Deadly Intentions by Candice Poarch

get that for you, Grandma.”
    Naomi glanced pointedly at Brian. “First you’ll introduce me to this young man.”
    â€œOh, this is Brian. He just got back from Afghanistan. Brian, this is my grandmother and my favorite person in the world, Naomi Claxton.” Lisa hugged her grandmother, hoping she didn’t catch the fact that Lisa had intentionally left out Brian’s last name.
    Using his cane to assist himself, Brian struggled to get up.
    â€œKeep your seat, young man.” Her grandmother wore a long blue dress. Her salt-and-pepper hair, more white than black now, was down instead of tucked into the bun she usually wore.
    â€œAfternoon, ma’am. Thank you for having me at your home,” Brian said.
    â€œAny friend of Lisa’s is always welcome. Is there anything I can do for you?”
    â€œThank you, but I’m fine.”
    â€œHe needs to eat so he can take his medicine,” Lisa said.
    â€œI don’t have much of an appetite,” Brian said as he settled back.
    â€œEverybody loves Grandma’s food,” Lisa said.
    â€œI’m sure you’re a fine cook, ma’am. Sure smells good.” Obviously Brian didn’t want to insult her grandmother.
    â€œI’ll fix you just a little something. Not much. But first, welcome home.” Mrs. Claxton placed a soothing arm around Brian’s shoulder. She smelled of spices, as if she’d been in the kitchen all day. She offered the kind of comforting that was as foreign to Brian as home-baked pies and cookies fresh from the oven. And for some reason Brian didn’t understand, the gesture rocked him straight to the gut.
    â€œI know it’s hard to eat when you’re not feeling well.” Mrs. Claxton patted his hand and leaned back. Brian felt bereft, as if he were missing something vital.
    â€œI’ll take the potato salad out for you,” Lisa said.
    â€œLet me get a little first. Why don’t you fix Brian a glass of lemonade? Make sure you put plenty of ice in it.” She patted his hand again. “You just rest, young man.”
    Brian felt absolutely miserable. Lisa should have taken him to the motel. He should have taken his pills. He was cold, an indication he had a temp. But he wouldn’t have missed Mrs. Claxton’s warm greeting for anything. She chattered as she worked. Brian hoped he wasn’t expected to respond, because the soothing tone of her voice mesmerized him.
    Seemed only seconds had passed when Mrs. Claxton returned with two plates. She set one in front of him and the other at the seating next to him. She pulled out a chair and sat, too, and let out a long sigh.
    â€œYou’re just the excuse I need to sit. I’ve been standing all day.”
    â€œThe food looks delicious, ma’am.” Resolutely, Brian picked up the fork. He had no appetite. He just wanted to sleep. But he forked up a mouthful and the best food he’d ever tasted exploded on his tongue. “This is delicious.”
    â€œEat what you can.” Surprisingly, Brian ate everything on the plate. Lisa came back just in time to shove pills down his throat.
    Brian knew he wouldn’t be able to start an active search for Harriet Woolsley’s killer until he gained his strength back. It was his job. He felt responsible. In a day or two he should be near the top of his game. Well, almost.
    Mrs. Claxton went outside, leaving Lisa and Brian in the kitchen.
    â€œListen,” Lisa said urgently. “If no one brings up the murder at your grandfather’s house, please don’t mention it. I’m not telling anybody your last name so if they have heard about it, they won’t connect you to it.”
    â€œI’ll be quiet as a church mouse, but it was a murder. The news will lead with the story.”
    â€œBut they won’t mention my name. And nobody’s listening to the news right now. They’re on the deck eating and talking.”
    Brian