Page 27 of Murder By the Millions
“My finances are fine.”
Jason continued, “FYI, I make it a habit to learn about the builders and contractors in a town where I intend to invest time and money, Hardwick, and you, my friend, better hope people don’t get a load of your past. Memories of one’s mistakes rarely fade.” He turned to leave.
Patrick skirted around him and poked him in the chest. “Don’t you dare threaten me.”
Quick as a flash, Jason seized Patrick’s arm and yanked while kicking out with his left leg, knocking Patrick to the floor, chin first. Patrick scrambled to gain purchase but faltered and landed on his knees.
“Hardwick,” Jason said, his gaze steely. “Stay down and listen up. I don’t mean anyone harm in this town. I intend to build the best mall I can with as little impact on the environment as possible. This is a passion project of mine.”
“Why do you care?” Patrick snarled. “Do you think if you build it, she will come?”
Was he talking about Delilah Brenneman? Why on earth would Jason think a mall would lure her here? Why not build a home with magnificent grounds, like the Sugarbaker estate? Or a beautiful villa with a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains?
“She’s not coming,” Patrick continued. “She’s never coming back to you. De—”
“Don’t!” Jason aimed a finger at Patrick. “Do not utter her name.”
Patrick’s eyes blazed with anger.
Jason caught sight of Tegan and me and registered our shocked faces. Civilly, he said, “I’m sorry you had to witness the fracas, ladies. I promise it won’t happen again.” He neatened his tie and jacket and strode out the door.
Tegan knelt beside Patrick. “What were you thinking?”
He rubbed his chin. “Sorry. I’m not typically a bruiser. I don’t get into fights. I’m not sure what came over me. But there’s something about the guy—”
“What was he referring to in your past?”
“It’s nothing.”
But he refused to make eye contact, meaning it was clearly something.
CHAPTER6
“Can’t repeat the past? … Why of course you can!”
—Jay Gatsby in F. Scott Fitzgerald’sThe Great Gatsby
Though the Brewery was a casual place, I decided to dress to impress. After all, my dinner with Jason was business. In keeping with my understated style, I chose a pair of black linen pants, sling-back flats, and a simple white silk blouse. Plus I spruced up my makeup with a dab of lip gloss and a dash of mascara. Nothing too dramatic.
When I was ready to leave the house, I checked myself in the mirror, centered my gold Celtic knot necklace at the hollow of my neck—I’d opted not to don stud earrings—and then I added kibble to Darcy’s bowl, kissed him on the nose, and said I’d be back soon. Walking out the door, I reminded him to be a good boy, and he mewed. I didn’t speakcat,but I figured he was agreeing.
After a long day, the walk to the Brewery was heavenly. There wasn’t a hint of a summer breeze. The air was delicious.The vista of the Blue Ridge Mountains to my left brought a smile to my face as I remembered my last hike there with Zach. How we’d enjoyed the spicy aroma of the pines.
I approached the restaurant, gripped the door handle, and braced myself for noise before venturing inside. Like many restaurants in Bramblewood, the place was rustic and not very big, meaning it could get crowded and noisy. High ceilings plus stone floors amplified the sound. The TVs hanging on the walls as well as from suspension rods were playing a Charlotte Knights game, which was making the clamor even louder. The Knights were a minor league baseball team beloved throughout North Carolina. The six-seat bar, where Tegan and I usually sat, was filled to capacity. The two bartenders were feverishly manning the dozen beer taps affixed to the wall.
In addition to the three rectangular bar-style tables fitted with stools and a couple of tall tables sans stools, for diners who preferred to stand, the owner had added six tables for two, each abutting the far wall. Next year, he promised, he was adding a rooftop bar. The small tables were usually difficult to score for a reservation, but Jason had. So had Reika Moore, who was seated at the nearest one.
I nodded to her as I passed by. She raised a bottle of sparkling water in response.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said to Jason, taking my seat.
“You’re right on time. I was early. What would you like to drink?” He handed me the beverage menu.
“I’ll take Oly’s pale ale.”
“Is it good?”
“All the beer here is excellent.”
