Page 69

“Now you're being unreasonable.”

“Ricky.”

He looked from her to me, then back at the board. With a theatrical sigh, he lowered the marker and began peeling a strip of tape from the top corner.

“I'll put it away,” he said. “But I reserve the right to continue my private research.”

“Your private research,” Tammy said, “consists of staring at people's heads.”

“Observation is the foundation of research.”

“So is having actual information.”

He gave her a wounded look, but he folded the paper in half before tucking it beneath the counter. I suspected it wouldn't stay there for long. Ricky had never met an opinion he couldn't improve by sharing it with someone else.

As he straightened, his gaze shifted toward me. “Have you heard anything new?”

The question took some of the humor out of the room. I knew what he meant, and I also knew how easily a casual conversation could turn into a discussion of things none of us had the information to explain.

“Nothing I can add to what the sheriff is already looking into,” I said. “And I'm not going to speculate about who killed Harvey.”

Ricky nodded, though I could tell he wasn't entirely satisfied. “Fair enough. I just hate not knowing what's going on.”

“So does everyone else,” Tammy said. “That doesn't mean we get to make things up.”

“I haven't made anything up. I've interpreted the available evidence.”

“Hair isn't evidence.”

“It's vibes,” he said again, but this time his voice held less certainty.

I shook my head, smiling. “You should put that on a T-shirt.”

“Now there's an idea. I could sell them at the festival next year. 'It's Vibes: The Official Hartwell Cove Investigative Method.'”

“I'm sure the sheriff would love that,” I said.

Ricky's grin turned mischievous. “Maybe I should send him a copy of the board. He might appreciate a fresh perspective.”

“Don't you dare.”

“Why not?”

“Because Josiah has enough to deal with without you sending him a suspect ranking based on hair.”

The mention of Josiah's name brought a familiar little pull beneath my ribs. It was ridiculous how quickly my thoughts could turn toward him, even in the middle of a conversation about Ricky's questionable investigative talents. I wondered whether he was at the sheriff's office, working through statements and timelines, or out talking to someone who might have seen something useful at the festival. I hoped he was remembering to eat, though I knew better than to assume it.

More importantly, I hoped he was still keeping me in the loop as he'd promised. I wasn't expecting him to tell me everything, and I wasn't going to ask him to compromise his investigation just to reassure me. But knowing he would share what he could, rather than shutting me out as he once had, mattered more than I wanted to admit. I wasn't ready to trust him with my heart again. That didn't mean I couldn't recognize when he was trying to earn that trust.

“Max?”

Tammy's voice brought me back to the salon. She was watching me with the knowing expression of someone who had known me long enough to recognize when my attention had wandered.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was thinking.”

“About the murder or the sheriff?”

“Those are not mutually exclusive.”