Burned in Broken Hearts Junction: A Cozy Matchmaker Mystery (Cozy Matchmaker Mystery Series) by Meg Muldoon Page A

shortly after that there was no need to.
     

 
    Chapter 29
     
    “I’m afraid you might have the wrong impression of me,” I said, nodding to the whiskey bottle he was holding in his hands.
    “I’m not implying nothin’,” he said. “I just thought you might need something after finding your boss dead this morning.”
    “ Former boss ,” I said.
    “Former boss,” the stranger said, correcting himself. “Still, you probably cared for the man.”
    “ Cared might be too strong of a word,” I said. “But I am sorry he’s dead.”
    “Let me buy you a drink?” he said.
    I thought about it for a few moments, assessing the situation.
    Inviting men I didn’t know into my humble abode was not something I did—for safety reasons, gossip reasons, and general moral reasons. But it was a cold and snowy night, and it had been one hell of a week already. And should the stranger be a psychotic serial killer, he’d have Hank to contend with, and I’d put my money on Hank to win that one any day of the week.
    Plus, the stranger wasn’t exactly a stranger anymore.
    I knew his name now.
    “All right, Fletcher Hart,” I said, holding the door open. “Come in out of the snow. But I’m warning you that I’m fresh out of orange soda, grape soda, and basically about any fruity flavor there is.”
    He smiled.
    “That’s okay,” he said. “I wasn’t that thirsty anyway, Bitters.”
    He walked in, and I stood silently in surprise for a few moments.
    I hadn’t ever told him it, but he knew my name too.  
    He went right over to Hank.
    Hank hit the ground and rolled over on his back for belly pets, like the two of them were old, old friends.
     

 
    Chapter 30
     
    “That’s one hell of a way to die,” he said, looking down and shaking his head. “Death by a mounted ox. My lord.”
    I sighed, betting Dale never gave two thoughts to Old Velma sitting above the bar.
    All these years, death had been looking down on him, just waiting for the right moment to strike.
    The thought sent shivers down my spine.  
    “I never knew Old Velma had it in her…” I said, trailing off.
    I took another sip of whiskey. It went down smooth and filled me with a pleasant warmth. The stranger had brought over some really high-end, expensive stuff. The kind that we didn’t even stock at The Cupid these days because locals never ordered it, and Dale wasn’t about to stock something that—
    I shuddered, the thought of his dead, lifeless body flashing into my mind like a strobe light.
    I bit my lip and rocked slowly back in forth in the old, rustic rocking chair that Lawrence had given me when he’d moved into the nursing home after his stroke. The stranger was sitting on the other side of the small room, in the chair closest to the fire. He had his feet stretched out in front of him, his cowboy hat sitting on the arm rest next to him. He wasn’t drinking.
    We sat for a few moments in silence, but it wasn’t that awkward silence that so often accompanies conversation with a stranger. It was an easy silence, one that held no expectations. It just kind of floated like a cloud. 
    “I like your place here,” he said, glancing around the walls. “It’s real pleasant.”
    “Thanks.”
    “You’ve got a lot of friends,” he said, his eyes taking in all the happy, smiling couples in the photo frames.
    “Not really,” I said.
    I cleared my throat.
    “So what were you doing at The Cupid this morning?” I said, meeting his eyes. “Seems early to be at a bar. Especially for someone who only drinks fruity soda.”
    “I was meeting someone there,” he said.
    “Oh?” I asked.
    “Yeah.A business-related meeting.”
    “What kind of business are you in?” I asked.
    “I’m not in anything right now,” he said. “But I’m looking to be.”
    My heart sank a little. He was dodging the question, and when people did that, it usually meant that whatever they did wasn’t above board.
    “Something illegal?” I asked.
    He