Thirty-Six and a Half Motives
Page 7

I forced a smile of my own. “He’s been pretty busy.”
“We heard about the shake-up in the courthouse. Mr. Deveraux is exactly what this county needs.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking a step backward. “I think so, too.” I only hoped that he stuck around to help fix the county . . . and that he decided to stay with me, too.
I was confident in my plan up until I reached the outer door to his office, at which point I came to the conclusion that it was a terrible idea. He was going to think I was rushing him. I was about to turn and run—literally—when the door opened and Mason’s assistant, Kaylee, stepped out.
“Rose! I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks.” She glanced down at the bag in my hand. “Oh, looks like you brought Mr. Deveraux lunch.”
“Yeah . . .” I glanced down at the bag. “He’s probably already eaten.”
“Actually, he hasn’t. I was about to go pick up something for him. He’s in his office if you want to go on in.”
“I don’t want to bother him if he’s in the middle of something important.”
“Don’t be silly.” She laughed, turning around and walking back into the office reception area. “He always wants to see you.”
That used to be true. I wasn’t so sure about this time. “Okay . . .”
I followed her inside, walked over to his partially open office door and stopped at the threshold. He sat at his desk, bent over his computer, a legal pad and a pen next to him, forehead furrowed with concentration. I watched him for several seconds, my heart in my throat, worrying about how he would react to my sudden appearance.
His gaze lifted, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw me. “Rose.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead or make an appointment.” It felt weird saying that. Never in the entire time I’d known him had I made an appointment with his assistant.
He closed the lid to his laptop and got to his feet. “Don’t be silly. You don’t have to call ahead.”
“I . . . uh . . .” I lifted the bag of food, still standing in the doorway. “I brought you lunch. I heard how busy you’ve been, and I figured you probably weren’t feeding yourself.” Way to sound like a stalker.
A soft smile spread across his face. “You’ve always kept me well fed.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Somebody has to take care of you.”
But truth be told, taking care of him was what had gotten me into this situation in the first place. Well, it had kept me in it anyway.
“Come in,” he said, but there was a stiffness in his voice, a formality I wasn’t used to hearing. At least not when he was talking to me.
“I actually had a purpose for coming.” I walked into the room and held out the food. “But I figured I’d bring you food, too.”
He set the bag on his desk and removed the large container.
“Pork chops and a salad . . . and a slice of apple pie.”
He glanced at me, his expression guarded. “My favorites.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you, Rose.”
“You’re welcome.”
He walked over to me, and for a moment I held my breath, hoping he would take me in his arms and kiss me. Wishing he would tell me that he couldn’t live without me and that he wanted to try again. But instead, he shut the door, then gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Do you want to take a seat?”
I nodded, the lump rising in my throat again. “Yeah.”
I sat in the chair closest to the window. The blind slats were tilted so Mason could see out but anyone in the building across the street couldn’t see inside. I couldn’t blame him. Neely Kate and I had discovered that Joe’s sister, Kate, had rented the apartment across the street to spy on Mason’s office. The apartment had been all but empty except for a few piles of junk, a pair of binoculars, a wealth of files about Mason, and the kind of gun that means business.
He sat next to me, but I saw him cast a quick glance at the container he’d placed on his desk.
“Mason, I’m not here to talk about you and me. I’m here with legal questions. So if you want to eat while we talk, please feel free.”
He grimaced. “You don’t mind?”
“No. You should eat it while it’s hot.”
He fished the utensils out of the bag and dug into the salad. “Legal questions. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No more than usual,” I said with a wry grin.
He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he took a bite.
“I’m here to see if you have an update on Glenn Stout or on what’s going on with J.R.”
Guilt filled his eyes as he lowered his fork. “I should have called you to fill you in.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“No,” he said softly. “I’m not sure you do.” He paused. “I wanted to call you with an update, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I’m still sorting things out.”
“I understand.”
He looked into my eyes. “But you’re still a citizen of the county, not to mention the victim of a crime. It was my job to fill you in on the proceedings.”
My heart sunk, but I had no one to blame but myself.
“Have you found out anything about Glenn Stout?” I asked.
“No. I’ve notified the clerks to call me directly if anyone shows up to pick up the money, but there’s been no sign of him.”
I nodded. “Carter thinks he’ll wait until things die down and then try to collect it unnoticed.”
His jaw tightened. “You’ve been talking to Carter Hale?”
“He was my attorney, Mason,” I said, trying not to get irritated. “I had no idea what was going on, and I needed to ask someone.”
“Joe hasn’t told you?”
“It’s Joe. What do you think he tells me? The information I get from him is the equivalent of him telling me not to worry my pretty little head.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He stood and moved to the back of his room, running a hand over his head. “I should have called you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” I said, suddenly pissed. “If you didn’t want to talk to me, then you shouldn’t have called.” I got to my feet. “This was a mistake.”