Past Midnight (South Island PD Book 2) Page 7

  Either that, or she was off to plot exactly how to do just that.

  Putting the thought out of his mind, he complimented Gail on the decorations. If the woman was going to marry Rogers, she deserved a little kindness.

  “Thanks. My mom did them.” Gail smiled, then lowered her voice. “Don’t mind Danielle’s attitude; it’s just her way of kidding around. I know you two have a rocky past, but she really does appreciate what you did for her grandmother.”

  “So she said.” More or less.

  “I mean it. When her grandmother was little, she was bitten on the finger by a rat her brother was keeping as a pet. Ended up getting a nasty infection and had to be hospitalized. I guess the memory has stuck with her all these years – she’s terrified of rodents.”

  Elijah nodded. “That’s what Danielle told me the other day."

  Gail tipped her head. “Speaking of Danielle’s grandmother…”

  A small, snowy-haired figure swept into the corner of Elijah’s vision. “Mrs. Delaney.”

  Mrs. Delaney made a show of greeting him and Peyton. While it was slightly embarrassing when she called Elijah her ‘hero’, he had to admit that her admiration was a nice change after her granddaughter’s sarcasm.

  After a lengthy round of small talk, Mrs. Delaney turned to Peyton, reaching out to clasp one of her hands in her own. “I’m telling you, you couldn’t have chosen a nicer young man. He’s a keeper – don’t you let him get away.”

  Mrs. Delaney actually winked.

  Jesus. Elijah cast his gaze out a large window, where the sea was rolling against the shore, grey-green in the evening light. He wished he was out there, where the roar of crashing surf would drown out Mrs. Delaney’s voice.

  Peyton just laughed. And he might’ve laughed too, if he hadn’t been so bent on getting Peyton to like him. They’d started off rough, but now – for reasons he didn’t fully understand – he wanted her to really like him.

  To trust him.

  Somehow, he didn’t think Mrs. Delaney’s glowing recommendation was going to cut it.

  CHAPTER 7

  “So,” Peyton said when Mrs. Delaney finally left to look for her husband, “I’m beginning to realize you’re a lot more popular than you made out in the car.”

  “Don’t let Mrs. Delaney fool you; she’s the sole member of my fan club.”

  “Well, she has enough enthusiasm for a dozen people, at least.”

  He was just about to say something when a familiar voice came to his rescue, saving him from having to come up with a reply.

  “Hey, man.” It was Jackson.

  Elijah had never been so glad to see his best friend.

  Well, except for the time Jackson had arrived at the scene of a particularly shitty call, saving Elijah from being beaten black and blue by a pair of angry, bridge-playing great-grandmas armed with a rolling pins. It’d taken the two of them to subdue them without causing any harm, which Elijah generally tried to avoid at all costs whenever someone was fifty years his senior.

  “Hey.” Elijah breathed a silent sigh of relief under his breath. Jackson had arrived with his fiancée, Belle, and they were the only two people in the room he could count on not to make him look like a jackass in front of Peyton.

  “I didn’t know you were bringing a date, Elijah,” Belle said, her dark eyes brightening.

  “It seems to have surprised a lot of people.” He motioned toward Peyton. “Belle and Jackson, this is Peyton, my date – believe it or not.

  “Peyton, this is my friend and co-worker Jackson and his fiancée, Belle. As you can tell, they’re accustomed to me being their third wheel and your presence here tonight comes as somewhat of a shock.”

  Peyton and Belle both laughed. Elijah let resignation set in. If nothing else, he’d settle for being funny. Better to be an amusing jackass than just a plain old ass.

  “You know I didn’t mean it that way, Elijah.” Belle shook her head. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d show up. You know, with your and Rogers’ history…”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure yet if I regret it or not. Didn’t want to piss all over Rogers’ olive branch though, so here I am, for better or for worse.”

  “Well, we’re glad you came. Do you two want to grab a table with us?”

  Elijah accepted gladly, and they all settled down at an empty table set for four.

  It was nice not to be the third wheel.

  The food was nice too, and the open bar was generous of Rogers and Gail, although Elijah couldn’t help but wonder whether one of them had an epic trust fund no one knew about. Who was brave enough to foot the bill for an open bar for a room full of cops?

  To say that the other guests were appreciating it would’ve been an understatement. The young bartender looked overworked, his shoulders sagging as he poured whiskey over ice. He worked quickly, but there was still a line snaking away from the corner where he was set up.

  “Peyton, can I get you a drink?” The line wasn’t that long. And besides, he would’ve stood in it for her regardless.

  “A glass of white wine would be nice; it looks like there’s a lot of seafood on the buffet.”

  “White wine it is.” He stood and pushed in his chair. “Belle, can I get you anything?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jackson said, pushing back his chair. “I was about to get in line anyway.”

  They joined the end of the line together, leaving Peyton and Belle at the table. Elijah’s gaze lingered there as the two women began to talk.

  Jackson’s voice snapped him out of his staring fit. “So, is that the panty seller?”

  “Yeah.” Elijah tried not to think about whatever panties Peyton might be wearing beneath that dress. They didn’t show up beneath the sleek, tight fabric, which meant—

  “Guess you successfully patched up her window, then.”

  “Yeah.” He dragged his gaze from Peyton to Jackson. “It’s not like she warmed up to me right then, though. I’m still in shock over her agreeing to come here with me.”

  Jackson nodded. “It’s a bold move, bringing her to Rogers’ party as a first date.”

  Elijah bit back a sigh. “Yeah, Rogers seemed to find it pretty amusing.”

  “Well, hopefully she won’t be too much trouble now that she’s in your debt.”

  “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say she’s in my debt.” The smirk she’d worn earlier certainly hadn’t been the smirk of a debtor. “Anyway, I got her with that Taser, so we’re even at best.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “She’s been giving you hell over that for years; you’ve suffered more than enough for it.”

  “What’ll it be, guys?”

  Elijah looked up. The bartender was leaning on his portable counter, his sleeves rolled up past the elbow. A sheen of sweat shone on his brow.

  “One Land Shark and one white wine.”

  “Chardonnay okay?”

  “Sure.” It was white, and it was wine. That was about as far as Elijah’s wine-savvy went, outside of the occasional cabernet with a nice steak.

  “Bet they didn’t tell you what you’d be up against,” Elijah said.

  The bartender cast his gaze around the room. The bar line was already snaking behind Elijah and Jackson. “No. No, they didn’t. This still isn’t as bad as the retirement party I worked last week, though.”

  “Who was retiring?”

  “A second grade teacher, I think. It was mostly women, too. You wouldn’t believe the way those ladies could put it away – pretty sure any one of them could drink me under the table, any day of the week.” He poured a generous serving of Chardonnay into a glass and handed it to Elijah. “Then again, if I was in charge of twenty kids all corralled in the same small room day after day, I’d probably have a hollow leg too.”

  “You have kids?”

  “No, but I’m an uncle. I’ve got three nieces now and four nephews. One more on the way.” He shrugged. “I’m one of four kids, and the only one who hasn’t settled down.�
��

  Elijah stuffed a tip into the jar on the counter. “Good luck, man. Hate to say it, but I don’t think the demand’s going to slow down until the place closes tonight.”

  “Thanks a lot. Appreciate it.”

  Jackson ordered for himself and Belle, and they made their way to their table. The room had grown crowded, with at least a dozen more people present than there had been when they’d first joined the bar line.

  “Wouldn’t have believed it if you’d told me Rogers was this popular,” Elijah said just under his breath.

  “These are probably mostly Gail’s friends,” Jackson said. “She seems a lot … friendlier … than Rogers.”

  They rejoined Peyton and Belle at the table, resting drinks on top of the pale tablecloth draped with a shimmery gold runner and lit by candlelight.

  Both women were smiling, which seemed like a good sign. Belle looked up and seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but before she could speak, the repetitive, high-pitched clank of metal against glass rang across the room.

  Guests turned by the dozen, chairs shifting and eyes scanning the room until a hush settled and a fair-skinned, dark-haired woman in her fifties was the only one speaking.

  “I’d like to dedicate a toast to my daughter Gail and her fiancée, Dani. I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a pair better suited to each other anywhere on this island, but then—” she paused to smile “—of course, I’m highly biased. Anyway … I had a feeling three years ago, when Gail first introduced me to Dani, that they had something special. Call it a mother’s intuition.

  “Gail – honey – and Dani, I want you both to know how happy I am for you, and how thrilled I am that I’ll be getting another daughter. I’m so glad the two of you met at that pottery seminar. Congratulations on your engagement.”

  Applause broke out, but Elijah sat frozen. Even as chatter began to resume, he was silent. Dani? Pottery seminar?

  Rogers was either leading the world’s most unlikely double-life, or the woman who’d just toasted the couple was smoking something dangerous.

  The only creativity Elijah had ever associated with Rogers was the creative use of insults, which she typically directed at him. The idea of her secretly attending pottery seminars was as bizarre as the idea that she’d let anyone get away with calling her Dani.

  Then again, she was related to Mrs. Delaney, so clearly, all things were possible.

  “That moved by the speech, huh?” Jackson’s voice snapped Elijah out of his speculation and forced him to realize he’d been staring into space. “Didn’t know you were the type to get so sensitive about weddings.”

  “You heard what I heard, right? Pottery seminar?”

  Jackson shrugged. “Everyone spends their free time somehow, right? Or did you think Rogers spent all her off-duty hours throwing darts at a picture of your face?”

  Elijah rolled his eyes. If Jackson didn’t think the idea of Rogers lovingly handcrafting quaint home décor from lumps of clay was hilarious, his sense of humor was clearly suspect.

  Belle cleared her throat. “I took a few pottery classes once. At summer camp, when I was a kid. I was terrible. Really, really terrible.”

  Elijah shifted his gaze to Belle. “How can you be terrible at making pottery? All you have to do is slap your hands on some clay while it spins on a wheel, right?”

  “Well, there’s skill involved in shaping the pottery correctly. Apparently, I lack that skill. All the other kids ended up with bowls and vases to take home to their parents. My vase turned out looking more than a little phallic.”

  A snort came from Elijah’s left, where Jackson was leaning back in his seat, beer in hand.

  Belle shook her head. “Of course, one of the boys in the class noticed right away and pointed it out. As you can probably imagine, it seemed like the funniest thing in the world to a bunch of teenage boys. The teasing was terrible, and then—”

  She paused.

  “Then what?” Peyton asked, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips, ready to come to life.

  “One of the boys snuck into the art room overnight while it was drying and painted it with pink glaze. You should’ve seen the counselor’s face when she led us into the room the next day and found it that way. There were even, well … let’s just say accents added with some white glaze.”

  Peyton laughed, and Jackson snorted again. “Belle, baby … you seem to have a history of these things happening.”

  Belle blushed and laughed. “I was honestly trying to make a vase, I swear.”

  “So did you take it home to show off to your family?” Jackson asked.

  “No. The camp counselor told me I could repaint it a different color, but she ‘accidentally’ bumped it, and it broke when it fell off the counter and hit the floor.”

  “A crying shame.” Jackson grinned.

  Belle just shrugged, then rolled her eyes. “I was relieved. You don’t even want to know the sort of things the boys at camp said to me about my little work of art.”

  “I can imagine.” Peyton shook her head. “Teenage boys were the bane of my existence in middle school. High school, too, sometimes. I can’t even imagine my nephew being that age.”

  “How old’s your nephew?” Belle asked.

  “Nine. He’s the sweetest kid; it’s hard to wrap my mind around the idea of him being a teenager in just a few years. Seems like I helped him on the bus on his first day of kindergarten just yesterday.”

  Belle smiled. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much – all teenage boys aren’t bad. It’s just the awful ones that stand out in my memory.”

  “She’s right,” Elijah said. “Personally, I remember being an absolute delight at that age.”

  Jackson scoffed.

  “Hmm.” Peyton tipped her head to the side, a teasing smile playing across her lips.

  Elijah’s gut tightened, and his heart beat faster. One look like that from her, and his skin was tingling all over.

  It was incredible, really.

  “Don’t I remember you saying something about busting your parents’ window right before a rainstorm?”

  “An accident. I was teaching a couple of my little cousins how to play baseball, if you must know. I was practically a mentor to them. And I wasn’t quite a teenager yet then, anyway.”

  Peyton grinned.

  “Don’t believe him,” Jackson said. “I know his family pretty well, and I’ve heard some interesting stories about his childhood.”

  “Oh?” Peyton arched a brow.

  “So Peyton,” Elijah cut in, “you said you helped your nephew onto the bus on his first day of kindergarten. Do you do a lot of babysitting?”

  “My sister, her son and I live together. You know Madison, the co-owner of Charmed?”

  “I remember you mentioning her.”

  “Her. We’ve been sharing a house for the past seven years.”

  “Wow. You must be close.”

  Peyton nodded. “Very. Our parents worked a lot when we were kids and eventually divorced, so we were home alone together a lot and more or less became attached at the hip.”

  Elijah was about to reply when a shadow fell across the table. Make that two shadows – Mr. and Mrs. Delaney loomed behind his chair.

  He greeted them both, bracing himself for any embarrassing praise they might throw his way.

  “Herb just wanted to say hi, Officer Bennet. Don’t think he realized you were going to be here, what with those complicated schedules you officers are always working.”

  Mr. Delaney nodded in greeting.

  “Hi, Mr. Delaney. How’s business?”

  “Well enough. That damned cat threw up in a box of bolts the other day, though. Smell made a nice lady sick before I found it.” He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “Other than that, things have been just fine.”

  Mrs. Delaney frowned. “You know he can’t help it, Herb. Animals get sick too, you know.”

  Mr. Delaney shook his head again. “You manage to get
that window patched up the other week, son?”

  “I did. Thanks again for lending me your tools – couldn’t have done it without them.”

  He waved a hand. “It was nothing. Glad to help out where we can. Who’s this young lady?”

  Mrs. Delaney whispered in her husband’s ear, loud enough for the entire table to hear. “That’s the one I was telling you about – his new girlfriend. Isn’t she cute?”

  Elijah swallowed a knot of tension that sprang up in his throat and pretended he hadn’t heard. “Mr. Delaney, this is Peyton. Peyton, Mr. Delaney.”

  They shook hands, and before Elijah’s embarrassment could fade, Rogers appeared, her usual stoic expression firmly in place.

  “Grandpa, did you get any of the Mexican shrimp cocktail? I know it’s your favorite, and it’s going fast.”

  “No, honey. Your grandmother’s been busy introducing me to everyone here.” He looked around the crowded room and pushed back his shoulders. “I’ll get some eventually.”

  He didn’t sound so sure.

  Rogers cast a sideways glance at the table – particularly Elijah – as if they were the reason her grandfather hadn’t had a chance to hit the buffet.

  “I’ll get some for you. I haven’t had a chance to eat yet, either. Have a seat.”

  While Rogers was gone, Mr. and Mrs. Delaney settled at the table adjacent to Elijah’s, leaving a seat open for their granddaughter.

  It just so happened to be the closest seat to Elijah. When Rogers returned with two bowls of food, the faintest of creases appeared between her brows. As she sat down, she spoke just loud enough for Elijah to hear.

  “I’m going to turn my back on you, Bennett. Try to resist the urge to Taser me, all right?”

  “No problem, Dani.” He spoke in the same low pitch. “Wouldn’t want to cause you any injuries that might interfere with your pottery making.”

  She sat rigidly in her seat. The silence that followed was ominous, and a gut feeling told him it wouldn’t last long.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Hey man,” Jackson said, leaning against one stuccoed corner of Moreno’s exterior, “the important thing is that you made it through. The hatchet has officially been buried.”