Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David Page B

fine,” Edgar insisted, unlocking the door. “I don’t need a babysitter. Go take care of your girlfriend.”
    “ She’s not–”
    “ If she isn’t, then it’s your own damn fault. Believe me, you’re wasting time you’ll never get back.”
    Mac put a hand on the old man ‘s bony shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your wife, I know–”
    “ Don’t.” Edgar gave him a wry smile. “Elinor and I had almost 60 years together. It was time for a break.”
    Mac stared at him. What could he say to that? Surely, the old man didn ‘t mean–
    “ You should see your face!” Edgar let out a cackle that had him coughing again. “Sorry, but there’s only so much sympathy a man can take. I loved Elinor, but I’m not going to waste the little time I have left looking backward. You should do the same.”
    As Edgar went inside, Mac looked across the street and was disappointed when he didn ‘t see Rachel’s Jeep. She must have gotten tired of waiting for him and taken her vehicle around the corner, down the alley, and parked it in her garage. He debated whether or not to rap on the door to say goodnight. It was late and he’d already left an exhausted Whiskey asleep in his car, dreaming about her turkey farm adventure.
    Jingling his keys, he slowly walked across the street, delaying the moment when he ‘d have to make a decision. Edgar was right about wasting time. He’d gotten very skilled at postponing any changes to his personal life. Not that he hadn’t had relationships in the past, but they had all ended badly. He knew at least a half dozen women in the D.C. area he had to actively avoid. Usually they had expected more from him than he had to give. Or maybe wanted to give. Even if he couldn’t change the past, he figured he should at least start being honest with himself. He was alone because that’s the way he’d wanted it. Now, maybe…He just wasn’t sure she felt the same way.
    When he saw Rachel ‘s porch light go on, he figured it was as good an invitation as he was going to get that evening.
    She answered on the first knock.
    “You want some coffee? Decaf of course.”
    Mac nodded and followed Rachel into the kitchen.
    He liked the room. Rachel was a baker so there was always a fresh smell to the place. The walls were covered with colorful vintage advertising posters taken from old fruit crates. The original oak cabinets had the warm patina of age, but were still sturdy. The round oak table and chairs combined to make the place seem like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
    He realized she ‘d just said something to him. “What?”
    “ I said, do you think it was safe to leave Bridget with her friend Sarah? I know she was determined not to go to her parents, but maybe you should have insisted she stay at your place?”
    Mac laughed. The first real laugh he ‘d had all day.
    “ Nobody, and I mean nobody including the Lord himself, makes Bridget O’Herlihy do anything she doesn’t want to do. I think her comment that she’d rather sleep on a bench in Farragut Square than on my, how did she so delicately describe it, ‘lumpy, sorry excuse for a couch that even Whiskey won’t sit on,’ pretty much summed up the alternatives she was offering me. Besides I’m not sure she’s in any real danger anyhow. Even if something funny is going on in Boston, she’s here now and out of harm’s way.”
    Rachel slid a steaming mug across the table, then grabbed a box of Special K out of the cupboard. “You want a bowl of cereal? We never did eat dinner.”
    Mac looked sheepish. “Sorry about that. You really eat that stuff?”
    Rachel blushed. She poured herself a bowl and added milk and bananas. She lifted her chin and sat down primly at the table. “What were you planning to eat at 11 at night? Taco Bell again? Do you have their number on speed dial?”
    Mac held up his hand in defense. “Okay, okay. Pass me some of that sawdust. Sheesh, next you’ll be asking me if I want a bran