by Patti Larsen
So we’d just have to make sure Jill shone, wouldn’t we?
She stepped in, head down, but Robert was already muscling his way toward me, shoving her aside while I glared up at him like he hadn’t just assaulted a fellow deputy.
“Don’t even think about giving me orders,” he blustered.
“You already have your orders, Deputy Carlisle,” I said. “Go search Petunia’s for whatever it is you think you can find and leave the real police work to those who have a chance in hell of solving this case.”
He spluttered, he hummed and hawed, but it was Rose who grabbed his arm with a weasel-like slyness that told me she wanted to get her hands on my bed and breakfast and screw her boyfriend’s chance at the sheriff’s office.
“That’s right,” she said, tugging his arm, lips pursed as she spoke up at him like he was a dolt. Okay, so he was a dolt, fair enough. “We have a job to do, Robertkins. Remember?’
Could they be subtler? Doubted it. Dripping don’t mind us, sleight of hand, what’s behind that curtain while we slip out the back door.
Whatever.
It was a quiet walk to the station, Jill keeping her head down, me stomping my way through the skiff of snow that had fallen since this morning. I couldn’t think about my wedding, about the fact my fiancé was now unemployed and that my dad, my grinning and chortling and childish father was standing on the steps emanating some kind of vindictive glee that made me want to smack him.
“Not funny, deputy,” I snarled on my way by.
“If you say so, Sheriff,” he winked back, still chuckling.
Seriously. Dads.
Five minutes later, with his assistance and me swearing a few times at feeling awkward, Dad was officially a deputy in the Reading Sheriff’s department. I winced when I thought about what Mom was going to say to me for recruiting my retired from the force father, though she’d stopped being angry with him over the investigation firm—finally—so maybe she’d cut me some slack knowing I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Things might have been slowly sliding downhill in a very large handbasket filled with my fading wedding plans, my commitment to my bed and breakfast and the fact I’d accepted my fiancé’s job out from under him when a tiny sliver of light showed through the rapidly descending darkness.
And, wouldn’t you know, that illumination came from Daisy, in the form of a text.
I could almost hear her giggling glee as it pinged and caught my grumpy attention.
Got the goods out, all clear. Her second message arrived shortly thereafter while I gaped and inhaled and realized she was talking about the treasure evidence. Did I do good?
DAY. I sent her a huge smiley face and a string of hearts. Fast thinking, brilliant woman.
Learned from the best, she sent, far too cheery for a text message to translate but I could see her face beaming over her phone screen so there was no mistaking it. See you at your mom’s.
Okie doke.
That was one crisis averted. Let Robert and Rose waste their time tearing Petunia’s apart looking for… well, who knew what. They certainly wouldn’t be stumbling over anything to do with the hoard. But wait. What if they were after something else? Totally unrelated that I had, as yet, to suss out and really should have been far more concerned they might uncover?
Like what? Instead of making myself crazy over something I couldn’t control and trusting that the people I loved and the life I lived wasn’t about to go totally to the bottom of the toilet the Pattersons—yeah, blaming them, down to the ground—was making of my town, I chose to focus on the now and present and deal with the consequences of Vivian’s shenanigans later.
The one person I was really worried about in this whole mess sauntered casually into the office, his handsome face smiling, a huge hug for me telling me that despite my lingering worries to the contrary Crew was perfectly fine with this state of affairs.
“We all know this was the only way Vivian was going to let things go.” We tucked ourselves into his (my) office, Liz joining the party, and consulted on our next moves. “Fee, we also know I’ve been thinking about leaving anyway. So she did me a favor.”
“Like when she called you to warn you?” I did smack him then, a soft punch to the upper arm that he pretended hurt way more than it did. “You could have told me.”
He nodded, jaw jumping. “I know,” he said. “But Vivian said if it was going to work you had to be genuinely surprised.” Crew touched my hair, my cheek, kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I was terrible at hiding my feelings so they had been right to keep it from me if Geoffrey in the dark was the goal. Still. Grumble.
“You two,” Dad said, pointing between Crew and Liz while Jill hovered near the door, looking pale and uncomfortable, “are going to have to take over Fleming Investigations for the time being.” They what? Dad looked down at me then, shrugged. “Conflict of interest, kid. You know it’s going to come up. Might as well cut that viper’s head off right now.”
Wow. “You’re rather blasé about giving up your business, John.” Crew was grinning, eyes narrowed and gleaming wickedness. Even Liz chuckled, the pair of them worse that Dad if truth be told, all co-conspirators and about twelve years old to boot.
“Just keep the doors open,” Dad sighed then like he realized he’d made a mistake. Before beaming at them and clapping his hands together before rubbing them with the faint sandpaper sound of his big mitts celebrating this victory of his. “Now I have you right where I both want you, we’ll talk.”
That knocked the childlike joy from the former partners, but not their enthusiasm.
“We’ll have to sign paperwork of some kind,” Dad said, “but for now, if you two would witness?” He nodded to me, to Jill. “I, John Fleming, owner of Fleming Investigations…” He paused, grimaced. “Damn, this won’t work.” Those eyes met mine again. “We need another witness.”
Right. Because I was co-owner of that outfit whether I’d agreed to it or not.
“Allow me.” And there was Toby Miller, right on schedule, ducking into the office like she’d never left, the old receptionist back in her sheriff’s department sweater vest, beaming a smile at me as if Dad hadn’t poached her for his own office and left Crew bereft. She made a little apologetic moue at my fiancé. “Sorry, dear,” she said, “but I go where John goes.”
And just like that, with Toby and Jill witnessing, Dad and I divested our interests in Fleming Investigations over to Crew and Liz for a dollar.
My father groaned when Crew handed over the bill. “I’m coming back,” he said. “And you can bet the paperwork will say Lucy is on the board of directors just to be safe.”
Snicker. Didn’t he know that was as dangerous a decision as letting Crew and Liz take over?
“We’ll see.” Liz laughed and winked at her former FBI compatriot. “What do you say, partner? Just like old times?”
Crew’s smile lit up his whole face and for the first time in a while I really saw him. No stress, no worries, free and released from the pressures of this job I now occupied, the last four years of tolerating the likes of Reading’s residents and politics gone from him. The only times I’d actually seen this side of Crew were when he talked about the hoard, about the treasure hunt. Now that he was free, would I be seeing more of him like this?
And would we still love each other the same way?
All my worries he wasn’t the man I fell in love with, not really, dashed to pieces and turned to dust when he crossed to me in a rush and hugged me so hard I groaned a little.
“I love you,” he whispered in my ear. “Now and forever. This is the best thing that ever happened to us.” He laughed then, releasing me just enough he could look down into my eyes. “Because murder has always been our strong suit.”
He could say that again. Except… “We don’t know it’s murder,” I said, echoed at the exact moment by Dad, Jill and Liz.
Great. Same page and all that. Though, hard to stay gru
mpy when I had the most amazing posse in the history of posses at my back.
“Time to find out if there’s anything to investigate,” I said, turning to Jill. “Shall we drop in on the good doctor, Deputy Wagner?”
She hesitated, glanced at Dad. “Are you sure you don’t want to take Sheriff—” she paused, blushed, stammered, “sorry, Fee, Deputy Fleming with you?”
And then I saw it, her worry, but more so, her hurt. That Vivian made me sheriff, overlooked her, was making her beg for scraps and the chance at the job that should have been hers, hands down, no question.
Dad had inhaled to respond but I was already moving, crossing to my friend and taking her hand. “You’re my first choice,” I said. “You think I want to work with that?”
She tried a smile and nodded. “I won’t let you down.”
“Jill,” I said, ever so softly, just between the two of us, “you never could.”
Why wasn’t she perking up? Oh well, I’d deal with it.
Instead of pursuing it with the others lingering, I turned and focused on the task at hand. “If you two don’t mind,” I said to Crew and Liz, “we have an investigation to undertake. I was thinking Fleming Investigations might like to log some research hours.”
“We’ll see what our booking schedule allows,” Liz said instantly with a little frown, “and get back to you.” Then, she laughed, a bell-like peal of pure delight. “I’ve always wanted to say that,” she said.
Not funny. “Just get digging into the suspects, please, while Jill and I talk to the doc and Dad…” I waved one hand at him, “does what Dad does because he’s not going to listen to me if I ask him to do something specific.”
My father actually had the nerve to look hurt, one hand on his heart, though the glitter of amusement in his eyes told me he was anything but.
“I’m kinda busy, actually,” he said, “but I’ll see what I can do.”
Smartass former sheriff fathers and their attempts at humor.
***
Chapter Eleven
As soon as we got in the car—Jill driving her deputy’s cruiser while I took the passenger’s seat—I started in on a fumbling attempt to reassure my friend that I had no intention whatsoever of actually keeping the sheriff’s job.
I think I was making things worse, not better, as she stayed intensely quiet and withdrawn. I finally mumbled my way to a pathetic halt and fell silent, not sure what to do or say as she pulled into the parking lot at Curtis County General and turned off the ignition.
She sat there a long moment, staring out the windshield into the freshly fallen darkness, the lights from the emergency room door to the left of the morgue entry casting brilliance on her blonde ponytail, making her eyes translucent.
I jumped a bit when she spoke, holding my place and my breath until she did without realizing I’d stopped breathing when she’d parked the car.
“Fee,” she said. Stopped. Started again. “It’s okay.” I opened my mouth to protest but she was already turning toward me, one hand on my arm, doing her level best to be a trooper about things and succeeding, darn her, when now I just wanted her to be angry at me or something. Anything but that hangdog expression of defeat and acceptance.
“It’s not,” I said.
Her ponytail bounced when she shook her head, reaching behind her for her hat and cramming it on her head. “We both know you’re ten times the investigator I am, and you don’t have any training.” She paused then, not sounding bitter at all. I would have been bitter if that was where my brain took me after the day we’d both had. “You’re the right choice. Vivian made the right decision.”
“You listen to me,” I shot back, angry now, for her if she wouldn’t be for herself. “The only reason Vivian made me interim sheriff was to piss off the Pattersons and to ensure Robert didn’t muscle his way into the role. She knew appointing me would be the only thing the council would accept.” I knew it was true. “Despite the fact you were the only choice.”
Jill sighed. “No, keeping Crew was the only choice. What were they thinking?” She met my eyes, hers wide and sad.
“Seriously? They’ve been trying to get rid of him for ages.” I knew that was true, too, saw it so clearly now. “Throwing all that Not-A-Fleming garbage at him, making him doubt himself, feel like an outsider. It’s a wonder he didn’t pitch the badge ages ago.”
She nodded then. “A solid testament to what a good man he is,” she said. “You’re lucky. And so is he.”
That last wasn’t an add on, not in the least, to make me feel better. Which made me feel worse.
“We’re going to win Vivian’s little challenge, Deputy and soon to be Sheriff Wagner,” I said, “and while I can’t for the life of me understand why you’d ever want the job, I’m going to make sure you are the one who delivers the truth of what happened to Thea Isaac.” Because, the dead woman was dead, justice would still be served and Jill was my priority, so there.
Jill just stared at me, expressionless
“Stand up to Robert more visibly,” I said. “And take authority from me, publically.” She flinched but I shook my head in return. “Just do it, Jill. You deserve to be sheriff.”
My friend exited the car, waiting for me to follow before locking it behind her. She was silent on our short walk to the morgue door, but at least that low level hum of defeat was gone. Maybe she wasn’t feeling optimistic but at least she wasn’t beating herself up and thinking in terms of being a failure anymore.
At least, I hoped so. Because I was going to need her to keep her head on straight if I was going to deliver on my promise to get her the job I didn’t want for any longer than absolutely necessary.
As we strode through the door, Jill holding it for me, I had a surprised realization. I didn’t want the job. Yes, yes, okay, I’d been saying that. But hadn’t a tiny little secret part of me loved being a deputy, always wanted to be in law enforcement, loved hanging with Liz on the last case together, always wondered what it would have been like if I’d pursued this career after all?
Here I had the chance to really find out. I wasn’t just playing at being a deputy to protect me from being arrested for B&E. I was the town freaking sheriff, legit, yo. Despite Crew’s loss of a job (which he didn’t care about and was, I truly believed now, delighted to have lost) and Dad’s good humor about the whole thing and Jill’s suffering and having to deal with Rosebert… I accepted the truth.
I loved poking my nose in where it wasn’t wanted, being a busybody, uncovering truths other people tried to hide. But I didn’t want to do it from behind a badge.
Okay then.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts about what I actually did want to do—because it was clear running a bed and breakfast wasn’t going to satisfy me forever, was it?—I failed to realize until I was partway into the main morgue through the stainless steel swinging doors that Dr. Aberstock wasn’t alone.
Barry Clement was with him. No shocker there, since he was the doc’s assistant. But Barry himself had company, backup, if you like. The last person I expected to see standing in the bright lights of the large space that always gave me the creepy crawlies thanks to the lingering odors of heavy-duty cleaners that couldn’t quite mask the scent of death should have been the first, really, if I’d been thinking clearly. And with any kind of foresight.
Geoffrey Jenkins didn’t even acknowledge me or Jill as he shot that shark grin of his at the doc, finishing what he’d clearly already started with a final sentence that told me everything I needed to know and put him on my murder list all over again.
“Now, if you’ll kindly go home as requested, Dr. Aberstock,” the slimy piece of work said, “Mr. Clement will be taking over your work until such time your permanent position with our town can be reviewed.”
Only then did Geoffrey turn and meet my eyes. And winked.
He did not just effectively fire Dr. Aberstock. Did not.
And yet, as the doc scowled at Geoffrey, at Barry, he didn’t argue. In
stead, the sweet-faced old man who always had my back, who’d offered me lollipops when I was a little kid and he came personally to treat me because he still made house calls, the Santa Claus replica with the sunny disposition who never judged, who treated everyone fairly and always, always had the answers I needed stripped off his white coat, tossed it at Geoffrey and walked out of the morgue.
Past me. Head high, face red, but jaw set.
Damn it.
Maybe I should have stayed and dealt with Geoffrey, but I couldn’t. Instead, I left Jill to deal with the mess behind me and instead spun and went after the doc. He didn’t have much of a head start and he was barely taller than me but he’d built up a head of steam and made it almost to the door at the end of the hall before I caught his arm and turned him around to face me.
“Leave it, Fee,” he growled. “Just leave it.”
“I can’t.” I felt like crying all of a sudden while he opened the door, stepped inside. I’d never been in his small office before, stood there ineffectually wringing my hands, watching him don his winter coat, his boots, looking down at his neat-as-a-pin desk as if he was wondering what he should do now because I know I was wondering.
What was I supposed to do without him?
“This is just a means to an end,” Dr. Aberstock said then, jerking me out of my downward spiral into begging him to stand up for himself. When his head lifted, he met my eyes, his snapping the sort of anger I’d never seen in him before. “A chance to not only eliminate Crew,” he raised one hand, shaking his head, “yes, I heard about Crew. Ridiculous. So, cut out the excellent sheriff, then remove your ability to investigate the murder properly by installing a coroner without care or proper training.” The doc’s white beard wiggled as he ground his jaw. “Our town is going to hell, Fee, and I’m starting to wonder why I care.”
I couldn’t argue with him there. “This is about the Pattersons, isn’t it?” It had to be. “What are they hiding?”
