Page 20 of A Christmas Mystery

“No worries. It’s been a long time.”

“I haven’t seen you around town lately.” He furrows his brow. “Have I?”

“No, I’ve been gone for a couple of years, ever since the car accident.”

“I was really sorry to hear about that. What are you up to now?” He’s obviously just being polite. He has no particular interest in talking to me, but he’s going through the motions of civility.

“Maya has made an impressive name for herself on social media,” Theo puts in before I can give my normal self-deprecating response to this kind of question.

“Oh really?” Mick visibly perks up. “Are you one of those influencers? My girlfriend is trying to do that. Everything’s about posting on her Instagram and TikTok. Do you have a lot of followers?”

I meet his eyes blandly. “I have a decent number, yes.”

“Do you think you can maybe put in a good word for Krystal? She does all these videos of herself primping in her clothes and hair and makeup. If you have a lot, maybe you can give her a boost.”

This is not the first and won’t be the last time this brand of inquiry is aimed at me, and I’m practiced in dealing with it. “I’m not sure my brand will really fit hers, but I wouldn’t mind giving her account a look.”

I wait for a minute as Mick pulls up Instagram on his phone so he can tell me his girlfriend’s handle. I make a show of jotting it down and saying I’ll look through it, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to help her much.

Mick appears satisfied with my gesture. He turns back to Theo and says, “Hey, thanks again for helping out Jake last year.”

Theo gives an appropriate response and catches my eye with a silent question. I give my head a discreet shake.

There is absolutely no reason to go through with the questions we planned in advance for these encounters. There’s no way in the world Mick is my pen pal unless he’s the most convincing actor I’ve ever seen.

He has no idea who I am online, and he doesn’t care, except in how I might help his girlfriend. He’s not the person we’re looking for.

Theo reads my signal and tells Mick we’ve got to get going. We tell him goodbye as he returns to his parents, who were waiting for him at the foot of the steps.

“Well, that’s another one we can cross off,” Theo says as he takes my arm as we walk away.

I turn my head to shoot one more smile at Father Paul, who is still being monopolized by the old woman, before I look back up at Theo. “Yep. One down. Nine more to go.”

***

OUR NEXT STOP IS Abistro downtown for brunch since one of our potentials is the owner and is always there on Sundays, the biggest day of the week for the restaurant.

It’s crowded, of course, since it’s prime time for weekend brunch. We have to wait twenty minutes to get a table and then another half hour for our food. At that point, we’ve still seen no sign of Jesse Angus. Theo finally asks our friendly server, who tells us that Jesse is on vacation for a week.

So our entire goal in coming here gets thrown out the window. At least the food is good. I eat most of my Belgian waffle and a section of Theo’s omelet. (He offers a much bigger piece than I expect when I ask for a taste.)

Fortunately, most of the people brunching here today are the ultrawealthy in town. Not the regular wealthy of most of our social circle. So I only recognize a few people, and they don’t recognize me at all.

The whole thing takes almost two hours out of our day for no purpose, but I don’t have as bad a time as I would have expected. Theo has gotten less silent and scowly with me as the weekend has passed. He’s still not what I would consider a chatter, but he answers questions readily and he asks a few of his own. We talk at first about our strategy for the last two potentials on our list for today. Then he asks me about some of the places I’ve traveled over the past two years, and that conversation takes us through the end of our meal and then almost twenty minutes after we’re done eating.

It’s fine. We’ve already planned to spend all day together—at least until we encounter and talk to everyone on our list. It’s not like it matters if we’re hanging out having brunch or killing time in the car, waiting for our next man to ambush.

On our way out, someone calls out to Theo, so we pause to say hello to a very handsome man and a blonde who is obviously his wife. Friendly and engaging, the man smiles at me after he greets Theo.

I might stare just a little. The man is ridiculously good-looking with the most vivid green eyes I’ve ever seen.

“This is Maya Alexander,” Theo says, putting a hand on my back to nudge me forward slightly. It felt like his conversation, so I was standing a step farther back. “Maya, this is Lincoln and Summer Wilson.”

Lincoln Wilson. That’s a name I’ve heard before. He’s several years older than us, and I don’t actually remember ever seeing him in person before. He’s the son of one of Green Valley’s premiere families, and his wife is the only heir of a billionaire’s fortune.

These are lofty circles indeed.

I expect either Lincoln or Summer to associate me with Chris—since that car accident that killed him was big news in town for months—but they don’t appear to recognize my name. Lincoln asks me about myself briefly, and then he asks Theo about his work. Summer asks what we got for brunch, and the conversation ends naturally on a friendly note.

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