have gathered to the right, between Levi’s and the souvenir shop that abutted that side of the bar.
“Remind me never to enter another merchants’ concert promotion,” Levi said once we were out of range of any of his customers’ hearing.
So, he assumed we’d still be talking again some time in the future.
While I tried to decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing, my attention was caught by a commotion across the street right in front of the closed storefront that used to house the Orient Express restaurant. It was the scene of the murder the other Literary Ladies and I had investigated earlier that year, and because of that—and the still-disturbing fact that we’d been the ones who’d found the body of Peter Chan, the restaurant’s proprietor—I usually avoided the place.
That wasn’t so easy now because I could see two guys who were obviously feeling no pain jawing with a short, thin guy in tattered jeans, a dirty T-shirt, and new sneakers.
“Richie,” I groaned, and since I knew two against Richie automatically meant trouble, I started across the street.
“Hey, Richie!” I called out when I was halfway there. New York, remember, and I’d learned early on that there is no better way to diffuse a tiff than to pretend ignorance and get the warring parties separated. “I’ve been looking for you, Richie.” Like it was the most natural thing in the world, I stepped between Richie and the two men.
Have no fear, Levi was right behind me, and though I might not know what he really thought of me, how he’d discovered that the story I’d told my friends about a dead husband who never existed was a lie, or how I was supposed to handle the waves of electricity that cascaded through me every time he was around, I was pretty sure I could trust him to have my back.
How right I was! Levi didn’t say a word; he simply planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chipped-from-marble chest. He was taller than both the strangers by a head, and the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his chin pretty much screamed what he didn’t have to say—he wouldn’t put up with any nonsense. One look from him and the two strangers backed off and headed toward the park.
I turned my attention back to Richie who, in spite of the fact that he’d been doing his best to hold his own against the two guys, watched them leave with what was clearly relief etched on his face.
That relief turned stony when Richie looked my way and his mouth twisted. “You didn’t need to save me. I can take care of myself.”
I shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’m sure you can.” As casually as I could, I glanced the way the two guys had gone just to make sure they weren’t stupid and decided to double back. “Friends of yours?”
Richie snorted. “Drunks.” He twitched. “They were being punks, that’s all. They wouldn’t move out of my way when I wanted to walk by.”
“Well, seeing you here worked out well for me,” I told him. “Because I’ve been looking for you.” For what? I asked myself the question at the same time I came up with the answer, so I didn’t insult Richie by making him think I’d only come across the street to save his skin. Even though it was true. “Richie, I wondered if you could do some work for me around the B and B.”
Richie’s expression melted into a grin. “Don’t need no work.”
Levi stepped forward. “Come on, Richie. Bea’s being generous, and you’re always looking for work.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear me.” Richie’s gaze darted from one of us to the other, his eyes bright with excitement. I’d seen him at Levi’s earlier in the evening, and I knew he’d had a couple beers. But this wasn’t alcohol talking. Richie was jazzed. “I said I don’t need no work. Don’t need nothing around here anymore. Not dumb jobs pulling weeds or selling ice cream. Not putting up with weekend drunks who don’t know how to act.” Richie’s gaze flashed across the street
“Remind me never to enter another merchants’ concert promotion,” Levi said once we were out of range of any of his customers’ hearing.
So, he assumed we’d still be talking again some time in the future.
While I tried to decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing, my attention was caught by a commotion across the street right in front of the closed storefront that used to house the Orient Express restaurant. It was the scene of the murder the other Literary Ladies and I had investigated earlier that year, and because of that—and the still-disturbing fact that we’d been the ones who’d found the body of Peter Chan, the restaurant’s proprietor—I usually avoided the place.
That wasn’t so easy now because I could see two guys who were obviously feeling no pain jawing with a short, thin guy in tattered jeans, a dirty T-shirt, and new sneakers.
“Richie,” I groaned, and since I knew two against Richie automatically meant trouble, I started across the street.
“Hey, Richie!” I called out when I was halfway there. New York, remember, and I’d learned early on that there is no better way to diffuse a tiff than to pretend ignorance and get the warring parties separated. “I’ve been looking for you, Richie.” Like it was the most natural thing in the world, I stepped between Richie and the two men.
Have no fear, Levi was right behind me, and though I might not know what he really thought of me, how he’d discovered that the story I’d told my friends about a dead husband who never existed was a lie, or how I was supposed to handle the waves of electricity that cascaded through me every time he was around, I was pretty sure I could trust him to have my back.
How right I was! Levi didn’t say a word; he simply planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chipped-from-marble chest. He was taller than both the strangers by a head, and the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his chin pretty much screamed what he didn’t have to say—he wouldn’t put up with any nonsense. One look from him and the two strangers backed off and headed toward the park.
I turned my attention back to Richie who, in spite of the fact that he’d been doing his best to hold his own against the two guys, watched them leave with what was clearly relief etched on his face.
That relief turned stony when Richie looked my way and his mouth twisted. “You didn’t need to save me. I can take care of myself.”
I shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’m sure you can.” As casually as I could, I glanced the way the two guys had gone just to make sure they weren’t stupid and decided to double back. “Friends of yours?”
Richie snorted. “Drunks.” He twitched. “They were being punks, that’s all. They wouldn’t move out of my way when I wanted to walk by.”
“Well, seeing you here worked out well for me,” I told him. “Because I’ve been looking for you.” For what? I asked myself the question at the same time I came up with the answer, so I didn’t insult Richie by making him think I’d only come across the street to save his skin. Even though it was true. “Richie, I wondered if you could do some work for me around the B and B.”
Richie’s expression melted into a grin. “Don’t need no work.”
Levi stepped forward. “Come on, Richie. Bea’s being generous, and you’re always looking for work.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear me.” Richie’s gaze darted from one of us to the other, his eyes bright with excitement. I’d seen him at Levi’s earlier in the evening, and I knew he’d had a couple beers. But this wasn’t alcohol talking. Richie was jazzed. “I said I don’t need no work. Don’t need nothing around here anymore. Not dumb jobs pulling weeds or selling ice cream. Not putting up with weekend drunks who don’t know how to act.” Richie’s gaze flashed across the street
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