CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I expected my diner shift to be stressful, given that I'd found the body of a former resident the night before. The elders did speak to me about it, expressing their horror and grief in whispers, along with sympathy that I'd had to go through that. The others didn't mention it. I supposed that wasn't so shocking. Chief Burton had said Ciara's body would be transferred to the city for the autopsy. That meant the news wouldn't hit the Chicago papers until tomorrow. Apparently, the elders weren't breaking the news until the city did.
Gabriel presumed the CPD would want more than the statement I gave Burton, but he was their contact, and he was in court all day, so I heard nothing.
When three o'clock came, I was in the back with Susie for our shift change. The idea is to update the evening server for a smooth handoff, but there's usually nothing to say, so Susie tells me about her day. One of her kids had won the school spelling bee--they still have spelling bees?--and I was listening to her story of the victory when the diner doorbell jingled. There wasn't any need to cut her short for that--it's a "seat yourself" kind of place.
When the bell dinged, the diner had been buzzing with the tea-hour crowd. Now it went silent. Heavy footsteps crossed the floor.
"Can we help you?" I heard Ida ask.
"Is Liv around?"
I recognized the voice but stood there for a second, trying to figure out why Ricky was here.
Because I'd invited him.
Shit. I'd totally forgotten. Normally we texted a few times a day, but he'd had a full schedule. Susie was still talking, and I didn't want to interrupt. The elders would make him feel welcome.
"How do you know Olivia?" It was Walter . . . and his tone was not welcoming.
"Don't you read the papers?" Patrick cut in. "There was a nice photo of them in the Post yesterday. Rick Gallagher, isn't it?"
"Yes . . ." Ricky said warily as I mentally willed Susie to hurry u
p with her story.
"He's one of Gabriel's clients," Patrick said. "A Satan's Saints biker. See the patch on his jacket? That says he's a certified motorcycle gang member. Excuse the old folks, Rick. We don't get many bikers in Cainsville."
Patrick's tone was breezy, but he had to know he was being offensive.
"Is Olivia here?" Ricky asked again.
"In the back," Patrick said. "Have a seat. So where'd you park your bike?"
Susie was close enough to being done that I was able to blurt a quick "That's so great. Tell her I said congrats," before racing out.
Ricky stood with his hands in his jacket pockets, responding to Patrick's needling with clipped answers. If he was nicer, he'd look like a fool. If he got pissy, he'd seem to be overreacting. So he stayed neutral, but I could tell by the set of his jaw it was a struggle.
"Hey," I called as I walked in. "When did you get here?"
Ricky relaxed. "Just arrived," he said as he strolled over. "Ready to go?"
"I am."
As I turned toward the door, I caught Ida's disapproving frown. I stifled the urge to stiffen. Really? This was where they passed judgment?
I ignored her and the looks from the others, and let Ricky hold the door for me as we left.
"Not having coffee there, I take it?" he said.
"I am so sorry," I said. "If I had any idea they'd do that--"
"It's fine. I'm used to it. They aren't as much concerned about me as they're concerned for you, and I can't argue with that. Good to live in a place where people give a shit. I just hope I didn't cause you any trouble."
"Never," I said emphatically.
He smiled. "Good. So where to?"