Too Sweet to Die by T. Doyle (the false prince .TXT) 📗

my purse and took out my phone. “Ugh. Joe’s texting. I’m sorry, he’s in between cases.” I pretended to text Joe back, but took a picture of the Bias’s adoption photo and a couple of rows above it.

Where did Tyler find all these babies available for adoption? Was there such a thing as a baby-farm?

I turned to face Polly and remembered Ray’s list. I’d handled almost everything: Oscar’s mail, his relationship with Tyler, when he changed. Tyler’s calendar and clients appeared to be on Polly’s laptop. My eye caught a large photo between the windows. Brightly colored fish swam around a reef, and I saw the shadow of the photographer against the sea floor. “Who’s the photographer?”

“Tyler. And he took pictures of the babies, too. The man has some expensive hobbies, SCUBA, flying, and photography. But the rest of the time he’s working like a dog.”

“Must be hard for him to get away.” I pushed sympathy in my voice.

“I think that’s actually why he learned to fly. It allowed him to take three-day weekends even with his busy schedule.” She pointed to a picture of him standing next to an airplane.

“Who took that picture?”

Polly rolled her eyes. “His friend, Peter. He handled Tyler’s divorce. I swear, that man gives me the creeps. But he goes with Tyler SCUBA diving all the time.” She tapped her laptop. “I schedule him out every five weeks. He leaves Thursday and usually isn’t back until early Monday morning. I think even the judges have memorized his schedule.”

I grinned. “Must be nice.”

“For him. I’m stuck here answering phones and calming clients down with promises that everything’s handled for Monday at court.” She didn’t seem too upset, a chagrined smile and maybe a touch of jealousy at Tyler’s traveling habits.

“Tyler’s attorney was Peter who?” I tossed the question trying for a careless tone.

“Peter Adkins.” Polly leaned forward. “Are you and Joe okay?” she whispered.

“Absolutely, but a coworker is having some issues…” I frowned and added a shrug and hoped she’d believe my acting.

“Well, he’s creepy and I’m not sure he practices law anymore. Tyler does divorces.” She swiped a card from the drawer and handed it to me.

“Thanks, I’ll pass this along.”

Polly stared at me. Waiting. Any more questions from me and she’d get suspicious.

“Well, thanks for your advice. I’ll make up those return-to-sender stickers.” I waved good bye and left. Outside I texted Ray, inviting him to dinner at my house to discuss developments. I didn’t want to stay and risk Polly seeing Ray and I talking.

Movement across the street caught my eye. Someone sat in the SUV behind Ray’s car. The side was shaded. The driver moved, but I couldn’t see him. I drove off, looking in my rear-view mirror for the license plate.

It wasn’t there.

But he did have a TapOut and deer antler stickers on the back window. Could it be the same SUV that pulled up to the cabin? Was the driver the person who stole our picture?

He didn’t follow me. What was he doing outside Tyler’s?

Chapter Seventeen

Ray and Joe entered the kitchen through the garage door. Joe swept me into his arms and kissed me. He tilted me back over his arm. “Wench, bring us ale and vittles.”

My grip tightened on his shoulders and I wrinkled my nose. “Did you get too much second-hand anesthesia, today?”

My ravenous rogue winked. “I slept well last night and I’m home before dark.”

“I noticed.” I kissed his cheek. “I picked up a chicken. Get your own ale.”

He righted me. “Yes, ma’am.” He opened the fridge, pulled out the milk carton, the hummus, the creamer, and then two beers. He replaced all the food, with the finesse of an all-star Tetris player. “Seems like with just the two of us there should be more room in the fridge. Right?” Joe handed a beer to Ray and twisted the top off his.

“I think because there’s just the two of us, it doesn’t empty as fast.” I added a vinaigrette to the steamed green beans and placed them on the table.

Joe poured a glass of wine for me and grabbed plates, silverware, and the roll of paper towels for napkins. He nodded to Ray. “Have a seat.”

Ray sat in Drew’s place which was weird, even with the kids gone I still thought of each chair belonging to them. I slid the rotisserie chicken onto a platter, added a fork and a carving knife, and handed it to Joe.

He dissected the chicken because as an orthopedic surgeon, he didn’t carve. “Ray said Evie Feeney had a bag of drugs in her room and tried to pin it on Jenny.” Joe handed me the chicken and plopped salad on his plate.

“That happened.” I sat next to Joe at the table and sipped my wine. “It was an interesting day.”

“Did they find any medical marijuana?” Joe slid a chicken leg onto his plate.

“No, but they found Percocet, Fentanyl, and Valium. Marabel thinks someone is stealing a pill or two at a time from the patients.” I took a hunk of chicken breast and glanced at Ray. “Serve yourself, boarding house rules.”

His lips twitched. Ray added salad and green beans to his plate. “What are boarding house rules?”

“One foot must stay on the floor, everything else is legal. Including stealing from a plate,” Joe said.

Ray grinned. “Just like home.” He snatched the other chicken leg. “This explains why all the Sanders have such fast hands.”

“Sander’s family motto, ‘It’s not yours until you’ve licked it.’” Joe reached over and squeezed my thigh.

“That’s actually disturbing,” Ray said, but he didn’t look disturbed. He turned to me. “Did you find out anything from Polly?”

“I did. Polly said Oscar asked about Tyler’s friend and acted weird after he added photos to Tyler’s wall of adoptions.” I sipped my wine.

“Weird how?” Ray asked.

“He became quiet, kept to himself. Polly asked him if anything was wrong and he told her he was fine. But here’s the thing, Tyler’s handled our nephew Paul’s adoption twelve years ago.