Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [75]
“Huh?”
“Sure. It’s all about devil worship. It’s a celebration of the occult.”
“You believe that?”
“No. But my parents did.”
“Wow.” She tried to think of something more intelligent to say, but could not.
“Yeah, wow. That pretty much sums it up.”
“I’m . . . I’m sorry, Will.”
“Thank you, Cahill. That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in a long time.” He continued staring straight ahead. “What was the name of that road again?”
“Essington.”
They drove in silence for another minute, then Miranda said, “It’s kind of sad, don’t you think, that we know so little about each other? I mean, we’ve slept together a dozen or so times, and we don’t really know each other very well at all.”
“I think the times we slept together, we weren’t concerned about how well we knew each other.”
“That doesn’t speak well for either of us.” There was a hint of regret in her voice.
“It’s not too late, you know.”
“For what?”
“To get to know each other.”
“Maybe,” she said softly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“There’s Essington up there at the light.” She pointed.
“Are you trying to change the subject?”
“You betcha. Take a left here.”
“And then what?”
“Then you go about three hundred yards to . . . yes, there it is. Buckeye Bob’s. Right where it’s supposed to be. Pull in here. . . .”
He made a right into the parking lot and stopped the car.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to tell me where to park.”
“Very funny. Move it.”
He grinned and made a wide circle in the parking lot before parking the car in a space near the front door.
“Is this close enough for you?” he asked.
“You are pushing your luck today, Fletcher.” She got out of the car, slammed the door, and walked up the wide concrete steps, then paused at the top to wait for Will.
“I trust you’d like to do most of the talking,” he said as he came up the steps.
“Well, I am lead on the case, but you can feel free to chime in at any time.”
“I’ll do that.” He held the door for her, then held it a moment longer for the three women who were leaving the restaurant.
“Table for two?” the hostess asked.
“Please,” Miranda said with a nod.
“It will be about five minutes.”
“That’s fine,” Will told her, then stepped back so as not to block the doorway.
“What exactly does Mr. Johnson do here?”
“I think he’s the manager.”
“And this is his shift, right?”
“The sergeant said Johnson would be working tonight.”
A waitress appeared and motioned for them to follow her to a booth toward the back. Miranda slid into her seat and shrugged out of her jacket.
“Oh, look. There’s a sign that says they make old-fashioned milk shakes here.” She was grinning from ear to ear. “Yum.”
When the waitress reappeared with menus, Miranda shook her head. “Don’t need the menu. I’ll have a black-and-white milk shake and a burger.”
Will suppressed a smile and ordered the same.
“Copycat,” she taunted.
“It sounded too good to miss out on.”
“Portia and I used to go to this little place when we visited our grandmother in Nebraska. Dolan’s. They made the most incredible milk shakes ever. We’d arrive at the house and make nice with Gramma for a while, then when she and Mom would hunker down on the back porch with tea, Portia and I would race down to Dolan’s.” A cloud passed over her face briefly.
“What?” he asked.
“What what?”
“What was that little bit of a frown for?”
“Mr. Dolan wasn’t always very nice to us. He knew our mother in school, and sometimes, when we came in, he’d make a big deal out of us.” She lowered her voice. “ ‘Well, well, what have we here? Looks like Nancy Cahill’s little girls. How’s your mother doing, girls? She ever get married?’ “
“Wow. That’s ugly.” Will frowned. “Those must have been some great milk shakes, for you to keep going back there.”
“He wasn’t always there. Most times, someone else was working the counter. We used to sort of tiptoe in. If he wasn’t around, we’d feel like the gods were smiling on us that day.” She shrugged. “Besides, there was no other place to go in town, and