Weeding Out Trouble by Heather Webber Page B

had its drapes pulled. However, smoke came from the stack-stone chimney, and the walkway was freshly shoveled. "Looks like he's home."
    Brickhouse parked. "Do we have a plan?"
    Perry looked at me.
    "Well, ah, no," I said. "We're just going to play it by ear."
    Brickhouse's blue eyes chilled. I hated when they did that. "What makes you think he will let us in?"
    Perry rummaged in the trunk. "Well, listen to Miss Optimism."
    The icy blue stare turned on him. "We're perfect strangers. Why would he have any reason to speak with us?"
    I hated when she made sense.
    Producing a tray with a flourish, Perry said, "Because I've got cannoli. Who can turn down cannoli?"
    Not me. My mouth watered.
    Brickhouse clucked. "I like you, Perry. You come prepared. Unlike other people I know." She glanced my way.
    "You could have stayed home," I tossed over my shoulder as I marched up the walkway, my wet jeans chafing my thighs.
    I knocked loudly on a wooden door inset with beautiful stained glass. Through it I saw a figure moving closer.
    The door inched open.
    I wasn't sure what I had been expecting a boyfriend of Daisy's to look like. Okay, I pictured someone like Kit. Big and bulky. Or maybe even the hippie type. Long hair, Birkenstocks, free-thinking mentality . . .
    The man who stood in the doorway wore crisp Ralph Lauren pressed pants, a cashmere sweater, and a look that said, "Go away." He appeared to be of Mediterranean descent, with short silver gray hair, an olive skin tone, and dark eyes. He wasn't short, wasn't tall, wasn't fat, wasn't thin. Average, all around.
    "Hi," I said brightly, as if I were there selling cookies and not asking about murder. "I know you don't know us, but I'm Nina Quinn, this is Perry, and this is Ursula." I smiled in a friendly we're-not-serial-killers kind of way.
    Piercing black eyes focused on me. "Jesus."
    He'd said it in a tone that would earn him penance from Father Keesler at St. Valentine's.
    "I know who you are," Kent said to me.
    Perry held up his offering. "I brought cannoli."
    Kent Ingless fisted a hand, released it.
    I fidgeted. "We just want to ask you a few questions."
    "About Kit?" he asked through clenched teeth.
    "I knew you looked to be a man of intelligence," Brick
    house said, brushing past him into the house without an invitation.
    Perry followed.
    Kent looked at me, something dark and dangerous in his eyes. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I thought maybe grabbing Perry and the cannolis and getting the heck out of Dodge might be the wisest decision.
    Brickhouse could fend for herself.
    "We could come back another time," I mumbled.
    "But you're here now," he said so sweetly that it reminded me of the witch luring Hansel and Gretel into the gingerbread house. "Come in out of the cold."
    If he so much as cackled, I was out of there.
    "Um, thanks." Inside, welcoming scents of vanilla and sage filled the air. Though dark, because all the drapes had been drawn, the house had a cozy air about it, completely at odds with the doom and gloom vibe I picked up from Kent.
    Perry had set his plate on the coffee table, an old steamer trunk, and taken a seat next to Brickhouse on a buttercream-colored couch. I opted to sit in a wingback across from them, and Kent sat in a thickly upholstered rocking club chair that creaked with every motion.
    The fireplace offered light. The burning logs crackled and spit, each noise as loud as a freight train in the silence of the room.
    Kent made no motion to set out plates or offer drinks, and it didn't take my impeccable Clue playing skills to recognize that we weren't welcome, cannoli or not.
    I took a deep breath since no one else seemed to be starting the conversation. "First, our sympathies on Daisy's passing."
    Brickhouse clucked.
    I was glad Kent didn't know Brickhouse and probably couldn't decipher her clucks as well as I could. That was definitely a cluck of disagreement.
    I pressed on. "Kit's a good friend of ours. We're worried about