by Elise Sax
“So, Boone, huh?” Adele pressed.
“No. He doesn’t like me.” And he lived in a dump. And Amos called him an asshole.
And he might be a serial killer.
Oh, yeah. I had forgotten about that little nugget.
“He doesn’t like you? He’s looking at you like a man watches Monday night football.”
I turned around and caught Boone watching me, and a warm wave washed up my body. He caught me catching him, and he looked away, as if he was more interested in studying the wall.
“Amos is a great man, but his heart is still filled with his wife,” Adele continued. “At least it was. Maybe you changed all that.”
“I barely know him. I mean, I don’t know him. I just met him twice, and once was when he was taking my statement after Jimmy died.”
“What are we talking about?” Boone asked, returning. “Are we off the other topic?”
“I was asking Adele about fish pedicures,” I said, winking at her. “Have you had one before?”
She winked back at me. “No, but I’m very excited about getting one. My heels grow callouses like you wouldn’t believe. I once got a tack in my foot and I didn’t know it until I put my shoes on the next morning.”
I interviewed a couple more women before Mabel opened the door and let us in. The room had two rows of folding chairs, each with a plastic bin in front of it.
“Ladies, take your seats,” Mabel commanded. The women took their shoes off and sat down. There was more than one woman who looked into their bin suspiciously. I didn’t blame them.
“I wish I had a camera,” Boone said to me.
“Oh, pictures are a good idea. I don’t have my phone. Would you take pictures with yours for me?”
He took his phone out of his pocket. It was an ancient flip phone. “No camera,” he said. “I’m old school.”
Flip phone aside, the man was two steps away from homeless. As far as I could tell, he didn’t have a job.
“I hope the Gazette gives this the attention it deserves,” Mabel told me. “Fish pedicures are the newest thing in luxury self-care. Why aren’t you writing this down?” I wrote it down. I wanted to ask her about her relationship with Wade and Jimmy Sanchez and what Wade had given her, but Mabel was an imposing person, and she was determined to push her fish.
“Sit here,” she told me, pointing at a chair. “Take your shoes off.”
“Yeah, take your shoes off,” Boone repeated.
“I’m the reporter. I’m not here for a pedicure,” I said.
“Haven’t you heard of gonzo journalism?” Mabel asked. “You have to get your feet wet—so to speak—to experience a story.”
Was that true? Boone smiled. He was enjoying this way too much.
“The thing is…” I started, but Mabel stared me down. She was a good five inches taller than I was, and she had a way of pursing her lips and not blinking for extended periods of time that made it clear she would brook no argument.
I took off my shoes and sat down. “Okay, ladies,” Mabel announced. “Don’t be afraid. Gently place your crusty feet into the bins, and in fifteen minutes, your feet will emerge soft as baby bottoms.”
I looked inside my bin. There were little fish swimming around.
I raised my hand. “Mabel, may I ask you something?” She came over, and I pointed to the fish. “I think something’s wrong with my fish.”
She looked in the bin. “They look fine to me.”
“Oh my gosh, they’re eating my feet!” a woman yelled with glee.
“Good! Good!” Mabel yelled back.
“No, I think there’s something wrong with them,” I told Mabel.
“They’re fine. Put your feet in.”
“But Mabel, they’re glowing,” I said. Boone looked in the bin and covered his mouth with his hand.
“This is Goodnight,” Mabel said. “Half of the town glows.”
“It does?” I asked, noting that down on the pad of paper.
“You’re scaring the customers. Put your feet in the bin, or I’m getting my cattle prod.”
I put my feet in the bin, and the fish went after me. It didn’t tickle, and it didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. It was also gross, knowing that fish were eating my skin. I tried to distract myself by taking notes on the reactions of the customers. Finally, the fifteen minutes were over, and I took my feet out of the bin.
They were baby smooth. Maybe Mabel’s madness had a method to it. Maybe she would revitalize the town with luxury self-care. The customers filed out, most of them pleased with the results, but more than a couple saying they wouldn’t do the procedure again. Boone was obviously impatient to leave, but as the people left the room, I spotted Mabel’s purse.
I need to find out what Wade had handed to her. “Cover me,” I told Boone.
“What?”
I wandered over to Mabel’s purse, as if I was memorizing the room for my article. To his credit, Boone cornered Mabel and asked her about the price of the fish, and if he could buy some for personal use. I thought I was going to make it to her purse without her seeing, but Mabel was a formidable woman, and she seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to her purse.
She came up behind me and threw her purse over her shoulder. “I’m trying to revitalize the town,” she said, looking down her pointy nose at me.
“I know. You’re doing a wonderful job.”
“I can’t give this town the shot in the arm it needs if people keep dropping dead at the Gazette.”
My stomach lurched, and I stopped breathing. I couldn’t believe that she was bringing up Jimmy’s death when she was suspect number three.
“It was a tragedy,” I agreed.
“A tragedy that can’t happen again.”
“Wait a minute. Do you think I had something to do with it?”
“That’s the word on the street, Matilda.”
My face got hot, and I began to grovel. “I swear I had nothing to do with it. He just walked into the courtyard and died. I promise. Please believe me.”
Somehow, the conversation had turned from me wanting to grill her about Jimmy’s death to begging her to believe that I had nothing to do with it.
“I was there. She had nothing to do with it,” Boone said, approaching.
Mabel looked him up and down, as if she was trying to decide if he was a trustworthy witness.
“No more deaths,” she said finally, pointing at my chest.
“I promise I’ll do better,” I heard myself say, earnestly. And then for some reason, I began to worry about more deaths. There was the mysterious girl, and now Jimmy. Was the nightmare over, or was it just beginning? And was Mabel giving me a message about them that I didn’t understand?
Chapter 6
My stomach growled as we left the rec center. “Is that you, again, rumbling and grumbling?” Adele asked, coming up behind me. “How can you let yourself grow hungry like that? I haven’t been hungry since 2009. I’ll give you a ride to the diner. We need to fatten you up. You’re way too skinny for this town.”
I needed to get back to the Gazette and write the two stories, but eating a big meal sounded too good to pass up. “You want to come?” I asked Boone.
“I think it’s time for me to move on. Thanks for all the crazy today,” he said, digging his keys out of his front pocket. “Don’t get into more trouble.”
“Okay…thank you for your help.”
Boone narrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “I couldn’t ignore a damsel in distress,” he said, locking eyes with me. “It’s a law. At least I heard that somewhere.”
Adele and I watched Boone walk away and get into his truck. “He wears jeans good,” Adele said, licking her lips. “I’d jump his bones if I thought he’d be willing.”
“You don’t think he’d be willing?”
“I’m not his type. He likes brainy women.”
“He does?” I asked, watching him drive away. “He doesn’t seem like the
brainy type.”
Adele laughed. “Boone is a ‘still waters run deep’ kind of guy. There’s a lot there to mine, if you have the patience.”
“I’ve given up on men. I’m focusing on me.”
“Aren’t we all, honey? But it’s nice to take a break every once in a while and focus on something with biceps.”
Goodnight Diner was enjoying a lull in business. There were only a handful of between-meals diners. I sat in a booth by the front window. “What can I get you, honey?” Adele asked.
“A rattlesnake has my wallet.”
“No problem. We’ll start a tab for you. I’m sure you’ll be a regular, just like everyone else in town.”
“Thank you. I think I need comfort food,” I said.
“Got it,” she told me. “Morris, make Matilda the Friday night comfort special,” she called to the cook. He saluted her and got to work. Adele got us a couple of drinks, and she down across from me.
“Isn’t this fun?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink. “Taste it. It’s an egg cream. I learned how to make it when I was in New York on a theater trip when I was in high school. I saw Cats. Greatest day of my life.”
I took a sip. “Delicious.”
“Rough day, right?” Adele said, compassionately. “We haven’t given you the best welcome to Goodnight.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, but then a tear popped out of my eye and ran down my cheek. Adele put her hand on mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“You’ve been through the wringer. But at least your heels look fabulous.”
“That’s true.”
“And you’re about to eat a good meal, and…oh, look who’s here.” Adele stood and waved at someone behind me. I turned, and felt an electric shock zing through my body. Sheriff Amos Goodnight had walked in and took off his hat. I turned back around and willed myself to stay cool and not be a blathering idiot.
You’ve given up on men. You don’t like men. You’re in the middle of a divorce. A boy died today.
There were so many reasons to give Amos the cold shoulder. Unfortunately, I wasn’t listening to myself.
“Afternoon, Adele,” Amos said, his voice dripping deep, velvety soft sexy tones.
“Hey there, Amos. You hungry?”
“I could go for roast chicken, if you got it?”
“I got it.”
She walked away to the kitchen, and Amos walked to my booth and hovered over me. “Afternoon, Matilda. Would you mind if I sat with you?”
“I…you…uh…I…you…” Crap. I was in a loop, and I couldn’t get out. Finally, I managed to nod yes, and Amos slid into the seat across from me, setting his hat next to him.
Somehow, he had gotten sexier. His face had a strong afternoon shadow, and his skin was tanned and hardened from the sun. For the first time, he looked familiar to me, as if I had seen him somewhere before I had ever seen him. I sucked greedily at my egg cream so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact, but I knew that he was studying my face, making me worry that I had a long chin hair or something in my nose.
“Are you enjoying Goodnight?” Amos asked, and then it was his time to get flustered. “I mean, besides today.”
“It’s a very nice town,” I lied. Goodnight was located in a beautiful location, but it was one UFO away from being a ghost town and one giraffe away from being an environmental disaster. Still, the people were nice, and I was enjoying my new job more than I had ever enjoyed doing anything else.
“The people are nice,” I added, and heaven help me, I batted my eyelashes.
Adele arrived with our meals. She put my plate down in front of me and then Amos’s plate in front of him. She had made me chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and peas. Amos had roast chicken with French fries and green chili cornbread.
“Amos is our resident gourmet chef, so I’m honored that he’s eating here today,” Adele said.
“I’m not a gourmet chef,” Amos told me, slightly embarrassed. “I cook to relax.”
“Maybe you can cook for Matilda one day soon,” Adele said and elbowed me. “You know what I’m going to do to celebrate this moment? I’m going to give you two my peach cobbler. On the house. You’re going to love it.”
She turned on her heel, leaving Amos and me alone. I cut into my chicken fried steak. It was delicious, definitely comfort food. “How’s your altitude sickness?” Amos asked.
“I’m a little better.”
“Keep hydrated, and in time, it’ll pass.”
We ate for a while in companionable silence until Adele returned with two generous helpings of warm peach cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream. Amos and I pushed aside our meals and dug into dessert. “I like sweet things,” he said.
He likes sweet things. Everything he said sounded pornographic. I was weak, weak, weak, and my determination to be done with men was waning. The peach cobbler was acting like an aphrodisiac, or maybe it was just Amos’s pheromones that wafted over the table, making my resolve melt away.
“How long have you been sheriff?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“Five years. Fifteen in law enforcement.”
“And your name? Goodnight? Does that mean…?”
He nodded and smiled. “Yes. My great-great-great grandfather founded the town. But he had nothing to do with the giraffe thing. So, my karma is fine.”
“What is the giraffe thing? I never got the whole story.”
He opened his mouth to tell me, but his phone rang and he answered it. A minute later, he hung up and gathered his hat. “You seem to be taking to the reporting thing,” he said.
“I like it, although I’ve only done small stories so far.”
“Have you learned about ‘off the record’, yet?”
“Not really.”
“If, let’s say the sheriff told you ‘off the record’ and then proceeded to give you information, you couldn’t report on it. That’s what it means.”
My skin broke out in goosebumps, and I leaned in closer to him. For the first time, I managed to look him right in the eye without blushing. My nosiness had overcome my horniness.
“Information?” I asked him.
“Off the record information.”
“Okay,” I said, quickly. Even if I couldn’t write about it, I couldn’t refuse an offer for juice. “What is it?”
He pushed aside our peach cobbler and leaned forward so that our faces nearly touched. “Jimmy Sanchez was murdered.”
“He was?” I breathed. “Who did it?”
“Don’t know that yet. But I know how. Do you want to know how he was murdered?”
The how in Silas’s who, what, where, how, and why. “Yes! How was he murdered?”
“His cigar was poisoned.”
I thought back to the morning. “He was smoking with Silas, Rocco, and Klee. Did you test the other cigars?”
“Not yet, but obviously they weren’t poisoned. Just poor Jimmy’s. There you go. That’s your scoop for the day. Remember that it’s off the record. We have to keep some information for the Sheriff’s Department.” He stood up and put his hat on his head. “I have to go. There’s a disturbance at the giraffe center. And no, there’s been no sign of your distressed girl yet.”
He tipped his hat to me, handed Adele some dollar bills, and left the diner. As soon as he was gone, Adele plopped in the seat next to me and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “Oh, honey. You got it bad. I thought you were going to swallow your tongue every time you looked at him.”
“No, that was my altitude sickness,” I lied. “Was it that noticeable?” I asked after a moment.
“I don’t think Amos noticed. He was too busy swallowing his own tongue. You know, that’s the first time I’ve seen Amos eat alone with another woman since his wife died.”
“Maybe he was just being polite.”
Adele sighed and swiped some cobbler with her finger and put it in her mouth. “You’re stubborn. I like that.”
She was right. I was stubborn. A
nd right now, I was stubbornly thinking about Jimmy’s murder and the poisoned cigar. It didn’t seem like an intelligent way to kill him. Why would he be murdered with a cigar?
He wouldn’t.
The cigars belonged to Silas, not Jimmy.
“Adele, I need to get to the Gazette in a hurry. Would you drive me?” I asked.
“Of course, honey. Let me get my purse.”
The dogs greeted me at the Gazette. Adele honked twice at me in her Saturn Vue, and I waved goodbye and watched her drive away. I wanted to get into the Gazette office right away, but the dogs were giving me guilt.
“I’m sorry I’ve been away. I’m a big-time reporter, now,” I told them. “You want a bone? You want a bone?”
They wanted a bone. They told me so by jumping around me, even Costello the black lab, who never jumped. I passed through the courtyard on the way to the kitchen and paused at the spot where Jimmy had died just a few hours earlier.
There was no sign that anything out of the ordinary happened. No blood. Nothing disturbed. No proof of the trauma that I felt having Jimmy die at my feet. It wasn’t fair. There should have been some lasting mark, out of respect for Jimmy’s life.
Abbott howled, reminding me that they were my priority. I dug two bones out of a bag in the kitchen and handed them to the dogs. They ran off to eat in private, probably on my bed. The kitchen was how I had left it with the pot from the macaroni soaking in the sink. I turned on the tap and filled a glass with water and took it with me to the Gazette office.
Inside, Klee and Jack the paperboy were hard at work. But there was no sign of Silas. I was working on a theory, and I had to find Silas quickly.
“There you are,” Klee said. “Did you get the stories?”
“Yes,” I said, showing her my feet. “Where’s Silas?”
“Out on a story.”
“Where?”
Klee shrugged. “Top secret. He said he was going to break it wide open.”
“Break what wide open?”
Klee shrugged again. Since Jack was at Jimmy’s desk, I sat down at Silas’s and picked up his phone. I tried his cell, but there was no answer. I didn’t know how secret “off the record” was so I didn’t tell Silas about the cigar on his voicemail, but I told him to call me back as soon as he could and to watch his back because he was in danger.
