Page 81 of Skin and Bones

Walt hmmphed again and went back to his crossword.

Deidre rolled her eyes at men and mouthed, “Men,” and then she opened the oven and took out a casserole that smelled like heaven. Once she’d put it on the table in front she said, “Walt, why don’t you tell Mabel what you told me a bit ago. About Clint Harrison.”

That got my attention. “What about him?” I asked.

“He drove by the house,” he reported, putting aside his crossword so Deidre could put his plate in front of him. “Slowed down so I was able to get a good look at him.”

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” I said. Walt’s mouth quirked in his version of a smile.

“Hank,” Dottie yelled. “Get in here. The food is ready and I’m starving.”

Hank entered the kitchen from the living room, his seersucker suit pristine, his cheeks rosy and his white eyebrows in need of a trim. “You’ve made the front page,” he announced, handing me the Grimm Island Gazette. “‘Local Woman Escapes Corrupt Deputy.’ I have a mind to go down to the Gazette and talk face-to-face with Loretta Hampton. She made it sound like you and Mark Reynolds were having a leisurely stroll at the docks rather than him kidnapping you and you whomping him in the face with a fishing sinker.”

“Isn’t Loretta Hampton his grandniece?” Deidre asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hank said. “Right is right and wrong is wrong. And her uncle is a dishonest pig who deserves to rot in prison. I’m tired of having corrupt cops on this island. It makes me want to be on the bench again. I’d send them away for life.”

“Have some breakfast casserole, Hank,” Dottie said, pulling out a chair for him. “Virginia Gerber brought it by this morning. She’s an excellent cook.”

“People are still bringing food by?” I asked, noticing there were an abundance of fresh baked breads and desserts on my countertop.

“For as long as something is newsworthy at this house there will be a casserole,” Deidre said. “It’s the Southern way.”

“And the only way to find out what’s really happening,” Bea said. “Casserole delivery is the oldest trick in the book. Kind of like women’s prayer meetings. I used to belong to one of those at the Methodist church. All those ladies would get together and gossip about everyone on the island and then ask us to pray for that person at the end of the meeting so it sounded legitimate instead of like they were spreading people’s business.”

Dottie snorted out a laugh but didn’t disagree.

“Where’s Dash?” I asked.

“Went to the station,” Deidre said. “Said he needed to be there when Reynolds was processed. Left at dawn but said he’d be back.” She peered at me over her glasses. “How are those wrists? You look like you’ve been in a wrestling match with a gator.”

I glanced down at my bandaged arms. “They sting a little, but I’m fine.”

“Well, sit down before you fall down,” she said. “Your feet must be killing you.”

I didn’t argue, sliding into a chair as Dottie placed a steaming mug of coffee before me. The rich aroma hit my nose, instantly making my eyes water with pleasure. And then she put a plate in front of me heaped high with breakfast casserole, banana bread, bacon, and what looked like banana pudding.

“Banana pudding?” I asked.

“It’s fruit,” she said. “And Walt said he’s getting a toothache so I figured he’d want something soft.”

The kitchen door swung open, and Dash entered, the weariness of a sleepless night evident in his posture. His uniform was as crisp as ever, but shadows darkened the skin beneath his eyes, and a day’s worth of stubble shadowed his jaw, giving him that rugged, intense look that somehow made him even more handsome. When his gaze found mine across the kitchen, something in his expression softened, the fatigue momentarily vanishing from his features.

“Good morning,” he said, his eyes taking in my dress with a flash of surprised appreciation that sent heat rushing to my cheeks. “You look…”

“Like a woman who escaped a kidnapping and beat a deputy senseless with a fishing weight?” I supplied.

His lips quirked. “I was going to say recovered, but your version has more dramatic flair.”

“Have some brunch,” Dottie insisted, already loading a plate. “You look dead on your feet.”

I had an odd moment where I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. It was such a surreal scene in my kitchen—the Silver Sleuths gathered around the table, Dash coming home from a hard day’s work, all that was missing was him kissing me on the head in greeting and a couple of kids to run in and hug him around the neck.

“Mabel?” Dottie said. “Mabel did you hear me?”

I shook my head, trying to get the vision out of my head.

“Maybe she’s addled,” Hank said. “Could’ve hit her head last night. She should go back to bed.”

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