She asked if Meg had gotten the basket, and then ended the call, but not before telling her that she needed to be at the bookstore at noon on Thursday so she could help with Lilly’s preorder signing.
Meg set the phone down and updated her weekly calendar. The only thing she could focus on was the possibility that both her aunt and her mom now had a motive to kill Meade: to save the bookstore.
That couldn’t be possible, right? She focused on her coffee and wished she’d never started looking into Robert Meade’s death or writing the guidebook. Nancy Drew never had to clear her dad of murder, right?
CHAPTER11
Everyone’s a suspect . . . including your friends and family.
Meg kept herself busy on Wednesday working on Lilly’s latest assignment. She wanted to get this done since she had to work full days on Thursday and Friday. Then she could hand the folder to Lilly when she arrived at the bookstore. Besides, if she kept herself locked up in her apartment while working, she didn’t have to ask Natasha, Aunt Melody, or Mom hard questions. Like, did they kill a man?
By the time the work was done, she was starving, and she decided to walk Watson down to Island Diner to pick up a take-out order. Eventually, she’d have to unpack her kitchen boxes and cook, but today was not that day. Maybe she’d finish unpacking on Sunday and invite Dalton and Natasha over for dinner, if she’d cleared her friend of any murderous intent by then.
She could have stayed in Seattle and investigated a murder there. Then she wouldn’t know the suspects, like she did on Bainbridge. With her luck, if she had, her dad, brother, and probably Romain and Rachel would all be implicated in the murder.
Ugh. Even their names were cute together. They’d probably insist on giving their future kids names starting withRso they could all match and have matching sweaters with a bigRon the front in front of the tree for the Christmas card shoot.
Now she wanted to kill someone. Instead, she slapped her hand.
She and Watson walked downtown. The evening was cloudy, and it looked like it might rain tonight. Meg hoped it would hold off until after they got back home with the food. She took a shortcut on a trail that ran next to the historical museum and through the parking lot of city hall as well as the fire department. On weekends, there was a farmers market here, too. One summer in high school she’d worked for the city, handing out flyers and directing people to the art museum, the historical museum, and the farmers market. She’d directed hundreds of people a day to turn left at the second light.
The good thing about the job was they had paid her for a full eight hours a day, so she had got to read in between ferry arrivals. She’d even won an award for handing out the most maps for three weeks in a row. Jerry Glower had won the extra hundred bucks for a month before they had found his boxes stuffed in a recycling bin and Jerry smoking weed behind the parking lot.
She’d worked the job all through high school, giving her the money she’d needed to start college. During school terms, she’d worked at the Seattle Space Needle, handing out informational pamphlets on Seattle sights to tourists. She’d lived on campus and taken classes in the summer, as well, planning on graduating in three years rather than four.
Except she’d met Frank, and he’d talked her into quitting and going to work for the start-up his dad was developing. Frank’s dad had already worked for Microsoft and had retired and started his own business. One he’d sold for a huge payday. So then he was starting again with a new idea. As an employee on the ground floor, Meg would be part of the next payday. Except this start-up, like most, failed.
At least Meg had put as much as she could away in her retirement fund.
Now she had no career. No college degree. And no fiancé. Maybe if the job with Lilly tanked, she could hand out maps again. She had experience.
When she got to Island Diner, several people were sitting outside, waiting for tables. She tied Watson to the bike rack, where she could watch him, stepped inside, and went over to the pickup area, which was a corner of the bar. The bartender, who also handled the take-out orders, held up a finger, indicating he’d seen her. She had to wait.
She stood there for five minutes, then went to the door to check on Watson. He was sitting by the bike rack, watching something in the tree next to the building. Meg saw the bartender wave her over and hurried back to the bar.
“Hey, I’m picking up a take-out order for Meg Gates,” she said.
“I figured your type would have a private chef.” He leaned closer and smiled. “Get it? You’re a Gates, like Bill.”
“Definitely not like Bill,” Meg responded. “Sorry. My dog’s outside. Is my food ready?”
“I’ll go back to the kitchen and check. It’s a madhouse today. One of the cooks didn’t show up for his shift.” He tapped the bar. “Just wait here. I’ll be right back. Unless you want a beer while you wait.”
“No. Like I said, my dog is outside waiting for me,” Meg explained again.
The bartender glared at her. “Your loss. I’m a fun date.”
“When did I say . . . ?” Meg shook her head and went back to the door to wait so she could keep an eye on Watson. Except he wasn’t there. She opened the door and saw his leash was no longer tied to the rack. “What the heck? Watson, where are you?”
A bark sounded from around the side of building, and as Meg ran in the direction from which it had come, she saw Glory walking him back. “Oh, thank goodness. How did he get untied?”
“I watched as some jerk untied him and then scared him away. I went after him, and thankfully, he recognized me from the bookstore. Are you eating here?” Glory handed Meg his leash.
“Picking up food. Can you watch him for a second while I go in to see if my order’s ready yet?” Meg didn’t want to leave him alone again. She guessed she’d have to leave Watson at home if she was alone and was going inside somewhere.
“He’ll be fine with me. I’m waiting for a table with my friend.” She nodded toward a handsome older man sitting on a bench, watching them. “Go get your food.”
Meg was still steaming when she got home. Why would anyone try to hurt a dog like that? If Watson had gone out into the street or gotten lost, Meg would never have forgiven herself. Watson, on the other hand, seemed tired and went to lie down after he determined that Meg wasn’t going to share her dinner with him.
