Snuffed Out - Tim Myers [47]
I wasn’t about to let up on him. If he was that taken with Sanora, could he be pushed to commit murder to save his chances with her? It was hard not to let my dislike for the man creep into my judgment. Blast it all, it was almost as if I wanted him to be guilty.
My stomach rumbled as I got into my truck, and I suddenly had no taste for the spaghetti I’d planned to cook for myself. Fortunately, A Slice of Heaven was on my way home. April May was behind the counter, and the place was hopping, as usual. All the tables were full, and there were a few kids at the door waiting for one to open up. The jukebox was serenading the crowd with some jazz, and I wondered who had redeemed their pizza for Miles Davis. Whoever it was, I approved. That was April’s thing. Some places gave out free pizzas; April allowed a frequent diner to choose his own record for the jukebox. But not even the music could make me feel like being part of the crowd. There were times, more and more lately, it seemed, that I didn’t want much company during my time away from At Wick’s End.
I studied April May as she zipped around the ovens and register, and I wondered if she ever got a break.
I asked, “Do you have a night off, April?”
She cut a pizza she’d just taken out of the oven and expertly slid it into a box. “Why Harrison, are you asking me out on a date?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“What, you think you could do better?” she asked, and I couldn’t for the life of me tell if she was being serious or not.
“To be perfectly honest with you, I have a feeling I’d be overmatched.”
That brought a chuckle, and a sigh of relief from me. She said, “I’ve got a feeling you’d be right.” She looked around me, then asked, “What happened, run out of eligible young women? Last time you were here you went through two in one evening. My friend, Micah’s Ridge isn’t ill that big for you to be so casual about it all.”
“I don’t guess you’d believe me if I told you neither one was a date.”
She patted my hand after she passed the boxed pizza to its owner. “If it makes you feel any better believing that,, you go right ahead.”
I knew it was a hopeless battle, sparring with her like that. “April, I’d like a medium pepperoni pizza, to go.”
She said, “Come on, Harrison, I didn’t mean anything by it. If you want to stay, I’ll find you a table.”
“Honestly, I’m not much in the mood for company tonight.”
She nodded. “If you want to wait outside, I’ll have your pizza ready in twelve minutes.”
“Sounds great. I’ll be out by my truck.” I slid my money across to her, and she rang up the sale. “Thanks, April.”
“You’re most welcome.”
Outside, the night air was growing chilly, and I was happy for the chance to wear one of my rugby shirts. I’d never played, but I loved the thick cotton of the jerseys and the bright patterns of cloth. Years before, I’d stumbled across a sale at Kohl’s and happened to have enough with me to buy an even half-dozen. I had enough jerseys to last me for years.
As I leaned against my truck waiting for my pizza, I watched folks come and go, happy and lost in their own little worlds. I wanted to be a part of them, but I couldn’t bring myself to joining them.
April came out right on schedule. On top of the pizza box was a bottle of beer. “You looked like you could use a drink when you got home.”
I reached for my wallet, but she said, “It’s on the house.” As she handed them over, she said, “You’re just one pie away from your own song. Any ideas about what you might pick?”
“I really liked the Miles Davis you had on when I came in.”
April looked around, then lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but I picked that one myself. Don’t get