plan to escape her horrible husband. If she could get away without him knowing where she was going, she could be free. She would have run away and come to live near me. I’m sure of it.”
Roman studied her a moment, his face unreadable. Then he lightened and asked, “Why don’t you tell me more over a drink later?”
Unable to believe he’d suggested that, she gaped at him. Had he just asked her out on a date?
He nodded down the street toward the pub. “There. After you close tonight.”
Kendra felt her jaw drop open, smart retorts popping to mind but not making their way to her tongue.
“Unless you’d rather I just send you the report?”
Roman saw Kendra walking toward him on the sidewalk and felt a surge of triumph. He hadn’t been sure she’d take the bait and meet him. He didn’t think anything she said about her sister’s death would change his initial assessment, but the contacts she’d had with her sister and their secretive nature had compelled him to at least follow up. And this wouldn’t be a complete waste of time if he shared a nice evening with a beautiful woman. His drive to avenge victims led him to where he was most needed and he had other cases that needed him more than it appeared Kendra needed him, but one night wouldn’t harm anything.
As she neared, he took in her form in a wide-leg, Jackie O–looking jumpsuit with a draped neckline, cap sleeves and a leather belt. He could see the hint of movement of her breasts and a slender waistline. She moved gracefully, long legs gliding along. She’d moved similarly in her shop last night, an angel in silhouette.
She stopped right before him. “The only reason I’m here is to talk about Kaelyn’s murder.”
“And have a drink with me.” He held the pub door open for her.
She eyed him suspiciously as she passed.
Pete’s Old Ale House teemed with business on this Wednesday evening. Workers celebrated hump day and others participated in a dart tournament. The bartender waved from behind the bar and Roman saw Kendra wave back. The fresh flowers on each round table and booth indicated the owner had a running account with her shop. She probably had a similar relationship with the baker. She must be well-known in town and have a good reputation. Marketing prowess or genuine lover of mankind? He’d met many ambitious women like her and none of them cared more about him than their passion for achievement. Still, something about her drew him in.
He followed her to the only round table left vacant. A group of men dressed in business casual laughed about the day’s highlights at the table next to them. Two women leaned forward toward each other at a booth in an intense girl talk. The dart competition made the most noise, cheers from those standing near the throwing point and nearby tables filled with friends and spouses. Regulars sat at the bar, keeping to themselves or engaging in talk with the fellow beside them.
While not a kid place, the pub was clean and well maintained for its age, which must be more than a hundred years. The wood bar with its ornate and swirling trim looked original, but refurbished, same with the trim around the mirrored wall and shelves of booze bottles. The dark brown wood floor, polished and unblemished, must have been replaced. Modern pendant lighting over the bar and larger fixtures over the dining area provided ample illumination without the glare of brightness. Historical photos on the walls finished the aesthetic appeal.
The bartender spoke to the waitress on his way over to their table. She stopped and went to another table instead.
“Your usual?” the bartender asked.
“Hi, Pete. Yes.”
“I’ll have what she’s having,” Roman said, continuing to observe the pub and its inhabitants.
The bartender returned with frosty mugs of beer.
“Imported lager,” she said, sipping. “Mmm.”
“Do you come here because he buys your flowers or for the beer?” he asked.
She smiled, her bright and sunny personality shining through. “Both. Pete’s a good guy.”
“What about the baker?”
“He and his wife are kindhearted people who love each other. Most of us can only wish we were as lucky.”
She seemed so humble for one who had so much. Uncomfortable with the spark that zapped him unexpectedly, Roman tasted the beer. Not bad. A little light, but not bad.
Her cheerful glow remained and she leaned back, drawing his attention to her teasingly concealed breasts. Why was he so attracted to her? He’d met pretty women like her before. What make her so different? If she was a cop or another detective, or anyone who worked in the trenches like him, he might understand these stirrings of desire. But she didn’t work in the trenches. She had created a perfect world for herself, even surrounding herself with friends like Pete.
Time to slow down this Cupid’s arrow. What better way than to beat her at a game of pool?
Standing, he picked up his beer. “You any good at pool?” He started for the single pool table, neglected on dart tournament night.
Lingering behind a second or two, she at last took her beer and followed. Her slow steps and curious eyes said she suspected his motives. Was this about pool or was this about the two of them?
“I thought we were going to discuss my sister’s case.” She stopped near him beside the pool table.
He choose a cue stick, ignoring how she kept calling her sister’s death a case. He hadn’t decided if it was one or not. “I’d like to get to know my new client before we get into death and destruction.”
“Does that mean you’re going to take the case?”
He had to admit, she had a strong theory that Kaelyn might have intended to run away and live near her secret twin. Kendra hadn’t been mentioned anywhere in any reports he’d read.
“Let’s play pool.” He grinned in a way that often wooed women.
She eyed him warily—she didn’t trust easily. He began to pick up on those undercurrents. She wanted to talk about Kaelyn Johnston’s death, and he wanted to slow things down. She must know or have some idea that he was attracted to her.
Finally, her cautious nature eased a little and she stepped forward to put coins in the old game table. Bent over as she inserted the coins, her eyes lifted and he saw a mischievous smile in them.
“I’m really good at this game,” she said.
Delighted she’d relented and decided to have some fun, he said with equal flirtation, “Let’s find out how good.”
He racked the balls while she chose a stick. He liked watching her move, graceful arms and legs and a shapely butt.
Facing him with a stick, she chalked the end and looked at him.
“You break,” he said.
“You are so going to lose.”
Roman chuckled as he watched her break the balls and sink a solid. Moving around the table for her next shot, she gave him another nice view of her posterior as she made another shot. She sank another solid.
“When Kaelyn and I were six, I remember I was inside playing with dolls and she got mad at me for not wanting to go outside and play on the swing set.” She lowered into position for a more complicated shot and sank yet another solid.
He began to wonder if he’d ever get to play.
“She went outside by herself.” Kendra studied the table for her next shot. “After a while, I stopped playing dolls because I had this awful feeling. My first thought was of Kaelyn.” She poised for another shot and missed this time. Unfazed, she faced him. “I left