Free Cut to the Corpse by Lucy Lawrence Page B

another reason,” Matt said. “I was hoping to treat you two to dinner at the Fife and Drum. Our chef is trying out a new entrée, Ahi tuna steaks with wasabi, and I knew you’d had a rough day and thought you could use a good meal.”
    Brenna was touched, truly, but she already had a date.
    “I can’t,” she said. “I’m watching Hank for Nate, and I really don’t think I want to be late in feeding him his dinner. It might bode ill for my cabin.”
    “Another time then?” Matt asked.
    “No, don’t put it off on my account,” Brenna said. “Tenley can go. She has no plans.”
    “Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she said.
    “Yes, you can,” Brenna said. “In fact, I insist. Matt, take her to dinner and I’ll lock up the shop tonight.”
    “But . . .”
    “No buts,” Brenna said. She stood and gathered their mugs. “Be sure to order seconds of the amaretto cheese-cake for me.”
    Matt stood with a smile. “Well, if that’s an order, shall we?”
    “Well, okay, I guess,” Tenley agreed.
    Funny, for someone who sounded so reluctant, she looked pretty happy about this turn of events.
    Brenna locked the door behind them with a wave and a smile. She had been hoping to shove them together at some point, as it was obvious they still liked each other, and it was equally obvious that neither of them had any idea what to do about it. She was pleased to help out, even if it meant skipping a free dinner.
    She drove home with the windows down, letting in the warm evening air and the musical chirp of the spring peepers, small frogs that inhabited the woods around Morse Point Lake. She was looking forward to seeing Hank. There was a little part of her that wished she were going home to Nate, too. But if she couldn’t have the man, she’d happily take the dog.
    Hank bounced in circles of canine delight when Brenna pushed open the door of her cabin. He jumped up and licked her chin, her ear, and her nose. She laughed as she wiped off the doggie slobber with her sleeve. Dinner would have to wait. Hank needed some playtime.
    She grabbed two of his tennis balls and they headed to the lake. She threw one in a high arch and Hank launched himself off of the bank, landed with a big splash, and dog-paddled out to the ball. He retrieved it with his mouth, and Brenna could swear he was grinning. He climbed ashore and shook out his shaggy mane, making sure to splash her—at least she was pretty sure he’d planned that.
    She threw the ball again and watched as he dove for it. The late June evening was cooling and the breeze off of the water felt good on her skin. She glanced up and saw her neighbor Twyla leaving her cabin with a beach towel over her arm.
    Twyla skipped across the grass toward Brenna. She said skipping kept her young. She was somewhere in her late fifties or early sixties, although she didn’t look it, and Brenna believed her.
    Twyla was a sculptor, who worked primarily with metal. Behind her cabin, a field of wind sculptures was growing. With rounded shapes, some looked like big steel flowers that spun when the softest breeze captured their metallic petals. Others looked like long, curving spirals, and wound their way from the ground up into the sky. Brenna liked to go and walk amongst them on windy days and feel the power of nature and steel combined into a beautiful form.
    Twyla joined Brenna by the water’s edge and handed her the towel. “You’re going to need that.”
    “Thanks.” Brenna dabbed at her face and shirt.
    “Nate always forgets to bring a towel, too,” she said. “But usually he goes fishing afterward and lets Hank air dry.”
    “I’m not going fishing,” Brenna said.
    “I figured,” Twyla said. She tossed her thick gray braid over her shoulder and brushed a hand over her iridescent green, broomstick skirt. “So, I heard you were the one who found Clue Parker with an axe lodged in his head.”
    “There was no axe,” Brenna spluttered. “And his head was intact. Honestly, how do