Page 68 of Dead & Breakfast
“What are you talking about?” Sawyer said. “There’s no way the mayor would change his mind about your type.”
“Oh my, I think there’s been a miscommunication.” Sal’s fingers danced gleefully before him. “And I’m not even responsible this time. How fun!”
“Look, we didn’t hurt the mayor, okay? We were doing something else when he was killed,” said Luke.
“Yeah that’s right! We have an alibi!” Sawyer puffed up hischest. “We were over at city hall taking back what his assistant stole from us.”
“Oh my god, Sawyer. Don’t just admit it.”
“They’re not cops, you said so!” Sawyer turned to face Arthur and Sal again, pointing an accusatory finger. “You have to tell us if you’re cops…right?”
Sal shuddered. “Ugh. To think you’d mistake us for one of them. This is worse than the time Anna Wintour thought my Versace sunglasses were knockoffs.”
“Theywereknockoffs. But we’re not cops.” Arthur cleared his throat and stepped forward, hoping to return the conversation to the matter at hand. “Out of curiosity, what…uh…did you take from city hall?”
“Only what was rightfully ours to begin with,” said Luke.
“Yeah, that lady took our paint cans!” Drops of spit flew from Sawyer’s mouth as he spoke. “Took Brody’s whole backpack. And you know what? I don’t think she was allowed.”
“Yeah, it’s not like she’s a cop. She didn’t have a warrant or anything. We know our rights!” Luke glared at Arthur.
“Just a reminder that we are also not cops,” Arthur said tentatively. It wasn’t the answer he’d been seeking, but Luke and Sawyer were beginning to fill in some of the gaps. At least now he knew who had broken into Quinn Clark’s office and why. Perhaps it was all connected. “Do you know how Brody felt about his backpack being confiscated? He must have been angry if he broke into city hall to get it back.”
“Huh?” Luke scrunched his face. “He wasn’t even with us—”
Sawyer coughed loudly.
“I mean…ifwe were there, he wouldn’t have been with us. You know…hypothetically.”
“Yeah, hypothetically, Brody had to go home because of hiscurfew.” Sawyer shifted his weight back and forth, glancing around at nothing in particular. “Does that answer your questions? Or do you still think we had something to do with the mayor’s death?”
“You misunderstand.” Arthur shook his head. “We’re not here about what happened to the mayor. This is about what happened to Brody Young.”
The troublemakers’ demeanors changed almost immediately. Sawyer’s eyes went wide and Luke’s shoulders slumped.
“What do you meanwhat happened to Brody?” All the bluster had gone out of Luke’s voice, and he suddenly sounded as young as he was.
“He was attacked,” Arthur said slowly, watching them for any signs of guilt. “He was in critical condition the last we heard.”
Sawyer swore, then turned and began shoving paint into his bag. “We gotta go see him.”
“Will they let us in this late?” Luke asked as he helped his friend pack.
“I may not be a master of reductive reasoning,” Sal began in a low voice, and Arthur was so thrown by the boys’ reactions he didn’t bother to correct him, “but I don’t think they hurt Brody.”
Arthur nodded as the boys picked up their own bikes and began to pedal toward the hospital. It was possible the boys were lying, but he’d seen genuine surprise and concern in their eyes upon learning of their friend’s condition. It was a relief to rule them out, but it left Arthur with no obvious suspects. Perhaps the graffiti had nothing at all to do with why someone had hurt Brody, or why Brody had killed the mayor.
“It sounds like they were the masterminds behind the break-in at city hall. At the very least, we may be able to lure Quinn into a conversation with that information.”
“Brilliant thinking, darling. She wasn’t particularly keen on theidea of brunch when I extended the invitation, but this ought to do the trick. We simply must text her and dangle this juicy carrot.”
“You extended the invitation? When did you have time for that?” Arthur asked as he extracted the cell phone from his pocket.
“When you were off snooping at the dentist’s, I made myself busy. Nora, and I suspect Quinn now, will be round the Iris Inn tomorrow at ten.”
Arthur handed the phone to Sal and watched as his husband typed out a message.
Hello, dear Quinn! Have you given any thought to our brunch invitation? We heard some delicious gossip about that break-in at your office we think you might be interested in. We’ll tell you everything over mimosas! Xoxo Sal
