Page 23 of Fluffed and Folded

Eli raised his brows. “You know Josie, you’ve met our friends from high school, and you think I’m going to find Darby odd?”

“Fair point,” Tristan said. “But as a former cop, I’m telling you there’s something off there, something pinging on my radar.How deep it goes, how serious it is, I won’t know until I dig into it. But I get the feeling she was hiding something.”

“Her husband is dead,” Eli blurted.

“I know,” Tristan said easily. “Heart attack.”

“He must have been really young,” Eli noted.

“Fifty eight’s not so young,” Tristan returned.

Eli’s eyes bugged. “Her husband was old?”

“Fifty eight’s not so old,” he said now.

“She must have been…” Eli tried to do the math, but Tristan saved him the trouble.

“She was eighteen when they got married.”

Eli’s eyes remained buggy. Eighteen, married to an old guy, widowed as a child bride. “I guess you never can tell about some people.

“What can’t you tell?” Tristan asked. “If they were married as babies and widowed soon after? If they might have committed murder? If they sleepwalk into their tenant’s apartments and have blackout episodes?”

“No, all that’s easy to tell. I meant you never can tell if some people like coconut or find it repulsive.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course the other stuff. She looks so…perfect.”

Tristan snorted. “No such thing. The hidden things I learned about people as a cop would curl your hair.”

Unconsciously, Eli touched his hair. “Maybe I should get a perm.”

“Maybe you should get neutered, save yourself the trouble of a visit to a salon,” Tristan muttered.

“Gee, I’m all kinds of glad to have you here, neighbor. I sure do hope we spend more time bonding over insulting me this way,” Eli said, but he didn’t really mind. He’d always had a self-deprecating sense of humor, and it was kind of nice that Tristan was thawing enough to jostle him. With everyone else, he wasso reserved and silent. In a weird way it seemed like an in to be roasted by him. “I guess I should go check on Darby.”

Tristan didn’t reply.

“Right?” Eli tried, desperately needing or wanting a word of advice. When Tristan put his middle finger and thumb together and made a punting motion toward the door, he figured it was as close as he was going to get.

CHAPTER 14

Eli knocked twice on Darby’s door. Previously he would have given up after the first time, but knowing what he now knew about how rarely she went out, as well as her recent blackouts, he stayed to knock a second time. With more urgency. Eventually she opened the door, blinking at him with a dazed look.

“Did you just wake up?” he asked.

“No,” she said, but it sounded like a question.

The dark shadows like bruises under her eyes did nothing to take away from her attractiveness, and he sighed, annoyed to notice it in the middle of his concern. Her eyes narrowed, picking up on his annoyance but misattributing its meaning to annoyance with her.

“You know you’re the one who knocked on my door, right?”

He puffed a laugh. “Yes. How are you?”

“Good,” she said, another question.

“Tristan moved in.”

She blinked. “He works fast.”

“I don’t think it takes long to pack up ten fake boxes and a few barbells,” he said, which earned a laugh from her that made him smile. He leaned against the jamb. “What are you doing?”

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