Murder Takes the High Road(37)

“Then it was especially nice of you to make this trip with her.”

“I wouldn’t leave her to do this alone,” he said grimly.

“Well, she seems to be enjoying herself.” I couldn’t have said whether Yvonne was enjoying herself or not. I kind of suspected she was the type of person who took pleasure in not enjoying herself. I also couldn’t have said why I felt obliged to make inane social comments.

Maybe Ben agreed because he didn’t bother to answer. After a moment he said, “Are you and John...?”

“Are me and John what?” I realized what he meant. “No. I met him the other night for the first time. I’m still trying to figure him out.”

“I see.” Ben was watching me steadily. “I got the feeling there might be something between you.”

“Between me and John? No.” The suggestion brought warmth to my face. To change the subject, I said, “Trevor and I knew each other from before.”

“I know,” Ben said. “They talk about you a lot.”

I winced. “I bet.”

Ben offered a faint smile. “Mostly Vance talks about you. Trevor spends a lot of time apologizing.”

“Apologizing for what?”

“Knowing you before he knew Vance.” He was sharing the joke, but I didn’t find it all that amusing.

“That’s about what I’d expect.” Although, in truth, I had no expectations for what went on between Vance and Trevor. I still couldn’t understand what Trevor saw in him. Okay, not true. Trevor had explained to me what he saw in Vance. Vance was sexier than me, more romantic than me, more interesting than me, more adventurous than me, more playful than me, more fun than me... It had been quite a list.

And the delivery had an element of blunt instrument about it. Like Professor Plum in the Library, I hadn’t seen it coming. Nor was it a list of things you could really argue with. Even if you were so inclined.

I wasn’t.

“I think you had a lot of guts coming on this trip,” Ben said.

“I’m not sure guts is the word for it, but thank you.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder and kissed me.

Yeah, pretty much as described. Not the most graceful of kisses. For one thing, I was still in motion, and for another, I was not expecting it at all, and my reaction was an instinctive duck at the large approaching object in my peripheral vision. Ben’s lips landed in what was mostly a glancing blow, and I had a brief impression of mouthwash and urgency.

“Uh...oh...hi,” I said. I kissed him back, equally clumsy, and mostly out of politeness. The topic of Trevor and Vance had not put me in an amorous mood. Anything but.

Ben didn’t seem to notice the awkwardness.

“When this is all over, I’d like to get to know you better,” he said. “If it’s all right with you.”

“Well, sure,” I said. “But don’t you live in Seattle?”

“Yes. I’m planning on making some changes though, after this trip.”

It sounded a bit stern, the way he said it, and I made a noncommittal noise. I’m all for change and growth in one’s life, but in my experience, it’s not easy to jettison the past. Besides, I had a feeling Yvonne would not be thrilled about Ben moving away. I wouldn’t have been completely surprised to learn they lived together, but no. I had verified that from the group bios after dinner the first night. They both lived in Seattle but on different sides of the city.

I wasn’t sure that different sides of the country would be far enough from Yvonne, though maybe that was unfair. Traveling can be stressful and not everyone was at their best in the role of tourist.

“Should we head back?” Ben asked.

“Sure,” I said.

He held my hand part of the way down the path back toward the car park, and I let him although I wasn’t really comfortable. It wasn’t that I minded holding hands, but kiss or no kiss, I barely knew Ben and I didn’t feel like the needle had really moved on our relationship. In fact, “relationship” was putting it too strongly, in my opinion. I guess there was nothing like an ugly breakup to make you gun-shy about new possibilities.

“Do you really go along with this crazy theory that there’s something suspicious about Rose’s death?” he asked as we were having lunch at the Wee Swally Victorian Tea Room after we’d hiked back to the village. His dark eyes were bright with amusement.

“No. Not really.” I popped the last bite of Scottish rarebit—cheddar and egg on rounds of toast—into my mouth and then had to stop to chew. “I mean, I will grant that it’s a coincidence Rose was going around babbling about mysterious death and then ends up suddenly dying.”

Ben wrinkled his nose in distaste. “It’s not so great a coincidence. The first time I saw her, I wondered what a woman that old was doing traveling on her own.”

A little bit sexist, a little bit ageist, but as things turned out, he had a point.

I said, “If this was a mystery novel, Rose’s death would definitely be tied in to something much larger and more sinister.”

“That’s why I don’t like fiction. Now, if either Sally or Daya drops dead, then I might consider the possibility that there’s something sinister going on.”

“Daya?”