She and Matt returned to the SUV.
Back in her vehicle, she blasted the heat. “Well, that was interesting.”
“Talk about conflicting emotions.” Matt spread his hands over the vents, flexing his fingers as if they were stiff. “She was confident in her alibi—until we asked for her friend’s number to corroborate it.”
“Either she didn’t want to drag him into the investigation, or she was lying her head off. Whichever it is, I want to talk to Rhys ASAP.”
“I’ll call him now.”
Bree backed down the narrow driveway. After she’d pulled onto the road, she handed Matt her notepad.
Matt flipped to the right page and dialed the number on speaker. It rang, with several skips in sound, as if Rhys were on another line and ignoring the call-waiting beeps.
“I’ll bet she’s warning him right now,” Matt said.
“No doubt. It’s what most people would do.” Bree pressed on the gas pedal. “Give him ten minutes and try again.”
They were halfway back to town when Matt got through to Rhys and explained that they’d like to speak with him.
“Sure.” Rhys sounded stressed. “I’ve just finished with a client. Can you meet me at the Scarlet Café?” He gave them an address in Scarlet Falls.
“We can be there in ten minutes.” Matt ended the call. He rubbed his hand, the one with the bullet scar. The cold always seemed to affect his old injury. “This should be interesting.”
Bree had the same feeling.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bree headed toward Scarlet Falls’s tiny retail section and found the Scarlet Café just off the main drag. The shops were surprisingly busy for late afternoon. Bree circled the block before parking in front of a bridal salon across the street.
Matt read from her vehicle laptop screen. “He lives in Grey’s Hollow, near the train station. No outstanding warrants. He doesn’t even have any parking tickets.”
They got out of the car and walked toward the café. Inside, Bree scanned the dozen bistro tables. The café was empty except for two women huddled in the far corner. Rhys wasn’t here yet.
Bree inhaled the scent of fresh baked goods.
“Hungry?” Matt asked.
Bree eyed a ham-and-cheese croissant sandwich. “Just coffee. Thanks.” Her lack of exercise in the midst of a big case and Dana’s pre-holiday baking spree were a dangerous combination. “I can feel my arteries hardening just smelling them.”
She chose a table on the opposite side of the room from the other patrons. Matt went to the counter and returned with two coffees. The bell on the door rang, and a man of about thirty walked in. He wore dark jeans and a blue down jacket. The wispy ends of his blond hair poked out from under a gray beanie.
He scanned the room and spotted them. Bree’s uniform identified her. Rhys headed for their table, held out a hand, and cleared his throat. “I’m Rhys Blake.”
Bree introduced herself and Matt, then gestured toward an empty chair. “Please sit.”
“Let me grab a tea.” Rhys went to the counter and returned with a cardboard cup. He sat, unzipped his jacket, and removed the lid to his cup.
“Thank you for meeting us,” Bree said in a low voice.
Frowning, Rhys dunked his tea bag. “I’ve never talked to the police before—let alone about a murder investigation.”
Bree nodded in understanding. “We appreciate your cooperation. What do you do for a living?” She started with a few general questions to let him get comfortable.
“I’m an IT consultant.”
“Are you self-employed?” Matt drank his coffee.
Rhys shook his head. “No. My employer provides IT services for special projects or for companies that don’t have or want their own tech staff. We service a lot of small businesses.”
“Do you like your job?” Bree asked.
“I do.” He added a packet of honey to his tea and dissolved it with a wooden stirrer. “For the most part, I set my own schedule. I’m not stuck in one office. My jobs are varied, and I can work from home sometimes. It’s a good balance. I’m never bored.”
“Sounds like a good job.” Bree picked up her coffee and took a sip, but it tasted burned.
“But you didn’t ask to meet me to discuss the merits of my job.” His eyes went grim.
“No.” Bree set down her cup. “We’re trying to verify your friend Farah’s whereabouts on Tuesday evening.”
Rhys shifted his butt in his chair and refused to make eye contact, two classic signs of discomfort. “She’s not that close of a friend.”
“No?” Matt pushed his cup a few inches away.
Rhys shrugged. “She’s more of an acquaintance.”
“How did you meet?” Bree asked.
“Through a dating app.” Rhys removed his tea bag and set it inside the overturned lid. “When we got together in person, we had some good conversation, but there wasn’t enough attraction between us.”
“That happens,” Matt said.
“Yeah,” Rhys agreed, his gaze sliding to the wall for a few seconds. “But Farah decided, since we had a nice talk, she wanted to be friends. She keeps texting and calling me, wanting to meet for drinks or to hang out.”
“You don’t text her?” Bree asked. “Or want to get together?”
“I respond when she texts or calls, and we’ve gotten together a few times.” He looked away again, studying the street outside the storefront window. “I don’t know. I didn’t join dating apps to make friends. I don’t have anything against having platonic friendships with women, but I’m in a place in my life where I’m looking for more.” He sighed. “I probably sound like a jerk.”
“No,” Matt assured him. “I get it. You’re ready for a relationship, and you don’t want to waste your time when there’s no chance of one.”
“Exactly.” Rhys gave Matt an appreciative look. “Also, if I’m being totally honest, she’s not interested in me romantically, but I’m a little attracted to her, so . . .” He trailed off. “We hung out at her place last week. It was weird.”
“I can see how that would be uncomfortable for you,” Matt empathized.
Rhys rubbed his thumb on the cardboard sleeve of his cup.
“How long have you been almost friends?” Matt asked.
“A few months,” Rhys said.
Now that they’d established a rapport, Bree gently steered the conversation back to Farah. “Did you see Farah Tuesday night?”
A flash of anger lit Rhys’s blue eyes. “No.”
Bree and Matt exchanged a look. Matt’s eyes took on the feral gleam that accompanied catching someone in a deception. Though chafing for details, Bree forced herself to wait. Even though they weren’t besties, Rhys seemed reluctant to squeal on Farah. Best to let him skewer her at his own pace.
“She called me right after you left her place. She told me what she wanted—no, expected—me to say to you.” He sighed and sipped his tea. “I shouldn’t feel guilty about not lying for her. I’m more than a little mad that she would ask.”