“That was nice of you. Although . . . interesting timing.”

“How so?” Her face flushed bright red, contradicting her innocent tone.

“It would’ve made a lot more sense to wait until after the case is solved to give your help a break. I wouldn’t think you’d want to take on the extra work right now. Of course, never know what you’ll find in other people’s rooms.”

“Boy, you detective types sure are suspicious,” she responded with what she hoped was a casual shrug. If this investigation is going to drag on, maybe I should invest in some acting lessons, she mused. Maggie had never been very good at disguising her “tells,” as old poker buddies, flush with winnings they’d taken off her, would attest to. She steeled herself for a scolding from Bo—“Don’t meddle, it’s not safe, you’re interfering with police business.” But instead, Bo asked, “Where does this big bowl go?”

“Oh. Bottom shelf.”

Bo had chosen to let the subject slide and she was relieved but still on guard. Years of run-ins with Bo’s slippery cousin Rufus had taught her that it was best to watch one’s back when dealing with a Durand.

“So,” said Bo as he put away the bowl. “I got your note.”

“What note? I didn’t—” Maggie was puzzled, and then it hit her. Gran’ must have found and mailed the apology note that Maggie meant to throw out. She couldn’t blame her grandmother; it was her own fault for not tearing it up.

“Thanks for sharing all that,” Bo continued.

“Glad you liked it.” Maggie kept her response neutral but inwardly panicked as she tried to remember exactly how much she’d bared her soul in that note to this virtual stranger.

“It actually made me feel better about a lot of stuff.”

Hearing Bo’s positive reaction, she relaxed. “My life is such a mess that yours looks good in comparison now?”

Bo laughed. “No. More like—we’re going through a lot of the same things. Feeling unsettled. Not sure if we’re making the right or wrong choices with our lives.”

“And you’re a dad, so that makes things even more complicated.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Bo’s face lit up, and for a split second, Maggie felt dizzy. She shook it off and focused on putting away leftovers. “It’s weird how you can have a life that feels like an appearance of a life. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes. That’s what my marriage was—an appearance of a marriage.”

“How long were you married?”

“Nine years. Got married right out of college. Yes, I went to college, don’t look so surprised. You can’t be an idiot and be a detective.”

“But I guess you can be an idiot and be a police chief, at least in Pelican.” Maggie winced. “Gah, I’ve got such a big mouth. Sorry, I know Ru is family.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to agree with him. Or even like him.”

“I have to be honest, it’s hard to believe you two are related. You’re the total opposite of each other. He’s such a dumbass good ol’ boy. And you’re so not.”

“That’s my mom’s doing. She was one of those old-fashioned types who wanted her kids to have a better life than she did, so she made sure we had manners, and spoke well, and got a good education.”

“You said ‘was.’”

“Died of a brain tumor when I was sixteen.”

Maggie, who had spent her entire life terrified that Ninette’s cancer would return and claim her, felt for Bo. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Noticing that Bo’s mood had darkened, she changed the subject. “You seem to have a good relationship with your ex. What broke you guys up?”

“Whitney and I just realized we’re different people. Different needs, different interests, different dreams . . . things you don’t give much thought to when you’re twenty-two and just hot for each other. Scientists say that the brain doesn’t fully form until we’re twenty-five. I believe that and as far as I’m concerned, there’d be a whole lot less divorces if people weren’t allowed to get married until they were over twenty-five. Whitney’s a good person and the mother of my son, but we both heaved a pretty big sigh of relief when we agreed to divorce. And it’s not the easiest thing being married to a detective. I spend a lot of time in my head.”

“So do artists.”

“See? Something else we have in common.”

Bo flashed his sexy grin, and once again Maggie felt dizzy. She downed the last drop of wine from a bottle and then tossed it into the recycle container. “I didn’t know we had anything in common.”

“We both think Ru’s an idiot.”

She had to laugh. “You have no idea how much I enjoy hearing you say that.”

“More than an idiot. He’s a right bastard. Whitney remarried a guy who works out on a rig, Zach Evans, so they moved down here to be closer for his work. I wanted to be near Xander, so Ru got me a job with PPD, and I owe him for that. Except that . . . There’s a school in Baton Rouge for kids like Xander. It’s an amazing place, but it’s real expensive. I’d have the money if the Durand family sold Grove Hall, but thanks to the Napoleonic Code, we can’t do that unless we all agree to the sale.”

“And Rufus won’t.”

“What, Rufus give this town the satisfaction of seeing Grove Hall beautifully restored and cared for? Not gonna happen. As long as it’s a wreck, it’s his flipping the bird to Pelican.”

“Oh, that stinks on every level,” Maggie said. Bo nodded grimly. She closed the fridge door and looked straight at Bo. “Am I wrong in thinking that Ru’s personal flipping the bird to us Crozats is stonewalling Bev Clabber’s murder investigation?”

“I can’t reveal anything. All I can say is, trust your instincts.”

She appreciated Bo’s subtle honesty. It encouraged her to share what she’d learned about the Cajun Cuties. “I found out something you should know,” she said, and filled him in on the executive board shuffle that put Suzy at the financial helm of the nonprofit.

“That’s a very interesting angle,” Bo said when she was done. “I’ll get in touch with the IRS and see if they’ve sniffed out any improprieties with the organization’s returns or 501C3 status.” Bo grinned. “Nice work. Maybe we should put you on the force as a reserve.”

Maggie shook her head vigorously and waved her arms no. “Nuh-uh, this is all about survival for me and my family. Although,” she giggled, “it would be hilarious to see Ru’s reaction if he saw me behind a station desk.”

“What the heck are you thinking, bringing a Crozat in here, Coz?” Bo said in a spot-on imitation of his cousin. “The curse, man, the curse!”

Maggie and Bo were still entertaining themselves with this unlikely scenario when Tug and Ninette returned with Xander, who was clutching a bouquet of lettuce varieties that he handed to his father. “Cool,” Bo said as he admired the collection of greens. “Did you pick this yourself?” Xander nodded yes. “Well, I can’t wait to eat them. Now we better get you home to bed. It’s a school night.”

Maggie bent down and looked Xander in the eye. The young boy held her glance. “I’ll see you after school for that art lesson,” she told him, and Xander responded with one of his solemn nods. Bo thanked the Crozats for their hospitality and then took his son’s hand and led him out of the house to their car.

After they left, Maggie poured herself a glass of wine and took it with her onto the veranda. She sat in one of her family’s heirloom rocking chairs, handed down through generations of Crozats, and contemplated the evening. She knew Bo was right about trusting her instincts. But those instincts weren’t helping her answer one very important question: could she trust Bo? She feared her nascent attraction to him might be coloring her judgment.

She closed her eyes, trying to release the stress nipping at her mind and tensing her body. And as she relaxed, Maggie realized something.

Xander hadn’t said a single word the entire night.

Chapter Fifteen

When she woke up at dawn, Maggie ached in muscles she never knew she had. But she soldiered on with Crozat maintenance, picking up the pace as she grew more familiar with the routine. While her cleaning skills grew, her detecting ability seemed to have leveled out. Aside from discovering that Cutie Debbie was hoarding mini shampoo bottles, she didn’t dig up incriminating dirt on any of the guests.