Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
My hair was still damp from my post-run shower as I grabbed one of the colorful hand-painted wooden chairs across from Holden. I’d walked the short distance to Blessed Bean, which was in an older building on the edge of downtown Safe Harbor.
“Ha. Rob was in earlier, all happy you’re freeing Knox from the laundry room.” Holden laughed before taking a sip of his half-empty coffee. He was braver than me if he trusted Sam’s drip coffee. Unlike the big national chains, Blessed Bean’s quality could vary wildly from drink to drink. “And Rob also said to ask you to bring one of the cold cases you’re working on to an episode of my podcast.”
“You have a podcast now, Professor?” I was more than happy to grab any topic that wasn’t gossip about my living arrangements. Holden was a professor of criminal justice at the nearby community college, a role he’d assumed after being injured in the line of duty as a police officer.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Holden gave a smug smile. “Mistakes Were Made is actually rather popular beyond the usual criminal justice circles. We look at where various investigations went wrong. You have a case you’d like to bring on to dissect?”
“Hmm. Let me think.” I wasn’t afraid of public speaking, and an hour or two spent recording something with Holden was hardly a chore. Like in high school, I found him easy to be around. For all his extroverted, busy-body nature, he was also kind and nonjudgmental, and his sense of humor tended to make time pass quickly. “A couple of the cases I’m reviewing might fit. And I’m thinking of taking another look at the Stapleton case.”
Holden sucked in a breath. “Yeah. That’s a hornet’s nest of a case, all right. Everyone around here just assumes the husband did it, but without a body for the wife, there’s far more speculation than evidence. And, of course, rumors persist that the house is haunted.”
“I know. I run by it every morning. It’s sad, seeing it in such disrepair.” The Stapleton house was down the street from Aunt Henri’s place, another rambling turn-of-the-century home in far worse shape than Aunt Henri’s, thanks to two decades of mystery surrounding what had happened to Mrs. Stapleton. She’d disappeared before her husband later succumbed to a massive heart attack, but some thought his death was also rather suspicious. And then there were those like me who missed their son, Worth, the most. Brilliant and friendly, he’d been a big part of my high-school years. “Do you ever hear from Worth?”
“Nah. He left for good.” Eyes growing distant, Holden shook his head. Worth had been his friend too. “I heard he’s an investment banker of some kind in California. Maybe you can look him up when you move?”
“Don’t be so quick to ship Monroe out.” Sam had an easy smile as he brought me my cold brew and a muffin, the same as the last few Tuesdays. “And yes, do that case for the podcast. It never sat right with me how fast everyone was to rush to judgment.”
Sam might have been younger than us, but he knew exactly who Worth was. His puppy-dog crush on Worth had been so painfully obvious at the time, a stark contrast to Sam’s current cautious and collected demeanor.
“People generally are.” I picked at the muffin’s wrapper. It wasn’t only missing-person cases. People loved to judge. Not that I was going to act on the attraction with Knox, but it wasn’t only Rob who would have an issue if we hooked up. Everyone in this whole town would have an opinion. “I’ll take a look at those case files and get back to you on a time for the podcast.”
“Excellent.” Holden toasted me with his cup.
“Oh, and congrats on the new helper for your house.” Sam wiped down the table next to ours.
I groaned. “Not you too.”
“Hey, Knox is a good one. Beyond looking like some superhero who moonlights as a pro-surfer, he’s smart and a hard worker.”
“Is looks like a pro-surfer Sam-speak for Knox is easy on the eyes?” Holden teased. At odds with his besotted younger self, Sam seemed contentedly single and devoted to his charity for at-risk teens who ran the coffee house. If he dated, I hadn’t heard about it.
And he might be closer in age to Knox, but the thought of Sam crushing on him had me making an indignant noise. “He’s a kid.”
“Chill. He’s twenty-three. More than legal. And looking isn’t a crime.” Holden rolled his eyes like I was the unreasonable one, and even Sam laughed.
“Kind of hard not to look, but he could be sixty-eight, and I still wouldn’t want to face Rob’s wrath.” Sam headed back to the counter. “Want me to ring you up?”
“Sure. I better head out anyway. I have to let Knox in.” I glanced down at my phone. Crap. I was cutting it kind of close. Only a few months off-duty, I was already falling away from the early-to-everything habit. And showing up with my half-full to-go cup felt a little rude. “Maybe I should grab Knox a coffee too. What does he drink?”