Part 21 (1/2)

I laughed and shook my head. ”When the time is right- and it's not right yet-I'll have my way with him, not yours. And that's the end of that discussion.”

Richie made a face and dumped a handful of trash into the can. ”All right. Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

I didn't hesitate to ask the question that had been on my mind all through dinner. ”How much do you know about Ginger?”

”Ginger? From the antique store?” Richie came around the island and picked up a towel, waiting for a gla.s.s to dry. ”Not much. Why?”

”Do you think there's any chance she could be connected to the guy who was murdered the other night?”

”Is that a serious question? I want to talk about s.e.x, and you want to talk about murder. Girl, you have some real issues.”

Grinning, I handed him a dripping crystal goblet. ”That's old news, I'm afraid. And yes, it's a serious question.”

”I have no idea if she's connected to him. Why?”

”I don't know. Just a hunch, I guess. Do you remember seeing a man with a limp hanging around her store?”

Richie thought about that for a second, then shook his head. ”Not while I was there, but that doesn't mean much. I don't care what Dylan tries to tell you, I haven't been at the shop that much.”

I smiled and washed another gla.s.s. ”I believe you. It's just that there have been several strange things going on in Paradise lately, and I'm starting to think they're all connected. I just can't figure out how.”

Richie's smile faded slowly. ”What things?”

I shook soap and water from my hands and slid two more gla.s.ses into the sink. ”I thought I saw the dead guy get shot, out by Dwayne Escott's house a few nights before he was actually killed. And in between, I saw him hanging around Kerry Hendrix's truck. And someone else saw him getting into a car with Quentin Ingersol. I saw Kerry and Dwayne arguing the other night, and tonight they're working together to unload a truck. There's a connection between all four of them; I just don't know what it is.”

”Have you asked any of them?”

”Everybody denies knowing the dead guy. Believe me, none of them are going to tell me anything, especially not about the murder.”

Richie's entire face lit up with victory. ”So you do think Quentin has something to do with the murder.”

”Maybe. I heard that the dead guy, using the name Lou Hobbs, met with him several times, and they had some kind of conversation just minutes before he was found dead. Of course, Quentin denies everything.”

Richie hooked a gla.s.s onto the rack overhead and frowned thoughtfully. ”That's odd.”

”Why do you say that?”

”Well, I think I saw them together.”

”Where? When?”

”It was at O'Schucks in a booth near the back of the bar.”

”You're sure it was Quentin and Lou Hobbs?”

”Well no, but Quentin was with someone I'd never seen before, and I know just about everyone in paradise, at least by sight. Ask Dylan. He saw them, too. And they were way into whatever conversation they were having. Dylan and I wondered if maybe Quentin had switched teams . . . if you know what I mean.”

”I don't suppose you heard what they were talking about?”

Richie shook his head. ”Sorry. They were way in the back, like I said.”

”Can you remember who was sitting near them? Anyone who might have overheard their conversation?”

”I wasn't paying that much attention. They weren't there long, though. I can remember that.”

”How long?”

”Maybe ten minutes.”

I rinsed a gla.s.s and handed it to him. ”Did they leave together?”

”I think so. They were both there one minute and both gone the next. I didn't notice them leaving, though.”

I chewed my bottom lip and tried to shove this new piece of the puzzle into the jumbled picture I already had. It had to fit somewhere, but I sure didn't know where. The only thing it did was to back up Elena Whitehorse's claims that Quentin spent time doing something with Lou Hobbs.

Growling in frustration, I tackled the next goblet in line. ”This is making me crazy. Nothing seems to bring me any closer to figuring out what's going on.”

Richie swept crumbs from the island into the trash. ”Maybe you're trying too hard.”

”Or maybe I'm not trying hard enough.”

”I doubt that. What do you have so far?” I opened my mouth to answer, but he held up a hand to stop me. ”What you have is a murdered guy who everybody knew but n.o.body admits to knowing. Why do you think that is? I mean, I can understand the murderer lying about knowing him, but according to what you've told me, n.o.body claims this guy as a friend.”

I stopped working and turned to look at him, dismayed that I hadn't made that connection for myself. ”Why would they do that? To protect themselves from something?”

Richie nodded. ”Probably.”

I could feel something dancing just out of my reach, but I couldn't wrap my mind around it. ”Yeah, but what? Why would admitting that they knew Hobbs be dangerous to anybody?”

”Maybe they're afraid that the killer will come after them.”

”Just for admitting they knew him?” I shook my head. ”That doesn't make sense.”

”It would if he's the one thing that could link them all together.”

My hand stilled as Richie's suggestion sank in. ”You mean that Hobbs isn't the key to finding the next clue, he is the clue?”

”Yeah, I guess.” Richie found an open bottle of wine and poured what was left into two clean gla.s.ses. He handed one to me and perched on a barstool in front of the island. ”Maybe you'd find out something horrible about all of these people if you could just connect them, and maybe the only thing that can connect them was Hobbs.”

I smiled slowly. ”Hobbs came back to town and threatened to expose whatever they're hiding-”

”So one of them killed him.”

I laughed softly, warming to the idea a little more with every word. ”Because they a.s.sumed that if he was dead, that would be the end of it. The police would write him off as some homeless derelict who didn't matter to anyone, and they'd all go on about their business as if nothing had ever happened.”

Richie held up his gla.s.s and touched his rim to mine. ”Instead of focusing on Hobbs, maybe you should be trying to tie the suspects together.”