Page 23 of Hiss and Make Up
She could maintain her composure in the face of any real-life threat. A viper den, for example. But Marc’s refusal to follow her overzealous train of thought was apparently too much for her.
“No one broke in. They took some welding supplies and a few sculptures from my dad’s workshop. It happened right after I placed an ad online to sell some stuff. Had a few replies but only one person showed up to take a look. I figured one of the no-shows got the address and knew how to make a quick buck off the stuff. I filed a report, but you know how that goes."
Sierra nodded, but her eyes narrowed. “Wait, you said they broke intoyourplace, but then you said it was welding stuff from your dad’s workshop. Are you and your mom both living there now?”
“Mom didn’t want to stay in the house without him, but she didn’t want to sell the place. We made a deal. She moved into a townhouse. No yard to mow and lots of neighbors to talk their ears off. And I moved back from New Orleans and bought the house from her.”
“Smart.”
It was more than smart. It was a perfect situation for him. He got to live outside of the city with wide open space, fresh air, and a killer view of the stars. The half hour commute for games and work wasn’t bad at all and was more than worth living in Breaux Bridge.
The waitress arrived with their order. Sierra dove into her mess of chili, peppers, and fries. Marc tried to hide a smile when she licked a stray bit of chili from the side of her mouth. Same old Sierra. The grace and manners of a coyote, but still as cute as anything going.
“Back to this missing stuff,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food. “Was it worth a lot?”
“Not really. But they took a couple of undecorated pelicans my dad made for that big citywide campaign. Remember those?”
“Oh, yeah! A bunch of businesses put bids on them to sit outside their buildings.”
“Yep, those.”
“And weren’t they all decorated by local artists and kids and stuff? I remember that now. Don’t they still have one out in front of this place? I completely forgot your dad made those.”
“I don’t care about the missing supplies, but I want those pelicans back. I didn’t even tell Mom or Denise they were stolen. They’d be crushed. So I offered a thousand dollar reward for them and ran a notice in the paper.”
“A thousand bucks!” Sierra stared at him, her eyes wide and hungry. “For some moldy old pelicans?”
“They’re sentimental.”
“Sentimental, my butt.”
He should have known better than to plead sentimentality to her. She never kept anything to remember her own mom, and he remembered her hating the pictures her dad kept up. He should have expected she wouldn’t understand sentimental pelicans.
She leaned back in the booth, lost in thought. “A thousand for returning them or a thousand for information leading to their return?”
“I think it just says for information. Why?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Nothing, with Sierra, never meant nothing.
“What do you think you’re up to?” he asked.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” She wiped her mouth, this time with an actual napkin. “So, what are you going to do about the snakes?”
“I thought you said you’d get them.”
“I mean about figuring out who put them there.”
“I don’t know. Keep my eyes and ears open, I guess.”
Sierra frowned. “That doesn’t sound very proactive.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, but if someone put them there, don’t you think they’re sending some kind of message?”
“What message?Hey, don’t put your hand in the deck box. That kind of message?”
