Page 41 of Dead Men Tell No Shells

Unfortunately, deciding something and actually doing it were two very different things. I sat at my kitchen table with my laptop open, a fresh document waiting on the screen, and absolutely nothing to show for the last twenty minutes except a sentence about a woman walking into a café. I’d deleted it twice, rewritten it once, and then sat there wondering whether the fictional woman should order tea instead of coffee once I managed to get her through the door.

Clearly, I was on a roll.

Sylvester appeared at the open back door, orange tail held high, carrying something in his mouth. He deposited it on the mat with the satisfaction of a hunter who’d brought home a deer, then looked at me expectantly. I leaned sideways to inspect his offering.

A sock.

Of course it was a sock. It was almost always a sock, a bra, or the occasional flip-flop, and I was beginning to suspect the cat had a more active social life than I did.

“That is not yours, nor is it mine,” I informed him. Sylvester blinked. “I’m putting it aside for when the owner comes looking for it. If nobody does, I’ll ask around. You can’t just keep stealing everyone’s laundry.”

He sat down and began washing one paw, apparently satisfied that the matter had been resolved to everyone’s benefit.

I fetched a small basket from the laundry room and dropped the sock into it with the others. The basket was becoming a collection of Hartwell Cove’s missing property, and I was beginning to think I should put a sign on the porch advertising a lost-and-found service instead of just asking around the neighborhood. I could even charge a small administrative fee. At the rate Sylvester was going, I might make enough to buy a new reusable coffee filter, maybe even one of those gold plated ones. My phone buzzed on the table before I could finish pursuing that thought.

It was from Josiah, and I opened it with trembling fingers.

I have a little time this morning if you’re available. I’d like to talk about what you remembered yesterday, and I owe you an apology for how much of our conversation happened while I was working. Would you meet me for coffee? Somewhere public, if that’s more comfortable for you.

My fingers tightened around the phone, and an uncomfortable flutter started beneath my ribs. Seeing his name on the screen had been one thing. Reading his careful, considerate words was something else entirely. For a moment, I was back in high school, waiting for a message from him and feeling that ridiculous rush of happiness whenever he reached out.

I read it twice. The careful wording was very Josiah. Even when we were teenagers, he’d been the sort of person who tried to think three steps ahead, weighing the consequences of every possible choice. It was one of the things I’d admired about him, right up until he’d used that same careful consideration to decide that I was better off without him.

Last night’s confession had left my emotions in a maelstrom. Josiah had never stopped loving me, he’d told me, and he still wanted the possibility of a future together. I’d spent years wondering whether I’d ever crossed his mind, only to discover that he’d been carrying his feelings for me all along. Part of me wanted to demand answers for every unanswered question I’d thought of after what he’d left last night. Another part simply wanted to see him again, to find out whether sitting across from him without a crime scene or an emotional confession hanging between us might help me make sense of what I was feeling.

That was why I accepted. Not because I was ready to forgive him, and certainly not because I’d decided to give us another chance. I simply needed to understand what happened to me when I was around him now.

Coffee is fine. Where?

His answer came a minute later, suggesting Dixie’s. I stared at the screen, then glanced toward the wall I shared with my own kitchen and remembered that Dixie’s was a short walk from Harbor Lights Salon, where Ricky would almost certainly be ready to provide a running commentary on the sheriff’s every movement. Dixie’s was also where everyone went when they wanted to hear the latest news, and the whole town was already talking about us. Still, it was neutral territory, and I couldn’t reasonably expect Josiah to meet me somewhere private when I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to be alone with him. Dixie’s it was then. Now we just needed to settle a time, so I crafted my reply around that.

Dixie’s at ten?

Ten works. I’ll see you there.

I set my phone down and rubbed my thumb along the edge of the table.

This was coffee. Just coffee, I reminded myself. We weren’t getting back together, planning a future, or even agreeing to have another conversation after this one. He wanted to talk about the case, and I had information he needed. Anything else was simply two people who’d once known each other very well trying to figure out how to speak to each other now. That was all.

I repeated that to myself a few times while I finished my coffee, checked the time, and got ready to leave. It didn’t help nearly as much as I’d hoped.

Dixie’s was busy enough to make me wonder whether the entire town had decided that Monday morning was the ideal time to discuss the murder of its only bank manager over coffee. The breakfast crowd had mostly cleared out, but a handful of regulars remained in the booths, nursing coffee and speaking in low voices that became noticeably quieter whenever someone new walked through the door.

The lingering smell of fresh coffee, bacon, and toast was comforting. The conversations weren’t. I’d been so nervous about meeting Josiah that I’d skipped breakfast entirely, telling myself I’d eat after our talk. Now, with the aroma of bacon drifting from the kitchen, my stomach made it abundantly clear that it had no intention of cooperating with my plans.

I’d barely stepped inside when June looked up from the counter and gave me a smile that was just a little too knowing.

“Morning, Max. Your usual?”

“Please. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ask me anything about the sheriff.”

June put a hand to her chest. “Would I do that?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough.” She reached for a cup. “But I reserve the right to be curious.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”