Page 26 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

“It rewards honesty.”

Roman laughs. “Terrible system.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Questionable,” she says.

Her humor helps, but the case is still sitting like an elephant between us.

I look toward the kitchen window. Late-afternoon light stretches across the yard. Shit.

The fountain.

I turn back to Scarlet. “What happens to the offerings at night?”

She blinks at the change in direction. “What?”

“The flowers. How long do they stay on the fountain?”

“They don’t.”

Roman straightens.

“Festival maintenance clears wilted offerings and resets the display,” she says. “Usually in the evening.”

“Usually?”

“Depends how busy the square is. Why?”

“I want a sample before somebody throws those lilies into a trash bag.”

Scarlet looks toward the clock. “Then you need to go now.”

Roman is already reaching for his keys.

I point at Scarlet. “You stay here.”

Her eyebrows rise.

I reconsider the phrasing before she can start a fight. “For tonight.” I tack on, “Please.”

“Marginally better.”

“Tom just searched your house, the town is watching you, and we know nothing about whoever took the Love Stone. I’d rather not advertise that you’re helping us before we understand what we’re dealing with.”

She studies me.

“Fine,” she says at last. “But if you find the lilies, don’t let anyone rinse them or dump them into one evidence bag with the other flowers. Separate them.”

Roman points at her. “Smart.”

“I have my moments.”

I reach for the screen door, then stop. Scarlet is still wearing my jacket. She notices where I’m looking and curls her covered fingers farther into the sleeves.

Satisfaction hits hard enough that I have to bury it beneath a breath. “Keep it.”

Her scent warms again.