Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(9)
I studied the interior of the place.
While the outside of the house was rustic logs, sturdy and just a little rugged, the inside was all sleek and modern. Black leather couch and wingback chairs took the center of the living room and adjoining sitting area that overlooked the big windows facing the lake. A gas fireplace took the corner of the far wall and clean white-shaded lamps strung across the high vaulted ceiling.
Art on the walls was original oils and watercolors in stark black against white with single, bold brushes of color. I stepped a little closer to a piece that looked like a ship going down in a dark sea, the lighthouse a blind, useless eye in the storm. Ryder’s blocky initials linked together to create a small signature in the corner.
There was a lot of power in that painting. A lot of pain.
The house was a study of clean lines that anchored the negative space, furniture set to allow for a clear path to the deck and front and back doors, the open kitchen offering a clear view of most of the living area.
A blueprint spread across the immaculate glass coffee table, round black stones from the beach pinning the corners.
This wasn’t what I’d expect from a small-town bachelor. This was sleek, refined, and undoubtedly masculine.
For just a moment I pondered how much of his life I’d missed. How much he’d changed since I’d known him. The high school boy with dreams in his eyes had come back a man with goals. I just didn’t know what those goals were.
“So—” he called out from his room, “move it, Spud—what brings you by, Laney?”
“I responded to a call this morning.”
Spud rocketed out of the hall, claws clicking on the wooden floor as he hit the living room, carved a tight circle then skidded into my legs. He lifted his head so I could pet it without bending, and raced over to the fireplace, where he pounced onto a basket of toys.
“So it’s work?” Ryder had changed into a long-sleeved Henley and jeans, but was still barefoot.
“It’s work.”
He dropped down on the couch, pushed one of the pillows out of the way, and extended one hand.
“Have a seat.”
When he smiled like that it was hard to remember work. Ryder might have been gone for a long time, but my fantasies of him seemed to have no expiration date.
“I won’t be long, thanks.” I remained standing and pulled the notebook out of my pocket.
“Where were you yesterday evening around six o’clock?”
He frowned. “I’m a suspect for something?”
“You might be.”
“Pretty sure I haven’t broken any laws, unless indecency counts.” There was that smile again, tugging all the needs in me like unknotted strings.
Okay, maybe he hadn’t changed all that much from the high school boy I had fallen for.
Spud bombed back over, a stuffed moose in his mouth. He stopped at my feet, dropped it, and sat, tail wagging.
I patted his head again and that seemed to be the signal he’d been waiting for. He bolted back to his toy box.
“It’s not against the law to be naked on your own property,” I said. “As long as your neighbors don’t complain you’re in the clear. So where were you last night?”
“Around six? Jump Off’s. Had dinner. Burger: double cheese, double onion, and a couple beers.”
“No fries?”
He shrugged.
“Do you have something against fries?”
“Does this crime involve fries?” He was still smiling. I was trying not to.
“Answer the question, Mr. Bailey.”
“I wouldn’t accuse them of murder, but it’s rather suspicious how many heart attacks they leave in their wake.” He raised one eyebrow.
I nodded slightly. Well played.
“Were you with a date?”
“As in fruit?”
“As in person.”
Spud was back. Dropped a stuffed fish this time. I petted his head, and he was off.
“Steve—a guy who wants me to convert a space in Tillamook—sat with me for a bit.”
“How long did Steve stay?”
“He left around eight, I think.”
“And how long did you stay?”
“One o’clock or so.”
“Pretty late on a Sunday night.”
“I didn’t have anywhere to be in the morning. What’s this about, Laney? What happened?”
Spud arrived at a trot and dropped a cow at my feet. I knew the routine. I scratched behind his ears and Spud dashed off again.
“Did you see Dan Perkin there?”
He frowned and settled back a bit, his body relaxing into the couch, one arm out across the back of it, the other with his hand loose at the side of his leg. People who wore guns tended to do that: keep their hands clear so they could get to weapons in short order. Maybe the city boy did it to keep his cell phone hand free.
“I saw him. He came in right after me. Yelled at Chris for a while.”
“Did you hear what they were talking about?”
“The same thing everyone is talking about—the Rhubarb Rally. You are starting to freak me out, Delaney. What happened?”
“Let me finish and I’ll tell you.”
“Is everyone okay?” Gone was the easy smile and easy body language, though he hadn’t moved. He was taut, alert, coiled to spring into action and fix whatever was wrong. I didn’t know how he did it. He hadn’t moved, and yet in the span of a breath he’d gone from easygoing to dangerous.