He’d admitted she was right.
Caitlin had a point. After she got the outsider settled, she was so going to savor that.
Before she headed out of the kitchen, a familiar voice called out from her communicator, bringing her attention back to the radio still in her hand.
“Sweetheart. You in?”
Sylvester rarely used the radio to contact her. Maria’s paranoia that he would buzz her when Lucas was around kept him from contacting her even though he had her direct channel. If he wanted to talk to her, he waited for her to call him—or he swung by Ophelia and checked to see if her brother’s Mustang was parked out front.
She wasn’t ashamed of her lover. Far from it. But explaining just how serious her relationship with Sly had become in the year since they met… well, that was one conversation she didn’t want to have with Lucas quite yet.
Thinking about the one she just had, she wondered if Sly’s buzz had anything to do with this outsider.
“Sly. Tesoro.” Maria felt comfortable using the term of endearment—a literal translation of “treasure”, though it meant he was her darling—because Sly didn’t know more than a handful of words in Italian. He was learning for her, though he hadn’t picked much up yet. Still, the thought was there. “Is everything alright?”
“Have you heard from the doctor yet?”
There was something about the way he asked her that. Not your brother. The doctor. “I have,” she said hesitantly, “but it didn’t have anything to do with his work. He wanted to talk to me about Ophelia. Why?”
“Police business. He…” Sly paused, as if deciding whether to continue his thought or not. “He got called in by the sheriff to take care of a body.”
Her first reaction was to ask who died. In a village with such a small population, she knew everyone in town and mourned the loss of each and everyone who passed. Even old Mrs. Birmingham, who died a few months ago—and forced Maria to alter her most recent Hamlet welcome sign in order to correct the population count.
But then it hit her that Sly said police business and she forgot all about the sign and Mrs. B.
Police business meant that there was something off about this one. And he said body instead of a name.
Her brow furrowed, she had to ask, “Do I know them?”
“I don’t think so. It was an outsider.” Another pause, then the words spilled out in that strong, no-nonsense tone she adored: “A male outsider was found strangled to death over in the Hamlet Inn. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I had to make sure you know to be careful. The sheriff’ll kick my ass if she finds out I did. I had to tell you, though. You’re too important to me.”
His concern melted her heart and heated her cheeks. It was so caring, so sweet that she didn’t even comprehend what it was that he told her at first. When it registered, her mouth dropped open. A murder? At the Mitchell’s inn?
“What? No way—in Hamlet?”
“I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself. It was bad. Very bad.”
Sly Collins was ex-military. During the long nights when they just talked, getting to know each other, he told her stories about the time he served. How bad did it have to be for him to say it was bad?
“What—”
“Uh-uh. No way, sweetheart. I’m not putting that nightmare into your head. And don’t ask the doctor, either. I know he won’t tell you. And that’s after he skins me for letting you know that it happened in the first place.”
That was true—and not only because she had only just spoken to him and he mentioned nothing about a murder. Though it did explain what Lucas was doing with Caitlin. As often as he was able to avoid his ex-wife, there were times when the town doctor couldn’t get away from the sheriff.
Maria tried not to overreact. Sly came to her with this news because he trusted her. She wouldn’t make him any more upset by freaking out. “Lucas is bringing a guest for Ophelia,” she told him instead. “Tessa Sullivan. Would she have anything to do with this?”
Outsiders were rare in Hamlet. What were the odds that one needed a place to stay when another was murdered in poor Caro’s inn and the two weren’t connected? Maria doubted that very much.
But Sly wasn’t talking.
“I wouldn’t have involved you in this at all. But I’ve gotta accept that there might be a murderer in Hamlet. I won’t risk you. I love you, sweetheart.”
In her head, she said the words back.
He waited for her to answer him, sounding resigned when the time came and passed in silence. “Sheriff’s got me and Mase pulling doubles. I’ll do anything I can to keep Hamlet safe, but I might not be able to see you for a couple of days. I’ll feel a lot better if I know you’re safe inside.”
Her stomach sank. Sly took his job as deputy seriously. Didn’t mean that she liked the idea of being apart from him. Or that it didn’t scare her that he was actually out there looking for a murderer.