He didn’t, so I babbled, because I was a certified dork. “Yeah, being single after college is weird. All those dating apps and shit. Weird.”
“That it is.”
“Full disclosure: I just got out of a relationship,” I offered.
“I know, your sister told me all about it. The novelist in Boston. Literary Fiction Larry.”
“Great. Way to go, Vera.” I rolled my eyes. “His name was Lawrence.”
“An excellent name for a lit fic bro.” Jack grinned and inhaled the second donut. “Did he write anything I’ve heard of?”
“Probably not. He wrote a book about the existential crisis of a teaching assistant at an Ivy League school who then bones several blonde co-eds.”
“Sounds scintillating. A bit clichéd, though.”
I chuckled.
“These are incredible donuts. Where’d you get them?” he said in between bites.
I mentioned the bakery. “So, do you like the digs?” I waved my hand in the air, wanting to change the subject. I almost wanted to ask him to put on a shirt, but Horny Me wouldn’t allow that.
His place was a small two-room cabin, with wood logs for walls and high, exposed beams. Vera had decorated it in a tropical cozy style, with soft, airy tones and dark accents. There was a comfy rattan sofa, sheer fabric curtains over the windows, and a few strategically placed zebra-print pillows. On the walls were framed maps of Spanish Florida and a black-and-white print of our dad on an airboat in the Everglades, his long beard flapping in the wind.
An antique mahogany desk was covered with two computer screens, books, and papers, and I turned to Jack. “Is that where you write?”
“That’s where the magic happens, such that it is. Love the cabin. It’s perfect for what I need.”
“Did I interrupt your writing? I’m sorry.” I bit my lip.
He shook his head. “You can interrupt me anytime, Maggie, especially if you bring donuts. Do you want some coffee?”
I was already well caffeinated, but what the heck. “Sure. I’m here to discuss some stuff. Not just ask about your marital status. I mean, I was curious about that, but I have other things to tell you.” I groaned and shook my head. “Sorry. I’m quite overwhelmed this morning. Some really weird stuff went down. Super strange. It’s about Gene.”
He quirked a black eyebrow and went to the coffee pot. “Weirder than an anonymous woman with a monkey?”
I plunked onto the sofa with a sigh. “Actually, yes. I think it’s significant for our, ah... what are we calling this?”
“Our investigation?”
“Yeah. That. I need to debrief.”
“Lay it on me. Cream? Sugar?”
“Black.”
He handed me a mug, then threw on a wrinkled button-down shirt, much to my dismay.
Still, that made it easier to tell him about my morning. I was relieved that the attraction between us was dissipating, too.
I described how Gene’s wife didn’t seem upset in the least, recounted the strange conversation I’d overheard, and showed him the photo I’d snapped of the picture of Gene and Tyler and the other guy.
“I don’t recognize the third man, who’s holding the gator tail. But wait, there’s more.” I paused to take a breath and a sip of coffee, realizing I’d left the half-finished coffee I bought back inside the house. I was discombobulated from all the caffeine and chaos swirling in my brain.
Jack reached for a yellow legal pad and a pen and started scribbling. “I need to get this down. This is great stuff. Excellent job.”
His praise sent a little fizz of happiness through me, and I told him about my sister and Tyler’s down-low relationship. “I’m worried about her. Tyler was a nasty teenager and something tells me he hasn’t had a change of heart. And the fact that he went on a hunt with Gene is super sketchy, in my opinion.”
Jack tapped the pen on his chin, which was covered in dark stubble. “What does Tyler do, other than city council?”