Page 56 of Trouble Comes in Threes

“That would have been short lived,” Austin scoffed.

“You know about Denny Carmichael?” Dermot asked, assessing him.

The boy snorted. “Who doesn’t?”

“Probably most of the county,” Dermot shot back. “What’s your father’s name?”

Austin lifted his chin in defiance. “Oscar Cowan.”

“He doesn’t work for me anymore,” Dermot said, his voice neutral. “We had a difference of opinion.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a piece of shit, so I’m not surprised,” Austin said, trying to sound tough, but defeat filled his eyes. I wondered if Dermot saw it too, but then I realized, of course, he did. To succeed in his role, he needed to see everything.

Bruce Wayne’s crew were making halfhearted attempts to look like they were being productive while staring at us, but I was pretty sure one of the guys had been removing a bush from its plastic container for the past ten minutes.

“So you saw a murder out at Adkins?” Dermot asked, keeping his voice low.

“You told him?” Austin shouted at me.

Dermot held up his hands, and his face turned dark and menacing. “I’m not sure if Lady’s explained the rules, but you do not shout at her, and you will treat her with respect. Older, more badass men than you have followed those rules, so either you do the same, or we don’t help you.”

“Yeah, she already told me,” he said, walking away a few paces, then back again. “What is she? A damn princess?”

“More like a queen,” Dermot said. “And you’ll treat her as such.”

Neely Kate’s eyes widened, but Bruce Wayne didn’t look that surprised.

What stories had been spread about my involvement in their world?

“Am I supposed to call her Your Majesty?” Austin asked in a smartass tone.

Dermot took a step back and turned to me. “Cut him loose.”

I had a moment of panic. We didn’t know anything, and if my name was being tossed around, I needed to know what was being said, especially if Hardshaw or someone just as bad was out there. But I also trusted Dermot, one of the many reasons I’d called him, so I shoved my hands into my front pockets. “Okay. Good luck, Austin.” Then I turned around and started to walk back toward my car, Dermot following behind me, slightly to my left.

“Wait!” Austin called after us. “I’ll be good.”

“Keep walkin’,” Dermot said under his breath.

I took several more steps, almost reaching the curb, when Austin called out again, “Please, Lady. I need your help.”

I stopped this time and turned to Dermot, saying low enough so Austin couldn’t hear me, “I think he really saw something. Would he act so belligerent if he were here for nefarious reasons?”

“Possibly,” Dermot replied in an undertone. “If he were smart, he wouldn’t want to seem too eager.”

Not the answer I wanted to hear. “So what do you think he’s here for?”

“I’m not sure, but I’d like to find out.”

I nodded. “So we try again?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at the white picket fence next door. “If he’s here to tell us about a murder, I’d rather him not do in the Jones’ front yard.”

“The Beethams,” I said, then realized I was being too literal. “So where do we take him?”

“Let’s start out in my truck, and we’ll move him somewhere else based on what he says.”

I considered it for a moment.

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