by Rebecca Deel
Her stomach knotted. She wanted to find Pam. Family loyalty aside, she doubted the newspaper was the best method to help her friend. She refused to compromise Ethan’s investigation and risk Pam’s life.
“I’m sorry, Meg. I can’t do it.” Serena stopped her cart in front of the ice cream section. Mrs. Johnson had a sweet tooth and a special fondness for Death by Chocolate ice cream. A woman with impeccable taste buds. “If you need an interview, get it from Detective Kelter or Ethan.” She opened the freezer section and grabbed a half-gallon container.
Serena expected a whine, cry, even a scream. She didn’t expect silence. “Trying a new tactic, Meg? I don’t remember getting the silent treatment before.”
More silence. Finally, Meg said, “Ethan? Since when are you on a first-name basis with the new police chief?” Heavy suspicion laced her voice.
Serena leaned against the deep freeze door. She must be more tired than she realized to make that kind of mistake around her snoopy sister. Maybe she could bluff her way through until she felt ready to discuss their relationship. At the moment, she didn’t know how to define that relationship. “We’re friends, Meg.”
“Really?” Serena heard the mischief in her sister’s voice. “I definitely need to have a chat with him.” Laughing, Meg hung up.
Serena slipped the phone into her purse. She hoped Meg didn’t dig too much. Not that it mattered. Meg couldn’t embarrass her more than she’d already embarrassed herself. Ethan would meet her dumbest mistake in person on Saturday if he hadn’t already run into Mitch around town. What could be worse than that?
She navigated her grocery cart to the check-out line. Ruth awaited her.
#
Charlene Hart dashed to the dryer, clad in a scarlet robe and matching slippers. “I hope you find her soon, Serena.” She reached into the metal interior, scooped up an armful of white clothes and dumped them in the waiting basket. “I like living in a small town, but this commute to Knoxville absorbs any time for errands.”
“Maybe you should think about opening a law office here.” Ruth captured a tube sock which missed the basket and tossed it in.
Serena secured two pieces of coffee cake in a zip-loc bag and laid it on top of Charlene’s briefcase. “That’s a great idea, Charlene. You and your husband could open a law office. Everybody needs a lawyer at some point in their lives and Otter Creek doesn’t have any law firms.”
Basket clutched in her arms, the young lawyer hurried past Serena. “I’ll think about it. I’d love a ten-minute drive to work.” The last part of her statement sounded muffled. When she reappeared, she’d changed into battle regalia, her black power suit and heels.
Serena handed her a travel-mug of coffee and the coffee cake. “Did Pam give any hints that she might have a problem?”
Charlene transferred her cake bag to her briefcase. “Not really. She did ask me if I would represent her if she ever needed legal counsel. I asked if she had a problem, but she mumbled something about unintended consequences and left. Got to run. Your check’s on the counter. Thanks for breakfast, Serena.”
The door slammed. Ruth and Serena stared at each other. What had Pam stumbled into that might require legal counsel? What unintended consequences?
#
“Serena, come in. Who did you bring with you?” Gladys Johnson moved her walker to allow room for Serena and Ruth in the doorway.
“This is my friend, Ruth Rollins.” Serena heaved three bags of groceries onto the kitchen counter. “She has cabin fever, so I thought we could entertain her for a few hours.”
Mrs. Johnson chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure we can, honey.” She shuffled to a kitchen chair.
“Ruth, this is Gladys Johnson, the woman who allowed me to borrow mouth-watering recipes for Home Runs.”
“You’re a chef?” Ruth eased into a chair across from Mrs. Johnson and dropped her crutches.
“I taught home economics at Otter Creek High School until I retired. Serena was my student.” She examined the cast on Ruth’s leg. “What happened to you?”
Ruth grimaced. “A gopher hole.”
Serena laughed. “Mrs. Johnson, she’s not telling you the whole story.”
“Oh, really?”
While Ruth regaled the other woman with her parachuting fiasco, Serena heated water in the teakettle, and cleaned the sink and counter. She could still hear Mrs. Johnson’s voice reminding her home economics class to begin each cooking session with a clean work area.
As the tea steeped, Serena opened her menu notebook and assembled ingredients in the order she used them. She chopped vegetables, half listening to the conversation until Ruth maneuvered the conversation to talk about Pam.
Serena set two cups of steaming tea in front of the women.
Mrs. Johnson breathed deep. “This smells marvelous. What kind of tea is it today?”
She slid a small container of honey within reach of the two women. “Nothing exotic this time. Just chamomile and mint tea.”
Mrs. Johnson looked up at Serena with a knowing smile. “Are you cooking a little red meat for me today, dear?”
Serena’s face flushed. “Yes, ma’am.” She smiled.
“What am I missing?” Ruth looked from Serena to Mrs. Johnson. “By the looks on your faces, it must be good.”
Mrs. Johnson laughed, giving Serena’s hand an affectionate pat. “Serena has trouble with the sight of blood. After much experimenting, we found a mix of chamomile and mint tea kept her stomach settled enough to prepare meals.”
“That tea is the only reason I made it through culinary school.” Too bad it wasn’t strong enough to keep her in the kitchen instead of the bathroom in the various hotels and restaurants in which she’d worked. She couldn’t drink enough tea to combat that much red meat.
“Now, what were we talking about?” Mrs. Johnson paused. “Oh yes, Pam. What a shame.” She stirred honey into her tea. “You never think something like that will happen to someone you know.”
“Pam seems like a nice young woman.” Ruth sipped her tea, gaze focused on Mrs. Johnson.
Serena turned back to her cooking, a smile spreading on her face. Ruth’s interrogation technique rivaled her octogenarian female sleuth, Olivia Tutweiler. She wondered again how much of her friend’s personality seeped into her writing.
“Oh, she’s a real blessing. Pam takes me to Dr. Anderson, goes to the library for me, and picks up my medicines.” Mrs. Johnson chuckled. “I never worry about running out of food with Serena around. She feeds me too much.”
“How did Pam seem the last time she came?” Ruth asked. “Was she worried about anything?”
Mrs. Johnson thought a minute. “Now that you mention it, she seemed preoccupied. When I asked her if anything was wrong, she brushed it off. Said she needed a vacation.” Mrs. Johnson shrugged. “I don’t know why she needs a break now, though. She’s only worked a few weeks.”
Serena turned from her post at the stove. “Did she say where she’d like to go?”
“No, but she asked me if there were good vacation spots nearby.” Mrs. Johnson grinned and eased back in her chair. “I told her she’d have to ask someone else. My husband and I were homebodies. He didn’t like to travel, so I vacationed in the library during summer break.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rod watched Blackhawk’s SUV pull away from the curb. He ambled to the coffee pot and refilled his mug. With a surreptitious scan of the squad room, he slipped into the empty office next to Blackhawk’s and closed the door.
He unfolded the scrap of paper from his pocket and dialed. “Lt. Wade Parrish, please.” Rod drummed his fingers on the empty desk. He felt like a subversive for checking up on his boss, but he had to know what kind of man he worked with.
“Parrish,” a deep voice said, breaking the silence.
Rod’s pulse raced. “Lt. Parrish, this is Rod Kelter. I’m a detective with the Otter Creek Police Department.”
“What can I do for you, Detective?”
�
��I need information about Ethan Blackhawk.”
“What kind of information?” Parrish asked, a note of caution in his voice.
Was he wasting his time? Cops didn’t like turning on fellow officers, and this man sounded like one of the old guard who protected his buddy’s back, regardless of the circumstances. He weighed his choices and opted for the truth.
“Sir, Blackhawk is our new police chief. We’re in the middle of a murder investigation and some questions surfaced.” He loosened his tie.
Parrish remained silent a moment. “What questions?”
Rod surveyed the bustling squad room, then settled back in the chair, notepad ready. No one had noticed him occupying the office. “Lt. Parrish, the truth is I need to know if I can trust him.”
Parrish chuckled.
The lieutenant’s response caught him off guard.
“Sounds like Blackhawk’s following his usual program.”
“Sir?”
“Relax, Detective. Ethan Blackhawk is one of the finest policemen I’ve worked with. His methods can be unusual, but he gets results that hold up in court.”
Kelter’s hand clenched around his pen. “Any possibility he’s dirty?”
“None.”
Parrish’s prompt response eased the tension from his muscles. At least he had one less distraction now. “How long did you work with Blackhawk, sir?”
“About ten years. He was one of our best investigators. His specialty is missing persons cases.”
Rod laid down his pen and sipped his coffee. “Why do you say that?”
“Heard about the Newman kidnapping?”
Rod sat up, coffee mug hitting the desk with a thud. “Isn’t that the case where a kid was snatched from the parents’ campsite out in Nevada somewhere?” The national media flooded the airwaves with the story last year. He thought the police recovered the kid unharmed.
“That’s the one. Didn’t take long to figure out the kidnappers had a hideout in the Stillwater Mountains, but nobody could find it. A cop working the case served with Blackhawk in the Army. They flew Blackhawk in and turned him loose. Within 24 hours, he found their hideout.” Parrish chuckled. “It’s amazing what he can read from broken twigs and bruised grass blades.”
Curiosity burned inside Rod. “How did it turn out?”
“Sent in a team to back him up. They flushed out the perps. Blackhawk went after the kid. The boy came out without a scratch. Blackhawk took a bullet in the shoulder for his trouble.”
#
Serena unlocked her door, relieved to be home. She and Ruth spent several hours with Mrs. Johnson. Although she didn’t learn any more about Pam, she did learn eye-opening things about Ruth. Her life trumped Olivia’s adventures in the Tutweiler mysteries. Serena ruffled Jewel’s fur. Mrs. Johnson hadn’t laughed that much in months.
She dropped her purse on the counter and stored her cleaning supplies in the laundry room. The message light flashed on her answering machine. Serena opened the back door for Jewel to go outside and played back the message. Four hang-ups. She frowned. Kids fooling around or more canceling customers? She hoped it wasn’t the latter. Her bank account couldn’t stand too many more cancellations.
She grabbed Jewel’s favorite ball, and followed her dog outside. Fifteen minutes to play, then thirty minutes to get ready for her evening with Ethan.
#
“You guys look good. Smile.”
Ethan stopped at the entrance to the Homestead Inn. The flash from Meg’s camera left him seeing spots in front of his eyes.
Serena blinked. “Hey, how about a warning before you take the next one?”
“I get more natural-looking pictures this way.” Meg turned to Ethan. “So, Chief, any statement to make before dinner?”
He sensed a lead-in behind her question, one guaranteed to embarrass him. “On what subject?”
“How long you’ll last as police chief of Otter Creek.”
“Meg.” Serena’s voice held a note of warning.
His hand tightened on her shoulder. Nice to know she felt enough for him to defend him against her own family. He didn’t want to cause a breach in their relationship, though. “A long time, I hope. I’m honored to work for the people of Otter Creek.”
“The town council thinks you work for them.”
“They represent the people of Otter Creek. If they don’t reflect the will of the townspeople, the next election will result in new council representatives.”
A smile curved her lips. “You’re not afraid you’ll lose your job?”
He shrugged. “No job is secure.”
“How about the break-ins? Any new leads?”
“We’re pursuing a few things.”
“Anything you can share?”
“Not right now.”
“Well, at least that comment is one word longer.” She grinned. “You make it hard to fill column inches, Chief.”
Serena frowned at her sister. “Finished with the interrogation?”
“For now.” Meg let her camera dangle on its strap. “A late guest of honor would cause fast flapping council tongues.” She stepped aside to let them pass. “Watch your back, sis. Grace wields a sharp carving knife.”
Ethan’s feet sank into the maroon carpet of the hotel lobby as he steered Serena toward the Delta meeting room. “Who’s Grace?”
“Grace Martin is the caterer for this dinner.”
“Should I sit with my back to the wall?” Serena’s laughter sent a shiver of pleasure down his back.
“Meg’s melodramatic sometimes. Besides, you won’t have to worry about Grace’s knife. She favors good-looking men.”
“What about you?”
She grinned. “I like them, too.”
Heat burned in his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.” Before he could rephrase the question, they crossed the Delta room’s threshold. The tables were arranged in a square, already set with utensils, folded napkins and glasses filled with tea. Two long tables at the far end of the room held steaming dishes and plates, the air scented with yeast, roast and something with cinnamon.
A woman dressed in a white uniform and chef’s hat carved the roast. Must be Grace Martin.
“Chief Blackhawk, welcome.” Henry Parks pumped his hand like a politician. He beamed at Serena. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, my dear. You look beautiful. Give my regards to your father. Please, sit at the head table with our guest of honor.” He seated them, then hurried off to a group of men and women gathered near the coffee pot and herded them toward the tables.
Humor sparkled in Serena’s eyes. “I saw him Sunday morning at church, but he only notices me if I donate money to his re-election campaign or convince my father to contribute. His wife, Emily, is a friend of mine, though.”
“What’s the reason Parks mentioned your father?”
“Dad’s the president of the only bank in town. All the council members try to stay on his good side during an election year.”
The next hour passed in a blur of questions and mouse-sized bites of food. Each mouthful precipitated a question requiring a lengthy answer. By the time the meal ended, half his food remained on the plate. During the mayor’s address to the council and welcome speech, Ethan managed to eat the apple pie and ice cream before he had to stand behind the podium.
“Thank you for your words of welcome, Mayor Parks. Ladies and gentlemen of the council, thank you for your confidence in me. You were right when you described your town during my interview. This is a close-knit community of quality people. I’m honored to be part of you.
“Otter Creek is growing fast. An increased population leads to increased crime. My goal is to make this community a safe place for you and your families. I look forward to helping our community fulfill that dream.”
Ethan sat down to a round of applause. Sometime during his speech, one of the wait staff cleared his place at the table. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone home to a microwavable dinner.
He shook
hands with each council member and spouse or friend. When the room cleared except for the workers, the tense knot in his stomach eased. His captain warned him politics came along with a police chief’s job. Might take years to learn this part of his job. He doubted he would ever like it.
“Chief, did you enjoy your meal?”
Serena stiffened beside him. He looked down into Grace Martin’s face. “Yes, ma’am. The food was excellent.”
“You didn’t eat much.”
He chuckled. “The council members didn’t give me much chance.”
“Come with me.” Grace laid a well-manicured hand on his arm, a glint in her eyes. “I’m sure we can find something to your liking in the kitchen.” She smiled. “Or somewhere else.”
Ethan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Giving him her house key would have been just as subtle. He shifted away of her grasp. “No, thanks, ma’am. I’ll be fine.”
“Serena, I’m glad I caught you.” Emily Parks dashed across the room. “I’m starting a ladies Bible study at the church on Thursday mornings. Could you work it into your schedule to cater breakfast every week? You know, muffins, hot tea, those amazing breakfast cookies you make. I’ll pay for it, of course. Add it to my Home Runs bill.”
“I’ll make the cookies and muffins at the church and leave them in the refrigerator for you this week. After that, I’ll make it part of your regular cooking rotation. Freeze the cookies or muffins until you need them.”
Emily’s grin broadened. “Great. Can you start this week or should I pick up something at the bakery?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, Serena.” Emily hugged her and hurried through the doorway.
“I thought you didn’t cater.”
Ethan’s eyebrow shot up at Grace’s venomous tone. Professional jealousy?
“She’s one of my customers and it isn’t a big deal, not like this dinner. Besides, Emily’s a friend.” Serena checked her watch. “We won’t keep you any more, Grace. I know you have a lot of work to do before you’re finished tonight. Congratulations on the fantastic meal.”
In the hotel parking lot, Ethan shortened his stride to match Serena’s. “What’s going on between you and the caterer?”
