A Justified Murder (Medlar Mystery 2)

“Really?”

He laughed at the way she sounded like a preteen groupie.

When the nachos arrived, he ate a couple of the hot cheese–dipped corn crisps, and leaned forward. “How are you doing about...you know. The case.”

“Which part? Murder? Suicide? Lies spoken in church?” She lowered her voice. “Or my father?”

“That last one.”

“Every time his name is mentioned, I find out something new. And none of it has been good.”

“At least people liked your dad.” He ate a clump of chips and drank of his beer.

“I still can’t see our fathers as friends. Would brains and brawn fit together? But then, that’s like you and me and we get along well enough.”

Jack grinned. “You think I’m brawny?”

“I think I’m the brains so you get whatever is leftover.”

Jack gave a snort of laughter.

“The more I hear—all told in tiny pieces, by the way—I think our fathers may have been more alike than we think. The same but opposite.”

“You mean that my father was loud so yours was...”

“Quiet. Mine escaped, but yours...”

“Got caught. Often,” Jack said.

“My father was a cat burglar while yours was...”

“A six-gun outlaw.”

Kate sighed. “Mine may have stolen diamonds.” She looked at him to reply.

“No one knows where Dad got the money for that big Harley. It just appeared one day.”

“Think our fathers rode away together on a stolen motorcycle while clutching a bag of misappropriated jewelry?” When Jack didn’t laugh as she’d expected him to, she looked at him. He wasn’t smiling.

“My father had a big mouth. He loved to brag, thought it made him seem tough. But from what I hear of your father, he kept things to himself. If he did anything illegal, he did it alone and didn’t tell anyone.”

“You’re saying that Roy was what he seemed but my father, Randal, hid inside a facade of charm.”

“Pretty much.”

“What you’re really saying is that we don’t know what happened with... I guess with anyone.”

“We sure know a lot of facts, but we don’t seem to have put them together at all. Sylvia, Janet.”

“Tayla, Gil.”

“And maybe Carl Olsen. Fat now skinny. Skulks around but no one knows why. I think—” He broke off when the band began to play. “I think we should forget it and dance.” He held out his hand and she took it.

It was a slow dance and Jack pulled Kate close. He was half a foot taller than she was, but with her heels, they fit together perfectly.

“What shampoo do you use?” he whispered.

“Behave or I’ll dance with Chris.”