Red Rum: A Rosie Casket Mystery by R.M. Wild (top 100 novels of all time .TXT) 📕

“How was the lake?”

I froze.

“The cameras, remember?”

I had forgotten all about the security cameras and suddenly felt like I was standing in one of those full-body scanners at the airport.

“I-it started to rain so I came back up.”

“Be careful down there. I haven’t gotten a chance to renovate the dock. I’d hate to be watching the security cameras and see you fall in and be too far away to help. We’ve got lots of slippery critters around these parts, especially Northern Water Snakes. I caught one in the basement last month and had to use a pitchfork to get it out.”

I winced. “What do you have a pitchfork for?”

“I have no idea. It was here before the renovations,” he said as he reached into the grocery bag and pulled out two bottles of rum and set them on the counter with a double heavy clink. “Shall we imbibe?”

I stared at the bottles. The bearded skull stared back at me.

Red Rum.

“Wha—what is that doing here?”

“What?”

I pointed at it with a shaky finger. “The rum.”

“This? This is the best rum I’ve ever tasted. You don’t need to pass the bar exam to know how good this stuff is. What’s the matter? You don’t like it?”

I had an urge to grab the bottles and crack him over the head. “Red Rum was Peter Hardgrave’s brand.”

Kendall turned the bottles around to look at the label. “It is?”

“Yes. It isn’t being brewed anymore. Where did you get it?”

“It’s—from my own collection. I bought a few cases from the Gold Bug Tavern a while ago. I had no idea it was Hardgrave’s brand. I just thought he sold it. Now I feel really stupid. I can take them back if they bother you.”

“No, don’t do that. Just leave it,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”

Kendall put the bottles back into the bag. “I’m really sorry. I was going to ask if you wanted to join me in a little escapism, but I guess that can wait.”

“Did you get my phone charger?”

“Rats. I knew I forgot something. I will get you one tomorrow. I promise.”

I went to the French doors and watched the rain streak down the glass. It ran in crooked rivulets toward the floor and a puddle was spreading from under the door toward my toes.

Kendall came and put a towel on the floor to sop it up. “Unfortunately, there’s a tear in the weather seal. I haven’t gotten it fixed yet.”

I stepped aside so he could wipe up the leak. “Have you heard anything about Matt’s funeral?”

“Not yet.”

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to go.”

“No can do. You need to stay here, Rosie. Your life is at risk.”

“I’ll take that risk. I’ll wear a disguise or something.”

“I can’t let you do that, Rosie.”

“It’s my choice, Kyle. I can’t stay here forever.”

“Yes, but I won’t let you do something stupid. When I was at the office today, I did some digging into this Roman Caesar fellow you mentioned. I had forgotten that I had actually represented him a few months back, however briefly.”

“You did?”

“Yes, for drug possession. Mettle had arrested him. It was one of the first cases I took in Dark Haven. I had forgotten all about it. He had been found with half a pound of weed stashed inside a Bible, but it was right before Maine voted to legalize, so I got him off. I had spent all of three hours representing him. My point is, we had some files on him at the office. I dug into his past a little bit and discovered that when he was a teenager, he had been arrested for arson.”

I stared at the grocery bags. The shapes of the rum bottles were still visible.

I could have sworn Mettle had said he arrested Caesar for hiding Molly inside a hymnal.

“That particular case never went to court either. Not enough evidence. But it confirms your suspicion that Roman Caesar is a dangerous man. If there’s any chance that he murdered Matt Mettle, then you can not risk five minutes inside a jail cell, not if you have any interest in staying alive.”

34

I sat on one of the barstools at the counter while Kendall spread more towels over the leak in the door. He mumbled something about a chink in the armor and a crack in the castle wall.

“I’m worried about Caesar too,” I said, “but I have a business. A life. Friends—or one friend, at least. And a father. I need to get back to the inn. I can’t stay here forever.”

Kendall looked up from the endeavor, his face red. “You have to relax. Eldritch is in charge of the inn. He can take care of it.”

“I do trust him, but I don’t want to stay in hiding. I need to resurrect my business. I need money.”

“Don’t worry about money. I’ve got plenty.”

There was no way I was going to live off an allowance for the rest of my life. “This isn’t the first time someone’s been after me, you know. I’ll be super careful.”

“Have the cops been after you before?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t know what it’s like. You’re vulnerable from both sides. There’s no reason why Caesar should wait until you’re in jail to come after you. If he thinks you’re a loose thread, he’ll try to snip you loose,” Kendall said. “Or cauterize the ends.” He stood and stuffed the last towel into the crack at the bottom of the door with the pointed toe cap of his shiny shoe. “None of this was my choice, you know. I wish our first outing together was somewhere in Jamaica or something. Maybe one of those all inclusive resorts.”

“Our first outing?”

“Sure. As a couple. You know, if things work out.”

I shifted my weight uncomfortably and had to put a foot on the floor to keep from sliding off the stool. “I’m not trying to be ungrateful, Kyle. I’m not. I really appreciate your help. But