the thought and I didn’t want to think what that
maybe
might imply, I felt perfectly justified in not answering.
I stepped into the building and Declan followed me. “You’re in a good mood for a man whose cousin was arrested for murder last night,” I told him.
“Owen didn’t do it,” he said.
“Then who did?”
“Last night, you suggested that it might have been me.”
“It was just a theory.”
“And not a very good one.” He closed the door behind us and we stood side by side in the waiting area.
“I can take a look around the restaurant if you like,” Declan suggested.
“Just like you wanted to look around last night.”
“Which doesn’t make me a murder suspect.”
“But it does make you look awfully suspicious.”
He shot me a sidelong glance. “Truth?”
I wasn’t sure this was the time or the place so I hesitated, and when I did, he took it to mean I wanted to hear more.
“I figured the kid might be in trouble,” he said. “Owen, that is. He’s from South Carolina, here to visit Kitty and Pat and the rest of the family.”
“And you just naturally assumed that while he was in town, he’d be stealing the copper pipes from local establishments?”
“Owen is something of a hell-raiser. Always has been.”
“And you wanted to keep him out of trouble.”
“Keeping Owen out of trouble isn’t always possible, but I wanted to try.”
“And now he’s been arrested for murder.”
Declan muttered a word I couldn’t hear but I could pretty well imagine. “Owen is a stupid kid and he was doing a stupid thing. There’s no denying that. But the police don’t have anything to connect him to the murder.”
“Maybe he’s too smart for that.”
Declan chuckled. “You haven’t met Owen.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Even without any solid evidence, they’re going to try like hell to get a conviction,” he grumbled. “Gus Oberlin will see to it. Gus likes things wrapped up nice and quick. He sees one theory of a case and runs with it, even when he’s running in the wrong direction.”
I strolled over to the rolltop desk. “And you think that’s what he’s going to do this time.”
“Absolutely. Gus is going to steamroll his way through this case. I just need to make sure that when he does, he doesn’t flatten Owen in the process. You’ll see I’m right. Owen might be a goofball, but he’s not a killer.”
I wanted to believe him. Not because I had any opinion—good or bad—about Owen Quilligan. As Declan said, I didn’t know the kid. Still, I didn’t like the thought of a young guy like Owen spending the rest of his life in prison. I didn’t like the thought of Jack Lancer being dead, either. Or of finding bodies in restaurants. Dead instead of diners. Not a pretty thought.
I twitched it away and I’d already started through the doorway that led into the restaurant when Declan stopped me, his hand on my arm. “Don’t you want me to go in there before you?” he asked.
I laughed. “What do you think’s going to happen, the Lance of Justice’s ghost is going to get me? Or do you think I’m one of those women who will dissolve into tears just looking at the place where the awful deed happened?”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re not?”
“I don’t have the time. And I don’t have the disposition. So if you’re waiting for tears, you’re going to wait a long, long while. It doesn’t bother me to think that Jack Lancer died here. I didn’t know him. And I have no real connection with the Terminal, either, so it’s not like I think the murder has somehow affected the ambience.” I didn’t mean to sigh. Honest. But when I glanced around, I couldn’t help myself. “Let’s face it, there’s not much ambience around here to begin with.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His lips pursed, Declan looked around, too. “It’s a throwback to another era and a time when Hubbard was hopping. You know,
maybe
might imply, I felt perfectly justified in not answering.
I stepped into the building and Declan followed me. “You’re in a good mood for a man whose cousin was arrested for murder last night,” I told him.
“Owen didn’t do it,” he said.
“Then who did?”
“Last night, you suggested that it might have been me.”
“It was just a theory.”
“And not a very good one.” He closed the door behind us and we stood side by side in the waiting area.
“I can take a look around the restaurant if you like,” Declan suggested.
“Just like you wanted to look around last night.”
“Which doesn’t make me a murder suspect.”
“But it does make you look awfully suspicious.”
He shot me a sidelong glance. “Truth?”
I wasn’t sure this was the time or the place so I hesitated, and when I did, he took it to mean I wanted to hear more.
“I figured the kid might be in trouble,” he said. “Owen, that is. He’s from South Carolina, here to visit Kitty and Pat and the rest of the family.”
“And you just naturally assumed that while he was in town, he’d be stealing the copper pipes from local establishments?”
“Owen is something of a hell-raiser. Always has been.”
“And you wanted to keep him out of trouble.”
“Keeping Owen out of trouble isn’t always possible, but I wanted to try.”
“And now he’s been arrested for murder.”
Declan muttered a word I couldn’t hear but I could pretty well imagine. “Owen is a stupid kid and he was doing a stupid thing. There’s no denying that. But the police don’t have anything to connect him to the murder.”
“Maybe he’s too smart for that.”
Declan chuckled. “You haven’t met Owen.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Even without any solid evidence, they’re going to try like hell to get a conviction,” he grumbled. “Gus Oberlin will see to it. Gus likes things wrapped up nice and quick. He sees one theory of a case and runs with it, even when he’s running in the wrong direction.”
I strolled over to the rolltop desk. “And you think that’s what he’s going to do this time.”
“Absolutely. Gus is going to steamroll his way through this case. I just need to make sure that when he does, he doesn’t flatten Owen in the process. You’ll see I’m right. Owen might be a goofball, but he’s not a killer.”
I wanted to believe him. Not because I had any opinion—good or bad—about Owen Quilligan. As Declan said, I didn’t know the kid. Still, I didn’t like the thought of a young guy like Owen spending the rest of his life in prison. I didn’t like the thought of Jack Lancer being dead, either. Or of finding bodies in restaurants. Dead instead of diners. Not a pretty thought.
I twitched it away and I’d already started through the doorway that led into the restaurant when Declan stopped me, his hand on my arm. “Don’t you want me to go in there before you?” he asked.
I laughed. “What do you think’s going to happen, the Lance of Justice’s ghost is going to get me? Or do you think I’m one of those women who will dissolve into tears just looking at the place where the awful deed happened?”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re not?”
“I don’t have the time. And I don’t have the disposition. So if you’re waiting for tears, you’re going to wait a long, long while. It doesn’t bother me to think that Jack Lancer died here. I didn’t know him. And I have no real connection with the Terminal, either, so it’s not like I think the murder has somehow affected the ambience.” I didn’t mean to sigh. Honest. But when I glanced around, I couldn’t help myself. “Let’s face it, there’s not much ambience around here to begin with.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His lips pursed, Declan looked around, too. “It’s a throwback to another era and a time when Hubbard was hopping. You know,
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