Page 63 of Dangerous Secret

When Pressley appeared, Grayson opened the back door. “Good morning, sir.” Pressley ignored him as he slid into the car. “Rude,” Grayson muttered after he closed the door.

As soon as they were on the way to the mayor’s office, Pressley got on the phone. “Hey, babe. Something came up. I’m not going to make it to lunch.” He listened, then, “I know. I was looking forward to eating…you.” He chuckled. “Let’s make it dinner instead. I’ll be real hungry by then if you get my drift.” Another chuckle.

Grayson inwardly rolled his eyes. Pressley sure thought he was clever with his innuendos. They arrived at town hall, where the mayor’s office was located, and Grayson parked in a space close to the entrance.

Pressley waited for him to exit the car and open the back door. “Be here when I get back.”

“Yes, sir.” Like he’d go for a joyride or something.

Pressley’s meeting lasted an hour, and their next stop turned out to be the police station. Again, Grayson was ordered to be here when Pressley returned. He was inside for twenty minutes, and from the station, they went to the tax office.

On arriving there, Pressley made a call. “Come outside.”

A few minutes later a man Grayson recognized from photos he’d obtained as Dale Jenkins—who he suspected had been involved in stealing Jankowski’s and Pickens’s homes—came out.

“Wait for me outside,” Pressley said.

“Yes, sir.” He got out as Jenkins slid into the back with Pressley. He wanted to kick himself for not bugging the car. He’d remedy that tomorrow. The two men talked for ten minutes, then Jenkins exited the car and walked past Grayson without looking at him. Jenkins’s expression was sour. Had he been ordered to steal someone else’s home?

Grayson returned to the car, and Pressley directed him to go back home. When they arrived, he said, “Go to the kitchen and tell Anders to make you a sandwich. I won’t need you again until five.”

Grayson had no idea who Anders was, but he was all for getting the chance to talk to members of Pressley’s household. Turned out Anders was the chef, a good one Grayson decided after he was seated at the biggest kitchen island he’d ever seen and eating a sub and homemade chips.

“Best meatball sub I’ve ever had,” he said. Once he’d introduced himself as Benny’s cousin and Pressley’s temporary driver, Anders had treated him like an old friend. Grayson estimated him to be in his late sixties, and best of all, he liked to talk.

“My Italian mama, God rest her soul, taught me how tomake the world’s best meatballs. Mr. Pressley dines out a lot, and when he does eat in, he likes fancy food. I make the meatballs for the boy. He loves them.”

“The boy?” Gray said, letting Anders believe he didn’t know who Tyler was.

“Mr. Pressley’s son. It’s not good that his mama isn’t here. A boy needs his mama.”

“How old is he?”

“Five.”

“A five-year-old definitely needs his mother. Where is she?”

Anders took Grayson’s empty plate. “She—” He shook his head. “It’s not our business, and I talk too much.”

“How long have you worked for Mr. Pressley?” He looked around the kitchen. “Seems like a great place to work.”

“Three years, and it’s a fine kitchen.”

But do you like cooking for Pressley, and what secrets do you know?He wouldn’t push for more now. Hopefully, Anders would get talkative again over the next few days.

“Anders!” Tyler ran into the kitchen. “I’m hungry.”

“Good, because I have your lunch ready for you, young Mr. Pressley. Climb up on that stool.” Anders placed a plate with two meatballs, a slice of buttered bread and apple wedges in front of Tyler.

“Oh, boy,” Tyler said, clapping his hands. “Did you know this is my favorite lunch?”

Anders smiled. “I sure did.”

“Did you have meatballs, too?” Tyler asked, looking at Grayson with his mother’s sea blue eyes.

“Sure did. They were my favorite lunch, too.”

“I forgot your name.”

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