Page 22 of The Murder Club

“A fossilized dinosaur egg.”

Bailey arched her brows. “How did someone end up with a spare dinosaur egg lying around?”

“His grandfather was an archaeologist in the days when it was acceptable to travel around and dig up treasures to bring home. He claimed he had a dozen of them in his basement.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Did you buy it?”

“I did.” His smile widened with genuine pleasure. “I later donated it to the University of Nevada to use in their research.”

“That was generous.”

He waved aside her admiration. Bailey was learning that he was amazingly humble despite his success.

“I do a job I enjoy and have been fortunate enough to make a lot of money.” He nodded toward her. “Nothing like what you do. I would never have the patience.”

“I always knew I wanted to be a nurse, but I didn’t expect to stay in Pike after I earned my degree,” she admitted.

“So why did you?”

“I like having residents instead of patients,” she said, trying to ignore how boring her life must sound to a man who’d immigrated when he was sixteen and created a small empire with a famous stuntman. “Most of the people at the home I’ve known my entire life and were friends of Nana. Plus, I’m not always rushing from one room to another.” She fidgeted with her wineglass. She loved gossiping and chatting with people, but she never felt comfortable discussing her personal life. Probably because she didn’t have a personal life. At least nothing worth talking about. “I can actually take time to listen to the residents and make sure everything is okay with them. It’s going to be hard—” Bailey snapped her lips shut.

Dammit, she didn’t want anyone to know that she’d been kicked out. Especially not this man. She didn’t want pity.

He studied her with a puzzled expression. “What’s going to be hard?”

“Nothing.” She grabbed the box and held it toward Dom. “More pizza?”

There was a brief silence, as if Dom wanted to press her for an explanation. Then, accepting she wasn’t in the mood to reveal what had happened, he grabbed the last slice.

“The answer to that question is always yes.”

Chapter 5

Two hours later, Bailey parked her car next to the curb, cracking the window for the dogs, who were sleeping in a tight pile on the floorboard.

She’d fully intended to head home as she waved goodbye to Dom. For the first time in hours the dark sense of doom had been forgotten, replaced with a delicious tingle of anticipation as they’d sat side by side on the outdoor swing, watching the dogs play. Each casual brush of his hand and lingering glance had created dizzying sparks in the pit of her stomach.

It’d been an eternity since she’d been attracted to a man. And never with this sort of intensity. She’d be an idiot not to savor the rare sensations.

Once she was alone, however, the memory of Gage Warren and his vile accusations crashed into her. As if it’d been hovering just out of sight with the intention of punishing Bailey for having the audacity to enjoy her lunch. With a grimace, she’d realized there was no way she could go home and watch television. Not when she’d be wondering if Gage was going to show up at her door, or if Zac was busy checking out her alibi so he didn’t have to arrest her for murder.

Besides, as annoyed as she might be by the persistent person trying to include her in a private game, she was genuinely interested in what had happened to Pauline Hartford. She might have quit the online group, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still fascinated by unsolved crimes.

It’d been easy to find the house. It was located in the most expensive part of town. Of course, the worst part of town was just a couple of blocks away. There were no such things as suburbs in this area of Wisconsin.

Climbing out of the truck, Bailey shoved her hands into the pockets of her light jacket and studied the house. It was the sort of split-level, brick home that had become popular in the fifties and sixties. The roof was made from wooden shingles and there was a screened-in porch that hid most of the front of the house. The yard was twice the size of its neighbors, and Bailey assumed it’d been built before the other properties were divided in half to maximize profit.

It had almost a fortress feel to it, she acknowledged, her gaze moving to the high fence that surrounded the backyard. A house that stood defiantly against the encroaching tide of change.

“If you’re here for the open house, it’s been canceled.”

Bailey flinched, belatedly realizing she was no longer alone. Turning her head, she discovered a young woman with a mass of curly brown hair and a heart-shaped face standing next to her. The stranger was holding onto a leash that was attached to a small, wiry dog who was busy sniffing Bailey’s shoes.

Forcing a smile, Bailey held out her hand, trying to look casual. “Hi, I’m Bailey Evans.”

The woman shook her hand. “Janet Stone.”

Bailey glanced toward the house next door, where a large FOR SALE sign was planted in the front yard.

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