“It works for both of us. It’s not that he’s wrong. Eventually, I will get around to doing all the stuff on the list. But at the moment, I’m more interested in finding out what happened to Aunt Sara and Mary.”
“I notice you didn’t mention your suspicions to your father.”
Lucy sipped some coffee and lowered the glass. “Didn’t tell Mom, either. They would only worry if they knew.”
A knowing look illuminated his eyes. “You’re used to telling both of them what they want to hear and then going your own way.”
“I never lie to my folks, but I often proceed on the philosophy that what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
“Unless things blow up in your face.”
“Unless that happens, right. But I’ve got a secret weapon in this case.”
“What?” he asked.
“You. I’m sure Dad would approve. He’s always very keen on hiring the best. He says it pays in the long run. And as it happens, I am working with one of the preeminent cold case consultants in the world.”
“And that’s what you plan to tell your folks if the wheels come off this little project of yours—that you were working with a consultant.”
“A preeminent criminal investigation consultant.”
“Preeminent is a big word,” Mason said. “Does it mean not too smart, by any chance?”
“Nope, it means outstanding.” Her phone rang again, an unknown number this time. She took the call. “This is Lucy.”
“Lucy, it’s Teresa. I called to see if you would like to have dinner with my husband and me this evening. My niece says she’ll watch the kids. There’s a new restaurant in town. Rafe and I have been looking forward to trying it out.”
“Thank you,” Lucy said. “I’d like that very much.”
“And please invite Mason Fletcher along. It’s all over town that the two of you are seeing each other.”
Lucy winced. “That was fast. Hang on, he’s right here. I’ll ask him if he can join us.” She held the phone so that the mouthpiece was pressed against her shoulder. “This is Teresa Vega. She’s inviting both of us to join her and her husband for dinner. Are you free?”
“Sure,” Mason said. “Tell her I said thanks.”
Lucy put the phone back to her ear. “We’re both delighted to accept. Meet you at the restaurant.”
“Perfect. Got a pen?”
“Yes.”
Lucy scribbled down the name and address of the restaurant, said good-bye and ended the call. She cleared her throat.
“Something you should know before we go out to dinner with Teresa and Rafe Vega tonight,” she said.
“I’m listening.”
“Evidently, word has gotten around town that you and I are seeing each other.”
“That was fast.”
“Exactly what I said. You were right, one thing about Summer River has not changed over the years. It is still a small town in some ways.”
Mason’s mouth quirked faintly. “Probably why we got invited out to dinner as a couple. Teresa and Rafe want the latest hot gossip on the murder.”
“Oh, I’m sure of it. But here’s the thing. I don’t doubt that Teresa and her husband will try to pump us for inside information, but we will be able to return the favor. Teresa was raised in Summer River. She knows everyone.”
“What about her husband?”
“I think Sara said he’s relatively new in town. Teaches high school.”
“Gosh, this is exciting.”
She eyed him warily. “What are you thinking?”
“Just that this will be date number three for us.” He held up one hand and extended his forefinger. “On date number one we discovered a dead body.” He extended a second finger. “On date number two we were entertained with various and assorted veiled threats from a bunch of rich clowns wearing too much wine-country casual.” Mason raised one more finger. “Date number three is going to be all about interrogating local witnesses.”
“Your point?”
He gave her a wolfish smile. “My point is that this relationship of ours is getting off to an interesting start.”
The word relationship sent a frisson of uncertainty through Lucy. Mason was teasing her, she thought. She would follow suit.
“Well, I don’t think you can call three dates a relationship,” she said lightly. “But I can tell you that both of the dates we’ve had so far were a lot more interesting than all thirty matchmaking agency dates I’ve had in the past few months.”
“You said none of those arranged matches got past two dates, right?”
“Right. Most didn’t get past the first date, actually.”
“We are now on date number three. Given your track record, that constitutes a relationship.”
22
The restaurant was exactly what one expected in wine country—a bistro-style setting and an innovative West Coast menu. A display of local wines arrayed in floor-to-ceiling racks decorated one wall. Long-stemmed glassware sparkled on the tables. The menu earnestly assured diners that almost everything, from the arugula and the cheese in the arugula-and-fried-goat-cheese salad to the handmade ravioli, was organic and had been produced within a fifty-mile radius of the establishment—in some cases by the farm that was operated by the restaurant’s owner and chef.
Lucy wore the twilight dress that she had purchased for the winery reception. At least she would get two nights of wear out of it before it went to the back of her closet when she returned to Vantage Harbor. She had, however, indulged in some new high-heeled sandals. A woman could always use another pair of shoes.
Maybe it was just her imagination, but it seemed to her that when the party of four was escorted to a table they were followed by a lot of discreetly curious glances. Find one lousy body in your aunt’s fireplace and the first thing you know everyone is talking.
The evening started off with surprising ease. Rafe and Mason got along well from the start. When Rafe discovered that neither she nor Mason considered themselves wine connoisseurs, Rafe ordered a bottle of dry Riesling for the table after kindly explaining that it was very approachable. The waiter discussed the menu in reverential tones using language that belonged to the realm of poetry. Selections were made and orders taken.
And then the politely conducted mutual interrogation began. You had to give a little to get a little, Mason had advised going in. Lucy knew he was right. It was, after all, the first rule of gossip. For the most part, she and Mason answered the questions in a forthright manner until the entrées arrived. The only things they refrained from mentioning were her suspicions about the car accident that had killed Sara and Mary and her conviction that the house had been searched. Mason had stood firm on those two key points. You are not going to make an even bigger target of yourself than you have already were the precise words he had used. Put like that, it was hard to argue the point.