“Are you, uh, related to Gus?”
He nodded. “He’s—was—my uncle.”
She clasped his hand in both of hers. In a weird way, it was an honor to help someone through that surreal moment when a loved one switched from present tenseto past.
“I’m so very sorry. Gus was a wonderful man. Everyone in Trappers Cove loved him.”
He chuffed a hoarse laugh. “Wish I could say the same about his family.”
“But you’re here.”
“Yeah.” He glanced toward the back of the shop. “He wrote to me. Actual snail mail. But that’s Gus, right? Said he had a business deal to discuss.”
“Any idea what he had in mind?”
He released her hand and speared long fingers through his hair, mussing it adorably.
She sucked in a breath, fighting for focus. She was here to help and to gather news, not to ogle a pretty man. Averypretty man.
“Honestly, I don’t have a clue. Doesn’t matter now, anyway.” A tear rolled down his cheek, triggering a wave of sympathy so overwhelming she threw her arm around his shoulders.
“It’ll be okay,” she whispered and inhaled the enticing scent wafting from his warm, solid body—leather, she decided, and moss. Masculine and delicious. “We’ll help you. Whatever you need, Trappers Cove takes good care of its own.”
“I’m not from TC,” he protested, his voice a sensual rumble.
“You’re Gus’s family. That makes you one of us.” She patted his back, then released him when a siren whooped outside.
They rose to greet Police Chief Jess Hawthorne and Officer Ethan Jefferson, who made up slightly less than half of their town’s tiny police force. Not much call for law enforcement outside of the tourist season, when the town’s population tripled.
Jess removed her cap and smoothed her gray ponytail. “Hey there, Hannah. Scoping out a scoop?”
Gus’s nephew scowled as he searched Hannah’s face.
Heat painted her cheeks. “I’m with the Trapper CityBeacon.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Is that why you came? But how did you know?”
She raised her palms in a placating gesture. “I wanted to interview Gus for a story about Souvenir Planet. I had no idea he’d passed, I swear.”
“Of course not. How could you? The place was locked up tight.” Somehow, he didn’t look entirely convinced, but his chest inflated in a deep breath. “Gus is back here, in his office.”
“And who are you, sir?” Jess asked, her pen and notepad at the ready.
“Xander Anagnos. With an X, not a Z. I’m his nephew.”
Xander.What a cool name. It suited him.
Jess jotted down Xander’s contact information, then she and Officer Jefferson followed him back through the swinging doors. No one protested when Hannah trailed after them.
Before stepping into Gus’s office, she braced herself. In twenty years of reporting for theBeacon, she’d seen several dead bodies, but all the breath left her body at the sight of the dear old man sprawled like a marionette with its strings cut.
“Oh, Gus.” She clapped her hands to her mouth to stifle a sob. Such a sweet, funny guy. To have soldiered on through losing his wife, then the pandemic, only to die alone in this cramped, dingy office—it broke her heart.
The two cops stepped carefully around the corpse, snapping photos and taking notes.
“In my professional opinion, Gus expired from natural causes,” Jess told them when they’d concluded their brief examination. “My condolences, Mr. Anagnos. Your uncle was a good man, one of the best.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice—a useless gesture in the tiny space. “Between you and me, Gus seemed a little off lately, always muttering about alien visitors. Losing Martha kinda knocked him sideways, I think.”
The two-way radio on the chief’s belt crackled. She listened and nodded. “Ambulance is here. They’ll take Gus to the funeral home. County Medical Examiner will confirm cause of death before releasing the body for burial. Any idea what Gus’s wishes were?”
