Something Wicked by Lisa Jackson Page B

house, up the stairs, and out to the deck that overlooked the ocean. They discussed the merits of some of the new products on the market. Then Astrid brought the conversation back to babies, and by the time Hale left, he had a mountainous headache. No breakfast this morning, and he needed food.
    He left them and drove into Seaside, heading down Broadway and crossing the bridge to stop at the Bridgeport Bistro to pick up a Dungeness crab and Havarti sandwich on an onion bun and a Coke to go. He took them back to his office and ate at his desk. Ella had clucked at him when he’d returned, his dark hair slick with rain, and for half a second he’d seriously thought about acting like he was shivering and hacking up a lung just to see what she would do. Instead, he’d shut his office door and settled at his desk, and that was where Declan found him when he knocked lightly on the panels, then stuck his head inside.
    â€œDid you pick me up a sandwich, too?” he asked, seeing the remnants of the waxed paper that had been wrapped around the sandwich and pinned with a toothpick.
    â€œYou need to call me and let me know.”
    â€œCell phones,” Declan said with a snort.
    â€œThey work,” Hale pointed out.
    â€œI’m not hungry, anyway. Just had breakfast.”
    Hale slid a glance to the clock. Twelve forty-five. “I met with the Carmichaels earlier.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe people who bought the house on the Promenade.” It was worrisome the way his grandfather seemed sometimes to lose track. He didn’t want to borrow trouble, but there was definitely some short-term memory loss going on. Was it age or something else?
    â€œOh, yes, yes.” Declan looked slightly embarrassed.
    Hale brought his grandfather up to date on what had transpired with the plans for the Carmichaels’ house and then moved on to some of the other projects. “We’re still red tagged on the Lake Chinook project,” he noted at the end, “but I talked to Russo, and he thinks he and Vledich can get it going again without too much more delay.”
    â€œYou think he’s right?” Declan was skeptical of the abilities of Clark Russo, and, for that matter, anyone else who worked for them.
    â€œI don’t want to have to go to Lake Chinook if I don’t have to,” Hale admitted.
    â€œBad time of year to cross the mountains. Storms are coming,” Declan said.
    Hale nodded, but he’d been thinking more of the time it would take, two hours plus each way in good weather. “Let’s see what Clark can pull off.”
    Declan harrumphed and let it go. “How’s Kristina?” he asked, which was his roundabout way of really asking, “How’s Savannah?” which, distilled down, actually meant, “How’s the baby?”
    â€œSavannah’s coming by today,” Hale said.
    â€œHere? To the office?”
    â€œShe wants to reinterview us about Bancroft Bluff.”
    â€œ Ack. When in God’s name is she going to quit that job with the sheriff’s department?”
    â€œAs soon as she goes into labor.”
    â€œNot before? I don’t like thinking about her chasing after criminal scum in her condition. It’s not right.”
    â€œWell, today she’s chasing after us.” Hale smiled.
    â€œWhat are you going to tell her?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œHow many times do we have to rake up DeWitt’s incompetence? Our lawyers are handling the whole goddamn mess. We don’t need to be talking to the police.”
    â€œThey have a double murder to solve,” Hale reminded, seeking to deflect Declan from another diatribe about their onetime geological engineer.
    â€œWell, it’s not our fault. Shoulda never gotten involved in that whole mess with Marcus. It’s a shame. A goddamn shame about what happened to him and Chandra. I’m not sayin’ different. But it’s not our