I grabbed some celery from the fridge and when I turned back to the counter I jumped, surprised to see Roxie sitting there, not that I should be. Anytime I opened a can of tuna, she was right there.
“What did I tell you about getting on the counter tops?” I scolded, though why I wasted my breath I didn’t know. She was a calico with one major attitude problem.
She meowed loud enough for Mo to raise his head, though he dared not look her way since he was afraid of her. She would keep up the lamenting meow if I didn’t give her some of the tuna. So, like a dutiful servant, I put some tuna on a dish and placed it on the floor.
“Now stay there,” I ordered like she would actually obey me.
I was just getting the plates on the island counter when Amy showed up. Amy looked gorgeous in everything she wore, though I should say she made whatever she wore look gorgeous and that included the black leggings with a red shirt topped with a white and black geometric design jacket and cinched at the waist with a wide black leather belt, and red flats adorned her feet. Of course, she had her large, black leather business tote with her that held not only business paraphernalia, but her e-reader plus two or three paperbacks of the latest romance novels she was reading. Amy loved the feel of a book in her hand, but she also loved the eye-candy on the cover of the romance novels, hence the paperbacks. She proudly let it be known she was a romance junky and met once a month with a romance reading group.
“I’m starving,” she said, dropping her tote on the couch and walking around it to squat down and give Mo a rub and a kiss before making her way to the kitchen island that could comfortably accommodate four people.
Roxie went to walk by her, and I sent her a sharp pssst. It was as if she knew Amy was wearing black and intended to rub all over her on purpose. She turned, raised her tail high, and walked over to her cat tree by the window and curled up in the top tier, presenting her back to us.
Placing a pitcher of mango iced tea on the island, I joined Amy.
“So, Thomas says this guy your brothers are squawking about is military, besides being gorgeous.”
“I don’t know about that. His hair just skims his neck and I’ve never seen that length hair on a military guy.”
“Paramilitary,” Amy said.
“How do you know about paramilitary?” I knew the answer as soon as the question left my mouth.
Simultaneously, we both said, “Romance books.”
“I suppose it’s a possibility, since he didn’t look surprised when he saw the dead guy lying there with his throat cut.”
Amy’s hand went to her throat. “Good lord, Pepper, how are you ever going to stay here alone with a murderer on the loose?”
“This couldn’t have been a random murder. As you pointed out, the dead guy could have been meeting with someone in the woods. If that proves true, then someone wanted the dead guy in an isolated spot where he could easily kill him and not have his body discovered for some time.”
“If it wasn’t for a nosey woman.” Amy pointed out.
“Hey, I needed to know who moved into my backyard.”
“At least it wasn’t Strathmore Developers.” Amy shuddered. “There would have been nothing left of Willow Lake woods if they had bought the property.”
Mo raised his head and barked twice.
“My dad,” I said.
Amy shook her head. “I can’t believe he stills barks every time your dad pulls up. He doesn’t make a sound when I arrive.”
“That’s because you didn’t call him lazy.”
My dad entered, shaking his head. “How many times do I have to tell you to keep that door locked?”
I smiled, confident in Mo’s abilities to protect me and poured a glass of mango tea and handed it to my dad.
He took a drink. “Don’t think bribing me with my favorite drink is going to save you from a lecture.”
“It’s worth a try,” I said. My dad was a handsome man and the type who grew better looking with age. He was tall, my brothers inheriting his height, but not me, and he kept himself in great shape. He blamed me, a daughter with not only a mind of her own but a curious one at that, for his hair turning white prematurely.
“Tell me about when the dead guy stopped here,” my dad said.
“There’s not much to tell. He thought this was the road to the lodge—” I stopped, thinking back on that day.
“What?” my dad asked with concern.
“Now that I think on it, when he left, he thanked me by name, and I never told him my name.”