Page 668 of Love Bites

Dom shook his head. “Noted.” He stood up. “Let’s get you introduced to President Lowry.”

As we made our way over, Willy Boden noticed Dominic and her expression soured. For a woman who just lost a boyfriend, she didn’t seem all that upset, but I suppose everyone grieves in his or her own way. Her brother seemed to be perpetually sour. I wondered if anything brought him pleasure.

Maybe skinning therians and slitting their throats, I thought morbidly.

Randy Lowry, or at least I assumed so since he was always smiling and his identical twin sat like a lump, jumped up from his seat. “Hey, Dom.” He shook Dominic’s hand. “And how nice of you to bring us such attractive scenery to go along with our delicious meals.” He looked at me as if he wanted to make a meal out of me.

I laughed. “You’re a funny man, Randy.”

He glanced down at his brother. “She can already tell us apart.”

Chance didn’t bother to respond.

The fiery redhead stood up next. She held out her hand to me and gave mine a firm, confident shake. “I’m Willy Boden.”

“Chavvah Trimmel.”

“Nice to meet you, Chavvah.” She clutched her hands. “This is so awful. Both killings.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.

“Poor Jerry. Goddamn maniac getting him, of all things.” She threw up her hands. “And skinning him.” Her raised voice attracted stares from the other diners.

“Calm down, Willy. We don’t want to get everyone riled up,” the large, older man said.

“People should be riled up,” Willy said. “It’s been a security nightmare, for shit’s sake. The town folk should be in their homes, doors locked, and refusing to leave until this goddamn week is over. And the council members and the tourists should be doing the same thing.”

Hans glowered. “You go too far, Wilhelmina. Sit down.”

“When I put you in charge of my ass, I’ll send out an official memo. Until then, fuck off.”

I couldn’t hide my smile. I liked Willy Boden, which meant I hoped like hell she had nothing to do with the murders. I turned to the older man. “You must be President Lowry. It’s so nice to meet you.”

He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “You own that deli down the street, Sunny’s Outreach?”

He made it sound like a halfway house. “Outlook,” I said. “Sunny’s Outlook.” I tried hard not to look irritated. “We specialize in vegetarian meals. We’ll be supplying food for your big meeting tomorrow.”

“Good, good,” he said with bluster. “Nice town you have here. Too bad about the trouble. It’s been an…inconvenience.”

Jacob Lowry made serial killing sound like a flat tire or a broken washer. I was certain Mike Wares and Jerard Blackwell wouldn’t have agreed.

“Good grief.” Hans Fisk stood up. “I’m going back to the Hilltop Hotel. I can’t take any more of this.”

When he raised his hand as if to fend off any arguments, the sleeve of his shirt slid up revealing a tattoo. A star tattoo. “That’s nice,” I blurted out.

“What are you on about?” Hans asked.

“Your tattoo,” I said, then idiotically added, “I’ve been thinking about getting one myself. Can I see yours?”

“No,” he replied, his voice flat. “Willy, text me if this ban on leaving town is lifted.”

“Wait up,” Chance said as he got up from the table. “I’ll walk out with you.”

Hans stalked out of the restaurant with Chance on his heels and a scowl on his face.

“Well, I certainly didn’t mean to offend him,” I said to Willy.

“Don’t mind Hans. He was born dramatic,” she said.

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