Page 118 of Trouble Comes in Threes

I gave her a big smile. “Thanks.”

She disappeared in the back, then came back out with a man in his thirties.

He gave me a wary look as he approached. “I’m Scott. I hear you’re lookin’ for me?”

“Hi, Scott. I’m Rose. I just spoke with Darlene Smith. She suggested that I talk to you about her brother, Harvey. Do you have a moment to talk?”

His face paled. “Are you with the cops?”

The girl at the register’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open in shock.

“No,” I said with a short laugh. “Like I said, I’m a friend of Darlene’s. I’m only trying to help her.”

He glanced over at the girl and wiped his hands on his uniform pants. “Kylie, I’m gonna take a short break. Let everyone know not to bother me.” He walked around the counter and headed toward me.

“Let’s sit over by the window,” he said, sounding nervous as he walked past me into the dining room.

I followed him into the unoccupied room and sat across from him at a four-top table.

“What did you say your name was again?” he asked, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“Rose, and like I said, Darlene suggested I talk to you.”

“What about?”

I took a breath as I folded my hands on the tabletop, deciding to keep my threat under wraps for the moment. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news about Harvey.”

He swallowed hard, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“I heard you two liked to hang out together on the weekends.”

“Why exactly did Darlene suggest you talk to me?”

“I’m trying to help her figure out what happened to Harvey.”

Fear filled his eyes. “Are you with the police?”

“No,” I said with a short laugh. “Definitely not. I’m kind of like a private investigator.” He seemed to relax a tiny bit, so I repeated my question. “So you and Harvey hung out on the weekends?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, we hung out sometimes.”

“And had a good time doin’ it,” I said matter-of-factly.

He squirmed in his seat. “Why exactly are you talkin’ to me?”

“What do you know about what happened to Harvey?”

His face paled. “I heard he got shot.”

“Do you have any idea who would want Harvey dead?”

“You think I know a murderer?” he asked, looking like he was about to vomit.

I cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Scott. You would know better than me.” I paused. “Most people are murdered by someone they know. Who wanted Harvey dead?”

“I didn’t know him that well, so I don’t know.”

“Really?” I said, feigning surprise. “I heard you two go way back.”

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