She rang the doorbell and waited.
The front door cracked open at first, but when Ida, Malone’s wife, saw Amanda, she grinned and flung it wide.
“Hey, Amanda, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.” Ida touched Amanda’s arm affectionately. She was a warm woman but not a hugger. “Come in. Scott’s in the backyard manning the barbecue, because heaven help us if I decided to cook on the thing.”
Amanda laughed. Malone was particular—or peculiar, hard to say—when it came to his food. “How are you?”
Ida sighed deeply and smirked. “Doing good. But that man might drive me crazy yet.” Amanda went to slip off her shoes, but Iva waved a hand. “Don’t you worry about that. Just follow me to the back.”
Amanda had been in the house many times and knew the layout by heart. In almost a straight line from the front was a sliding patio door that led to a backyard oasis. It consisted of a groomed green space and a flagstone patio, complete with a shelter for their barbecue, elevating it into more of an altar. They also had a beautiful wicker furniture set that would have cost a small fortune.
Ida slid the door open and gestured for Amanda to go out first.
“Ah, there she is.” Malone smiled at her as if she’d been an expected guest and not a last-minute intrusion at the dinner hour. He took a beer bottle off the ledge of the “altar” and took a long swig from it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterward.
The smell coming off the barbecue was intoxicating, and she inhaled appreciatively as her stomach grumbled and her mouth salivated. She should have grabbed something to eat before heading over. Sizzling on the grill were two potatoes in foil and a large T-bone steak about an inch thick with a large tenderloin piece. The entire thing must have weighed three pounds. Malone was in his late fifties and must not have received the memo that large amounts of red meat weren’t healthy for a man his age. Then again, if he did know, he probably wouldn’t care.
She opened her mouth and was about to speak, when he said, “I know you need to talk, and we’ll do just that. But first we eat.”
“Oh, I couldn’t…”
On her way toward her husband with an empty platter, Ida put a hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “Of course you can.” She handed the plate to Malone just as a timer beeped.
“Off she comes.” Malone’s enthusiasm wasn’t masked, and he removed the steak and potatoes, loading them onto the platter. “You never re-flip a steak.” He eyed Amanda with all seriousness, and she quirked an eyebrow.
“Here we go,” Ida mumbled and retrieved the food from her husband and took it into the house.
Amanda smiled. Malone had his share of stories, but his one weakness was talking his meals to death. It had been a while since she’d eaten a meal he’d cooked, but it was all coming back to her now. He loved to re
gale his guests with a breakdown of how the food came to be on their plate—the method of prep, including spices, how long he’d cooked it, at what temperature, and on it went. There were usually also little insights about why he did things one way as opposed to another.
Malone carried on like his wife hadn’t expressed annoyance. “If you flip a steak more than once, it’ll become tough.”
Amanda played along. “Is that so?” She squirreled away the tip and wondered if Logan knew about that trick. Ah, Logan. She felt horrible about forgetting their dinner plans the other night, but she’d make it up to him. She smiled at the thought of how she’d do that.
“Uh-huh, young lady. It’s a fact.” He pointed the business end of a pair of tongs at her to emphasize his point.
They joined Ida in the house. She’d already set the table for three and portioned out the potatoes. Half of one each for her and Amanda, and a whole one for Malone. The steak was left untouched, though. Probably because there was an unwritten but adhered-to rule, that Malone divvied up the meat. And sure enough, he grabbed a large knife from the block on the counter and got to work.
Amanda said she wasn’t very hungry, but she still got a sizable chunk of beef she wasn’t quite sure she could finish. Ida had a small piece about the size of her palm, and Malone loaded the rest onto his plate, along with the bone. He was the first to dig in. As he sliced through the meat, pink juices oozed out and transported Amanda right back to Fox’s crime scene.
“Dang it all, I forgot my beer outside.” Malone dropped his utensils and started to slide his chair back.
Amanda shot to her feet and volunteered. A little separation was exactly what she needed to clear her mind.
She returned with his beer a moment later and was offered one by Ida. She declined, of course. Ida must have forgotten that she didn’t drink.
Dinner went quickly with lighthearted conversation that only briefly turned to her love life. It was a subject she quickly steered away from.
As she was helping Ida clear the dishes, Malone said, “Okay, let’s talk.” He gestured toward the backyard. “I’ll be out there when you’re ready.”
“Ah.” Amanda looked at Ida, who was already watching her. She was torn. She wanted to help with the dishes, but her original purpose for coming here wasn’t to get caught up in a personal evening. She checked her phone, but there was no update from Trent about how things had gone with Bethany Greene. She tucked her phone back in her pocket.
“Go on.” Ida smiled at her as she turned on the hot water and pumped soap into the sink. “I’ve got this. I’ve been doing it for so long, I could do it with my eyes shut.”
“Thank you.” Amanda saw herself outside and sat on one of the wicker chairs that was adorned with bright-red cushions. She inhaled deeply, noticing for the first time that it was a pleasant evening to be outside. Birds were singing, heralding that spring was here, and the air smelled fresh and lush.
“So what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?” Malone snapped the cap off a fresh beer and took a draw.