "Hattie and I had a thing for buttered corn on the cob while we were dating."

"We had a thing for corn on the cob because your uncle had a crop of corn on his farm," I remind him. "The butter was complimentary, too," I say to Killion and we share a quick laugh.

Peyton twitches her lips in Duke's direction. I had an inkling the guy was a cheapskate. In fact, I was shocked when he suggested we dine here tonight. Although, come to think of it, he's probably counting on Killion to pick up the tab. She slices a glance my way. How did I get stuck with Hattie's cheap leftovers? She eyes Killion for a moment. But then again, I might just be waiting in line in the event Hattie decides to toss that hottie overboard.

I clear my throat. "Duke has such great qualities. You're very lucky to have him, Peyton," I say to the sleazy brunette looking to snag my man.

Killion shifts in his seat. Sounds as if Hattie still wishes she had him.

"Not that I'm interested in Duke in that way," I say, nodding to Killion.

Was I that obvious?He frowns at the thought.

"You heard the lady." Duke touches his elbow to Peyton's. "You're lucky to have me."

Peyton doesn't so much as shed a smile. The more Hattie tries to shine a spotlight on him, the dimmer he gets. What is she up to, anyway?

"So, Detective"—Peyton sheds a sly smile at Killion—"what's going on with the Jordan case? I don't think for a minute that was an accident. Mostly because Hattie found the woman. And seeing that Hattie seems to specialize in homicides, I have a feeling that's the direction this is headed in."

"I'm keeping all options open," Killion tells her. "The coroner ruled it death by electrocution and that certainly could have been an accident." He nods to the coroner at hand.

"That cable shouldn't have been there," I say. "Ooh, I just thought of something," I say, turning to Killion. "Maybe the cable has fingerprints on it? I mean, I'm sure my staff wouldn't mind coming down to the station so you could rule them out."

"The heck they wouldn't," Peyton snaps. "Killion, if you absolutely need them, they will do just that. But if you can at all avoid it, I'd appreciate it." It's bad enough I've been hemorrhaging employees ever since Hattie took the helm. If they think routine trips to the sheriff's department is a part of the job description, I'll lose more than half of them right out the gate.

She's not wrong. For reasons that escape me, most people aren't fans of being fingerprinted and quasi-accused of murder.

"How about we change the subject to something far less caustic?" I suggest. "Like the upcoming Fourth of July Stars and Stripes Spectacular?"

Peyton narrows her eyes my way. "And that's another thing you had better not screw up by way of involving a corpse."

I'm about to defend my questionable honor—considering that I happen to have a record of dragging a corpse into my events—when I spot a familiar blonde settling in at the bar. Right next to her is a tall, broad-chested man with thinning hair and a greasy smile. He wraps an arm around the blonde's shoulders and proceeds to kiss her on the cheek. And then it hits me exactly who that greaseball is.

Gah!

It's Dr. Draper! Never mind the fact he's my very next suspect. I don't like the fact he has his greasy mitts all over my very much taken sister.

Okay, so I don't approve of Stanton Troublefield either, Neelie's questionable plus-one. But still, at least he's not a suspect in an active murder investigation—this time—or happily married!

Okay, fine. I don't know how happy Dr. Draper's marriage is either, but that doesn't change the fact that he has one. And I know for a fact Neelie isn't his wife.

"Excuse me," I say, bouncing out of my seat. "I need to make an emergency trip to the little girls' room."

"Probably a residual effect from those seaweed smoothies," Peyton assures Killion and Duke as I make a dash for the bar.

But before I can get there, a couple of grannies with far too much gumption step in front of me.

"Oh, thank goodness," I say, pulling both Peggy and Clarabelle in close. "My next suspect is here."

"The dentist?" Peggy cranes her neck past me. "Let me at him. Murderously handsome men are my specialty."

"Hot dog!" Clarabelle claps her hands. "Let's go get him."

"You can't," I say. "I need the both of you to head to that table over there and make sure Killion stays put. He won't want me talking to a suspect. Do whatever it takes to make sure he doesn't follow me."

We part ways and I head straight for the bar—and perhaps straight for the killer.