Part 3 (1/2)

”I can't say.” Declan stepped up beside me and I looked up and to my left. From this vantage point, his profile was outlined by the pulsing lights outside. The red and blue flas.h.i.+ng lights emphasized his firm chin and a nose that was well shaped and straight enough that some of the actors I knew would swoon with envy. Declan's gaze roved over the knots of people gathered out on the sidewalk, and I looked where he was looking, at the woman in the pink smock and the burly man who slipped his arm around her shoulders.

”Sophie says they're your aunt and uncle.”

”Kitty and Pat Sheedy. Salt of the earth. Kitty and my mother are sisters. Pat and my dad . . .” He twitched his shoulders. ”They love each other like brothers, but you'd be hard pressed to find two men who were more different.”

”Different good? Or different bad?”

Declan laughed. ”You'll see.” He slid me a sidelong look. ”If you hang around long enough.”

Rather than get pulled into that conversation again, I watched the two uniformed cops who moved from person to person outside, asking questions and writing down the answers. For all I knew, the police already had a theory about the Lance of Justice's murder, and maybe it really did have to do with someone trying to steal copper out of the restaurant. If that was the case, though, and the theory of the crime was wrapped up in a neat package, those cops outside probably wouldn't have looked quite so worried.

”I imagine a man like Jack Lancer has plenty of enemies,” Declan commented.

And I imagined he was right. I finished my tea, and when Declan held out a hand, I gave him the cup.

”What were you doing at the restaurant tonight?” I asked him.

I'd hoped for some other sort of reaction besides a laugh. ”Now you sound like the Lance of Justice himself! What were you doing there? Why were you seen? What were you up to?”

”So . . .” I turned so I could face him. ”What were you up to?”

”You don't believe neighbors should check on neighbors?”

”I don't believe in coincidences. You just happened to show up when we got there.”

”Because you just happened to turn on the lights in the waiting area. Since Sophie isn't usually open late on Mondays, that seemed a little fishy to me.”

”As fishy as you wanting to look around the restaurant?”

”I didn't like the idea of two ladies being in there alone after dark.”

”Except we weren't alone. There was a dead body in the other room.”

”And you think I knew something about it. You think that's why I wanted to get in there before you.”

”That's one possible explanation.”

”Are there others?”

I c.o.c.ked my head and considered the question. ”If you're the murderer, you might have been worried that you'd left something behind that would incriminate you.”

”I hate the thought of being a sloppy murderer!” The way he shook those broad shoulders of his let me know he was kidding, but I didn't let that distract me.

”If you had some idea that the body was there and you aren't the murderer but you have an idea who is . . . well, maybe you wanted to see what you could see of the crime scene before the police showed up. You know, so you'd be one step ahead of them.”

”Ah, I like that better. Makes me sound way smarter than I really am.”

”Or you might-”

”Have been worried about two ladies all alone in the middle of the night in a closed restaurant. Especially when one of them is older and in pain and the other one is-”

”What?” I asked.

Declan stepped back and as he had over at the restaurant, he gave me a careful once-over. Just like then, he smiled when he was done. ”The other one has the prettiest blue eyes I've seen in a month of Sundays, and I bet she knows her way around a kitchen.”

It was my turn to laugh. ”Is that a prerequisite of some kind with you? A woman has to know her way around a kitchen?”

”It helps. But then, I'm not very good when it comes to cooking. My talents lie in other places.”

Oh, I bet they did.

Just like I'd bet that this wasn't the time or the place to think about it.

I nudged the conversation back to firmer ground. ”And when you left the Terminal? You didn't come right back here.”

The way he spread his hands was almost enough to convince me he was as blase about the whole thing as he pretended to be. I might have been positive if a muscle didn't jump at the base of his jaw. ”Did I say I was going to come right back here?”

”You went around the side of the building.”

”I saw something move over there in the shadows and decided to investigate. You know, like the Lance of Justice would have. Turns out it was a cat. Has Sophie told you she feeds the neighborhood cats? And any lost dogs that come around, too. She's got a soft spot for strays.”

He was getting a little too personal again, and I refused to be sidetracked. ”Back at the Terminal . . .” As if he might actually forget the place I was talking about, I looked across the street. ”You didn't like it that I mentioned in front of Detective Oberlin that you showed up earlier.”

Declan puffed out a breath of annoyance. ”Gus Oberlin is a bully.”

”He said when there's trouble, you're always around. That seems pretty odd for a guy whose business is cute little stuffed leprechauns.” Since there was one sitting on a pretty carved table nearby, I picked it up and wiggled it in Declan's face.

”Paddy.” With one finger, he poked the leprechaun in the stomach. ”He's sort of the shop mascot. And like I said, the shop itself, it's not exactly mine. It's a family business.”

I patted Paddy on the head and put him back where I'd found him. ”Detective Oberlin doesn't like you.”

”And I'm not particularly fond of him. Which is why I didn't think you should mention that I'd been to the restaurant earlier tonight. Gus doesn't need any reason to believe things that aren't true.”

”Like that you had something to do with Jack Lancer's murder.”

Declan grinned. ”Do I look like the kind of guy who would get involved in murder?”

”Do I look like the kind of woman who would believe a guy like you, just because you have a terrific smile?”

”Do I?” Yeah, like he hadn't heard that a thousand times from a thousand different women, Declan acted like it was news. ”My parents will be thrilled. Seven thousand dollars' worth of orthodontia. But then, I played rugby in high school and college and some of these babies . . .” He pointed at his own wide smile. ”Don't spread it around, because I'd hate to disappoint all the other women who think I have a terrific smile, but some of these choppers aren't even real.”

I doubted it was true, but it made for a good story.

I wondered how much of everything else Declan said fell into the same category.

I, it should be noted, was not inclined to play such games. In the interest of full disclosure, I brought Declan up to speed. ”Detective Oberlin thinks Jack Lancer's murder has something to do with somebody trying to steal copper out of the restaurant.”