Page 88 of The Belle and the Biker

“All right, you talked to Sheriff Buckley this morning. Tell us everything,” Naomi says.

I didn’t tell any of them that, but of course, they know already. It’s Bitter End.

“What do you think of Sheriff Buckley?” I ask her. I don’t want to interfere too much, but I’d love to succeed in fixing the two of them up. I’ve almost filled up my book of good deeds and have another notebook ready to go.

“Don’t change the subject,” she says, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest. Hmm, isn’t she also changing the subject?

“Yeah, spill it,” Daisy says. “We want to know everything.”

“You already know his name was Anthony Perez, unemployed, and address unknown, right?”

They all nod. That was in the story that came out in the news the day he was shot to death, but there were few other details.

“He had a dishonorable discharge from the army a few years ago. He got in a lot of fights, finally assaulted his commanding officer, and did a little time for it. Since then, there’s no record of his employment anywhere, on the books at least. He rented a small trailer in Texas but didn’t seem to be living there. They suspect he might have been dealing drugs or involved in some other illegal activity because he has about a hundred grand in Bitcoin. They’re trying to trace the origin of that money.”

Daisy nods. “Huh. I mean, it all makes sense. He had trouble with authority and some weapons training, but fortunately not enough that he was that accurate, and violent tendencies. And if he was involved in doing shady stuff on the dark web, he’d be super paranoid about anyone having witnessed him committing a crime.”

Chase leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Do they know how he kept tracking you down? Because that was pretty concerning.”

I shake my head. “No, Sheriff Buckley says they’re trying to figure that out, although now that he’s dead, I don’t know how much more they’ll investigate. The original theory was that he was in law enforcement or had a friend in law enforcement, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. If the guy made his money on the dark web, maybe he was super tech savvy and had a way to track me via hacking into an app on my phone.”

We’re working our way through dessert when Mae suddenly stiffens, glares at the door, and grabs her fork.

“No,” Callie and Daisy say at the same time.

I follow Mae’s gaze. My aunt is making her way into the diner.

To forestall a brawl, I quickly hand Rhett’s leash to Chase and hurry over to the front door, where she’s standing with a look of pinched dismay. If Mae and Aunt Hepzibah get within five feet of each other, it’ll be like matter and antimatter, and the resulting explosion will take us all out.

Aunt Hepzibah has purchased a Gucci bag for Tiddlywinks. Tiddlywinks pokes her head out of the bag and greets me with a cheerful squeak. She’s wearing a little Hermes coat and a diamond hair clip.

Rhett barks from the table, and Aunt Hepzibah shoots him a look and clutches Tiddlywinks to her chest.

“I don’t like how your dog looks at my dog,” she says. “He’s a common street thug and nowhere near as sophisticated as my Tiddlywinks.”

Well, of course, any dog will look sophisticated if you wrap it up in diamonds and designer duds. Even Tiddlywinks with her wonky jaw. Tiddlywinks stares up at Aunt Hepzibah with love and worship shining from her eyes, the way she used to look at me. What a ho.

“What brings you to Bitter End?” I ask her.

She shoots me a look of annoyance. “You left a bunch of your jewelry at the house. Very careless of you.” She fishes a small wooden box out of her purse and hands it to me. “It’s cluttering up my house, and I won’t have it.” Right. Her 10,000-square-foot house definitely couldn’t accommodate that box.

“I don’t think I did,” I say, puzzled. I don’t have any nice jewelry left anyway. But I open the box, and there are several sets of diamond earrings that I’ve never seen before, which aren’t my style. They’re chunky, gaudy, and probably obscenely expensive, and they look more like something my great-aunt would wear.

There’s a little bag in the box, and when I open it, I see my pearl earrings and necklace—the ones I pawned.

She’s giving me earrings so I can pawn them for cash. And she gave me back the earrings and necklace, which I inherited from my great-grandmother Pansy. That’s as close as she can come to an apology. That’s her way of taking care of me while saving face.

“Thank you,” I say, blinking away tears. “Yes, that was careless of me.” I’m still mad about Carlisle, but my aunt is who she is and will never change. And maybe it really was time for Carlisle to retire.

The sound of a motorcycle catches our attention.

“What is that dreadful noise?” She looks at the door and makes a face. “Bitter End is full of hooligans these days.”

Tank has just pulled up in some antique-looking motorcycle with a sidecar. He comes striding through the door holding a gift-wrapped box and a vase of sunflowers, both of which he hands to me.

“Those are from Crash. Do what you want with them. He’s real sorry, though. Mopes around talking about you night and day.”

Then he returns his attention to Tiddlywinks. “Is that your dog? She’s a pretty one.” He holds out his hand, and she sniffs his fingers.

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