A High-End Finish(57)
“Yeah.” Hoping the subject was closed, I walked to the freezer. “I thought we could have chicken for dinner. Do you mind making a salad?”
“I’ll be happy to. But let’s just circle back around to Mac Sullivan for a minute.”
“I figured you might say that.” I pulled out a package of cut-up chicken pieces. I had planned to be sensible and grill them, but now I decided to fry them in a thick cornflake batter. I rarely ate such fattening meals, preferring healthier fruits and vegetables, lean meats, and fish, but lately I’d been going for high fat and calories. Clearly, murder wasn’t good for my diet.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Jane said as she swirled her wineglass. “Mac Sullivan is very cute and hunky and interesting, and he’s a famous author, so it would be awesome to have him living nearby. But don’t you wonder why he would want to live in a small apartment over your garage?”
“I did wonder. But he explained that he needs a place to stay until the restoration of his new home is completed.”
“Has it even started yet?”
“No, and it probably won’t begin for another month. And, yes, I’m bidding to do the work.”
“Why doesn’t he just hire you?”
“Actually, he did. But I insisted that he look at some other companies.”
She shook her head at me. “Of course you did. He’ll hire you, anyway, if he’s smart. You’re the best contractor in town. No, the county. Maybe even the whole state.”
“That might be laying it on a little thick, but thank you.” I smiled at her. “I love you, too.”
She frowned. “Nobody’s lived in the old lighthouse mansion for thirty years or more. Restoring it could take months or even a year.”
“You’re right.” I began to wash the chicken pieces. “At least six to eight months. I’ll know more once I see the inside.”
“So he might be living here all that time.”
“Maybe.”
“Are you sure you want someone staying here for that length of time?”
I glanced over at her. “Um, we’re talking about MacKintyre Sullivan, right? The author? Have you met him?”
“Of course I’ve met him. Oh, you mean because he’s so adorable? Hmm.” She found a head of fresh lettuce in the fridge and set it down near the small sink on the kitchen island. “Okay, I can see how having someone like him nearby would be nice.”
“Nice?” I shot her a look as I patted the chicken dry.
“Sorry. I can’t seem to come up with the right words to describe him.”
“That’s okay,” I said, chuckling as I prepped the coating mixture. “I can.”
“You like him.”
“I do.” I stopped working and turned to her. “He rescued me when I fell off my bike. He stayed with me, drove me back home, carried me up the stairs. It was sweet. And then he talked to the police and I really think he’s responsible for Chief Jensen’s change of heart about me. Mac is funny and kind and gorgeous. And now he’s going to live right up there.” I pointed out the window toward the garage apartment. “Yippee.”
“Chief Jensen is gorgeous, too,” she said softly.
“He is indeed.” I met her gaze. “How lucky are we that two such handsome unattached men have moved to town so recently?”
“Pretty darn lucky,” she said, and we both grinned.
As we talked, I dipped a piece of chicken into the egg mixture, then tossed it into the ziplock bag filled with crushed cornflakes and seasoned flour. Once I had half of the chicken pieces in the baggie, I zipped it closed and shook it until each piece of chicken was completely coated.
“I just hope Mac doesn’t hurt you,” Jane said, pulling a bright red tomato out of the vegetable basket.
“Hurt me? Why do you think he would hurt me?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She turned away from me and fiddled nervously with the utensils next to the chopping block built into the island in my kitchen. “It’s probably stupid.”
“Maybe. But now I’m curious, so please tell me what you’re thinking.”
She didn’t make eye contact with me as she took a quick sip of wine. “Lizzie and I were talking about Mac.”
My lips twisted into a disgruntled pout. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”
“Just listen.” She moved closer so she could speak in a low voice, as though someone might be eavesdropping. “Don’t you think it’s weird that he writes murder mysteries and he just moved here and already there are two murders?”
I stared at her, truly stunned. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“You’re right.” She walked back to the sink, shaking her head. “It’s a ludicrous theory.”
“You’re damn right it is.” Exasperated, I tossed the stuffed baggie down on the counter. “Where in the world does Lizzie come up with this stuff? I thought she loved Mac. Why would she ever believe he was capable of murder?”
Before Jane could speak, I held up both my hands to cut her off. “And don’t try to pretend this was your idea. Lizzie is the original conspiracy theorist and this is right up her alley. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, because I want to know why she would say something so crazy. And I don’t want her spreading it around town, either. What’s the deal with her? Is she jealous that I met Mac first?” I held up my hands again. “Okay, that was a stupid thing to say and I didn’t mean it. I love Lizzie, but I’m mystified as to why she would ever say something like that.”