Free A Dark and Stormy Murder (A Writer's Apprentice Mystery) by Julia Buckley Page A

discuss. Did you know him—the dead man?”
    West nodded and squirted some ketchup on his hash browns. “I went to that restaurant now and again—Wheat Grass. He worked there. He was a good waiter, too, but kind of a zero as a person.”
    “Meaning what?”
    “Not much personality. At least not that I noticed.”
    “Did he have any enemies that you knew of?”
    West’s face was wry. “For obvious reasons, I don’t involve myself with the lives of people in this town. I came here to be exactly what I am—a recluse who enjoys his silence.”
    “Yet you eat at places like this, and Wheat Grass, where you know everyone will stare at you.”
    “True. But a man has to eat. This place has good food, as does Wheat Grass. You should go sometime. Preferably with me.”
    I felt a blush rising on my face and wished that I could control that sort of thing. “Why with you?”
    His eyes were wide and innocent. “Because I’m tired of eating alone.” He shifted in his chair, and I caught a whiff of smoke, probably lingering from his morning cigarette.
    “You should stop smoking,” I said. It was utterlyinappropriate, but again West seemed amused. He gazed at me for a moment with his azure eyes.
    “I have,” he said finally. “For the most part. I have one in the morning and one in the evening. And oh, how I look forward to them both.”
    “Still unhealthy,” I said.
    He pointed at my waffle, on which I had spread a ridiculous amount of butter, and I laughed. “Okay, okay. Point taken. Lung disease, heart disease—potato, potahto.”
    “You’re a nice person, Lena,” he said suddenly.
    “Uh—”
    “And you’re so polite you would never ask, so I’m going to tell you something.” He leaned forward, clearly on the verge of an admission.
    “You don’t have to—”
    “I don’t know what happened to my wife,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve hired my own investigator to try to find her. I maintain a residence in New York City, and I go back from time to time to see if there are any new developments, and to check in with the neighbors who still speak to me. But for reasons that are probably obvious, I don’t like being there. In the meantime I am attempting to do my work in a quiet place that is extremely distant from New York. Despite my unpopular reputation, I find Blue Lake is working out quite well for me in that respect.”
    “What is your work?”
    “I’m an investor. I started out in banking and now I work with private clients. All I need is a phone and a computer to do my job well.”
    “Well, that’s convenient—I mean, that you wanted to relocate and didn’t have to leave your job behind.”
    “Yes, I suppose.”
    “And how did you happen to choose Blue Lake?”
    The doorbell jangled, and I looked up to see Douglas Heller entering and flashing a smile to Carly and saying something about wanting his usual. He was halfway to a table before he noticed me and West. He stopped in his tracks, his face unreadable, and then he walked toward us. “Hello, Lena.” Then he turned his face slightly to the right and said, “West.”
    “Detective Heller,” said Sam with painful politeness.
    “How are you and Camilla doing today?” Heller asked, his eyes back on me.
    “Quite well, considering. Have you found out who shot that poor man?”
    Heller shook his head. “We’re working on it. Meanwhile, since we can’t explain why there was a gunman on the beach, you might wish to refrain from going there, or from walking around unaccompanied. Did you walk here this morning?”
    “I did. And I was unaccompanied.”
    Sam West showed his teeth in what was meant to be a smile. “I was also
unaccompanied
. Perhaps Lena and I should walk back up the hill together.”
    Heller did not look amused. “I suppose that, under the circumstances, it would be a good idea.” He looked tired today, and his gold-brown eyes were red-rimmed. I wondered what sort of hours one had to keep when investigating a crime.