to let Seanmhair know.” Relieved at the fact there was nothing nefarious to be found at his being on Allens Avenue, I added, “As far as Seanmhair’s safety goes, I’ve insisted she not dawdle in that area of the city.”
Aidan’s laughter was lovely. It soothed my wandering thoughts. “Is there anything else you’d like to know about me, lass?”
I shook my head. This man was smooth, educated, canny, and oh, so handsomely sexy. Him without clothes, um . . . I shook my head and thrust away the thought. My instincts warned me not to trust so readily, not Aidan, nor anyone else, until the murderer was apprehended.
I rose and thanked BettyJo once again for sharing her shop before her clients arrived. When I wondered aloud if she needed help straightening the room, Aidan quickly offered his services.
“I’ll help BettyJo. You need not worry. Go along and take care of your matters. I know you must return that mysterious call,” Aidan assured me with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
BettyJo grinned and said, “I cancelled my customers for tonight, just in case the meeting ran longer than we expected. I guess it’s a good thing I did.”
With a smile in BettyJo’s direction, I left them and returned to the bakery. I made my way to the apartment above the bakery and tossed my jacket aside, kicked off my shoes, and took a deep breath. When I’d released the air in my lungs, I felt infinitely more relaxed than I had all day.
I sank down onto the sofa and called Seanmhair. Her phone rang twice before she answered.
“I was wondering if you’d call,” Seanmhair said softly, her exhaustion apparent. “Are you home now?”
“I am,” I said. “I didn’t want it known you were on the phone. If I’d been alone with BettyJo, I wouldn’t have minded. With Aidan in close proximity, I figured I’d keep your call to myself. So spill it, what’s so important that I need to know?”
“Before you arrived at BettyJo’s tonight, two of the renters came in. They didn’t see me. I was in the front room of the shop,” Seanmhair said in a conspiratorial manner. “They talked about the murder and how Mrs. Peterson coerced them into increased rental fees.”
“Did you recognize them or their voices once we all assembled and started speaking?” I wondered if Seanmhair had tucked her body behind the room dividers in order to listen.
“It was that cupcake woman and snotty Sondra,” Seanmhair remarked.
I chortled at her reference to Sondra Greenfield. The cupcake woman, huh? I couldn’t imagine Helena Bentwood and snotty Sondra as confidants or friends of any sort. Intrigued by the thought of their conversation, I told Seanmhair not to indulge in name calling and begged her to go on.
Ignoring my reprimand, she continued, “Snotty Sondra said she figured you and BettyJo had more reason to kill Mrs. Peterson, than the rest of them, because you two make a heap more money than everyone else.” Seanmhair clucked her tongue a few times in annoyance. Warming to her subject, she kept me enthralled with the gossip. “As if we make tons of profit. Hah. Anyway, the cupcake woman said she’d heard you and Mrs. Peterson were battling over a rent increase and that threats were made by both of you. She said she wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Peterson was dead, and that you’d likely killed her because she was a miserable biddy.”
I gasped and uttered, “How did Sondra respond?”
“Sondra merely sniffed and said she didn’t think it was you. She’d seen somebody hanging about the parking area earlier in the evening. They stayed in the shadows. She claimed it was too dark to see who it was. They didn’t say anymore because several others arrived.”
I twirled a wisp of my hair while listening to Seanmhair. The images she’d conjured came to the forefront. I wondered who’d have waited in the dark and why. Surely it hadn’t been Aidan. My heart sank at the idea.
Seanmhair asked, “Are you still there,
Aidan’s laughter was lovely. It soothed my wandering thoughts. “Is there anything else you’d like to know about me, lass?”
I shook my head. This man was smooth, educated, canny, and oh, so handsomely sexy. Him without clothes, um . . . I shook my head and thrust away the thought. My instincts warned me not to trust so readily, not Aidan, nor anyone else, until the murderer was apprehended.
I rose and thanked BettyJo once again for sharing her shop before her clients arrived. When I wondered aloud if she needed help straightening the room, Aidan quickly offered his services.
“I’ll help BettyJo. You need not worry. Go along and take care of your matters. I know you must return that mysterious call,” Aidan assured me with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
BettyJo grinned and said, “I cancelled my customers for tonight, just in case the meeting ran longer than we expected. I guess it’s a good thing I did.”
With a smile in BettyJo’s direction, I left them and returned to the bakery. I made my way to the apartment above the bakery and tossed my jacket aside, kicked off my shoes, and took a deep breath. When I’d released the air in my lungs, I felt infinitely more relaxed than I had all day.
I sank down onto the sofa and called Seanmhair. Her phone rang twice before she answered.
“I was wondering if you’d call,” Seanmhair said softly, her exhaustion apparent. “Are you home now?”
“I am,” I said. “I didn’t want it known you were on the phone. If I’d been alone with BettyJo, I wouldn’t have minded. With Aidan in close proximity, I figured I’d keep your call to myself. So spill it, what’s so important that I need to know?”
“Before you arrived at BettyJo’s tonight, two of the renters came in. They didn’t see me. I was in the front room of the shop,” Seanmhair said in a conspiratorial manner. “They talked about the murder and how Mrs. Peterson coerced them into increased rental fees.”
“Did you recognize them or their voices once we all assembled and started speaking?” I wondered if Seanmhair had tucked her body behind the room dividers in order to listen.
“It was that cupcake woman and snotty Sondra,” Seanmhair remarked.
I chortled at her reference to Sondra Greenfield. The cupcake woman, huh? I couldn’t imagine Helena Bentwood and snotty Sondra as confidants or friends of any sort. Intrigued by the thought of their conversation, I told Seanmhair not to indulge in name calling and begged her to go on.
Ignoring my reprimand, she continued, “Snotty Sondra said she figured you and BettyJo had more reason to kill Mrs. Peterson, than the rest of them, because you two make a heap more money than everyone else.” Seanmhair clucked her tongue a few times in annoyance. Warming to her subject, she kept me enthralled with the gossip. “As if we make tons of profit. Hah. Anyway, the cupcake woman said she’d heard you and Mrs. Peterson were battling over a rent increase and that threats were made by both of you. She said she wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Peterson was dead, and that you’d likely killed her because she was a miserable biddy.”
I gasped and uttered, “How did Sondra respond?”
“Sondra merely sniffed and said she didn’t think it was you. She’d seen somebody hanging about the parking area earlier in the evening. They stayed in the shadows. She claimed it was too dark to see who it was. They didn’t say anymore because several others arrived.”
I twirled a wisp of my hair while listening to Seanmhair. The images she’d conjured came to the forefront. I wondered who’d have waited in the dark and why. Surely it hadn’t been Aidan. My heart sank at the idea.
Seanmhair asked, “Are you still there,
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