by Mary Maxwell
“Do you have any of the Mississippi Mud?”
“No, but I can make one real quick,” I said. “We sold out of that today at lunch.”
“That’s okay, Katie. Just whatever you have will be perfect.”
“I’ll go ask Dalton and Bennington if they want some, too.”
Trent laughed. “Oh, I think you already know that answer,” he said. “They’re both regulars around here if you haven’t already seen them come through. I think Bennington’s wife has him stop at least once a week for blueberry scones.”
“I’ll have to remember to send some over to the station,” I said with a smile. “As a little thank you for helping me out today.”
“That’d be a nice gesture,” he said, his tone shifting from light and jovial to somber in a flash. “But why don’t we get back on track?”
I answered with a quick nod.
“Was the door locked when you left this morning?”
The nod was replaced with a subtle wince. “No. I haven’t locked it since I got back to town.”
Trent scoffed. “Seriously, Kate?”
“Yes, seriously,” I said. “This is Crescent Creek. It’s not Chicago or New York.”
“That’s true,” Trent agreed. “But things have changed since you moved away, Kate.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, smiling again. “I’m no longer a size two. I can barely do a cartwheel. And I found what I’m pretty sure is my first gray hair the other day.”
Trent groaned softly. “It’s not a joking matter, Kate. You’re the victim of a crime. And from the note on your fridge, I’d say there’s a fairly good chance that you’re also in danger.”
I felt a shiver of anxiety twine around my shoulders. “That thought had crossed my mind,” I said. “But it could also be a bunch of kids or something. Maybe an elaborate prank to welcome me back to Crescent Creek?”
Trent smirked, but didn’t address my theory. Instead, he asked if I had any real idea who might’ve broken in.
I nodded. “The cable guy.”
He considered my answer for a moment, narrowing his gaze while his lips formed a playful smile. “Aha!” he said, lifting his fingers to make air quotes. “The old ‘cable guy disguised as burglar’ ruse!”
The remark was classic Trent: outlandish, ill-timed and intended to evoke a smile. But I refrained from giving him the satisfaction. I crossed my arms and glared at him.
“Whoa,” he said, smiling. “I know that look.”
“What look?”
His grin softened. “Oh, c’mon Katie. The look you always used to give me when I made you mad; scrunched forehead, narrowed eyes, your teeth clenched so tightly that the vein in your neck starts to tremble.”
I put one hand on my neck. Trent was right; the vein was quivering like a lost puppy in the rain.
“Well, stop making me mad then,” I sputtered. “I need to know who broke in here. I’d also like to know what you’re going to do about it.”
He shifted from one foot to the other and waited until I was done. Then he repeated his question, asking if I had any clue about who trashed my apartment.
“Yes, I do,” I said as calmly as possible. “It was the repair guy from the cable company.”
“Aha!” Trent exclaimed again, holding one raised index finger into the air. “Just as I suspected.”
CHAPTER 7
Before I could ask Trent to explain his cryptic remark, the front door opened and Dina Crawford swept into my living room like Miss America taking a victory lap down the runway. Her hair was perfect, the chic navy pantsuit fit like a glove and her legs were long enough to make a giraffe jealous.
“Hi, Katie,” she said in a melodic voice coated with crushed peppermint and pearl sugar beads. “It’s so good to see you again.” Her eyes twinkled as she nodded slightly to suggest a subtle shift in tone. “I just wish the circumstances were different.”
My entire body went rigid as she surrounded me with her slender arms and gave me a hug that lasted way too long. When she finally released the embrace and stepped back, I mumbled something about liking her perfume.
“Oh, you do?” she gushed. “It’s something special that Trent gave me on our first wedding anniversary. I still wear it to remember the good times.”
I twirled my eyes toward Trent, but he was talking quietly with Officer Bennington.
“Well, it smells nice,” I told her.
“I heard the call about your burglary while I was leaving court,” she said. “I thought I’d stop by and see what I can do to help.”
“You can find the guy that wrecked my peace of mind,” I said, sweeping my arm around the ransacked living room. “Along with making my home look like a hurricane blew through when I was downstairs at work.”
Dina furrowed her brow. I noticed one teeny wrinkle above her left eye. Botox, I thought. I didn’t know it was available in Crescent Creek.
“Oh, yeah,” she chirped. “This was your first day, right?”
I nodded.
“How’d it go?”
“Besides finding this mess when I came upstairs?” I asked.
“Right,” Dina said. “Why don’t you tell me about that?”
“Like exactly when I came up?”
“That’s a good place to begin,” she said. “It’ll help establish a timeline for the burglary.”
I thought back on the afternoon. “I guess it was around four-thirty,” I said. “I didn’t exactly check my watch when I found all of this.” I let my eyes travel around the room again. Instead of the cozy apartment I’d left that morning, I saw overturned chairs, scattered knickknacks and my winter sweaters spilling out of toppled moving boxes. “When Angus told me about the cable guy, I just instantly sensed that something was wrong.”
Dina leaned closer. “The cable guy?”
Trent suddenly appeared between us. “Hey, looks like I’m right in time,” he said, giving me a playful wink. “We can pick up where we left off.”
Dina smiled at him. Then she reached out and brushed a piece of lint from his shirt sleeve.
“Business as usual,” she said. “You didn’t wait until I arrived to start interviewing the victim.”
There was a palpable tension between them; it felt like the residual bitterness of their failed marriage. I waited quietly while Trent avoided her gaze and Dina skewered him with her hazel eyes. Before the awkward silence could become truly unnerving, I decided to take matters into my own hands with a question for Trent.
“What did you mean earlier when you said ‘just as I suspected’?” I asked. “Angus told me that someone claiming to be from the cable company was up here earlier. And since I don’t have trouble with my cable and I didn’t ask for a service call, it’s pretty simple to do the math.”
“Angus told me the same thing,” Trent said. “I ran into him as I pulled into your driveway.”
The vein in my neck shuddered slightly. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I wanted to talk to you first, Katie. Before we start discussing possible suspects, I want to hear your side of the story.”
“Well, now you have,” I said. “What’s the ‘just as I suspected’ deal?”
Trent explained that they’d received another call about thirty minutes before mine. Someone discovered the real cable repairman bound and gagged in the men’s restroom at the MiniMart on Lookout Road.
“Poor guy,” Trent said. “He was wearing nothing but a Durango Danger Softball T-shirt and a pair of pink boxer briefs.”
“Did you say pink?”
Trent nodded. “Yeah, the guy said it had something to do with a prank on his wife, but I didn’t ask for more details.” He smiled. “Didn’t really seem relevant to the investigation, but I can circle back and get more info if you’d like me to.”
“What else did he say?” I asked, skimming right over the remark about the repairman’s underwear.
“Seems pretty straightforward,” answered Trent. “He was on his way to Benne
tt Calhoun’s place to deliver a new remote control. Stopped for gas at the MiniMart. Had to use the facilities. Got clocked on the head when he was taking care of business.”
“By the guy that broke into my apartment?”
“We don’t know that quite...” Trent’s phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. “Quite yet,” he continued, gazing at the screen. “But I’ve got another officer waiting to talk to the guy as soon as they check him out in the ER at County General.”
“Okay, and so—what? I should just hang out and wait?”
“You can go downstairs and take care of whatever you need to,” he said. “I know where to find you if I have more questions.”
We shared a brief glance, a fleeting look that was packed with memory and sorrow and regret. Then I snapped out of it, held out my hand and waited.
“What?” he said.
“I wanted to thank you for coming to help me,” I said, feeling more than a little ridiculous. “As one professional to another, you know? I mean, now that I’m a member of the Crescent Creek business community, I want to have a good working relationship with the local authorities.”
Trent chuckled. “You’ve gotten all serious during your time away,” he said.
“I grew up. So did you.”
“I guess we all did,” he said, finally wrapping his hand around mine. “And, on behalf of the local authorities, I’d like to welcome you to the area.”
“Back,” I said.
“Sure thing,” Trent agreed. “I’d like to welcome you back to the area.”
The warmth of his skin made my cheeks blush. I averted my gaze for a moment, swallowing away the butterflies in my stomach. As I felt his grip loosen, I looked up again. His pale blue eyes were wide and his mouth had shifted into a sideways grin.
“So?” Trent said, tapping the end of his pen against his chin. “How’s it feel?”
“How does what feel?” I gestured around the ransacked apartment. “Getting burglarized during my first week back in Crescent Creek?”
“Being home?” he said.
“I feel like Alice,” I answered quietly.
Trent frowned. “That a friend of yours or something?”
I swallowed again, resisting the urge to criticize his limited literary frame of reference. “A very good friend when I was nine,” I said. “I’m talking about the book, whiz kid. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Heard of it?”
His eyes slowly widened until he was grinning and tapping his pen on the cover of his notepad. “You’re a funny one, Kate Reed.”
I swiveled on my heel and headed for the door. “That makes two of us, Deputy Chief Walsh. If you have more questions for me, I’ll be downstairs, okay?”
“You got it, Katie,” he said. “I actually have one quick one before you go.”
I stopped and glanced back over my shoulder.
“I parked in the back when I got here,” Trent said. “What’s up with the balloons tied to the trash can?”
When I groaned, I imagined Julia could hear me downstairs in the kitchen with the mixer on top speed. “It’s a long story,” I said. “You’ll have to ask Olivia to explain.”
CHAPTER 8
Two hours later, while I sat at the desk in the Sky High office, my sister rushed through the door, closed it quickly behind her and plunked down on the guest chair. Angus had left a moment earlier after letting me know that he’d changed the locks on all of the doors just to be on the safe side. My mind was still reeling from the shock of the burglary and the sense that my personal sanctuary had been violated by a prowling criminal.
“Trent Walsh is the cutest thing since my new camkini,” Olivia gushed, fanning her glowing face with a Sky High menu.
I glanced up from the food cost spreadsheet that I’d been staring at for the last few minutes. “Your new what?”
“Camkini,” Olivia answered. “It’s so cute! I got it for our cruise.”
I handed my sister a new set of keys and she dropped them in her pocket without comment. We’d already talked about installing new locks, and she was clearly more focused on discussing other subjects.
“Lucky you,” I said. “I hadn’t heard that you were taking a trip.”
“It’s something that Cooper won at work,” she explained. “Five days through the Western Caribbean. We leave out of New Orleans, so we’re adding a couple of extra nights to spend in the French Quarter.”
I frowned and leaned back in my chair. “As I said—lucky you. I’ll be right here, slaving away over a hot stove, dealing with surly customers, trying to keep my ship afloat.”
She giggled. “You’re such a drama queen, Katie.”
“Not really,” I said. “You know that I’m joking, right?”
“Oh, heck yeah! I know you’re over the moon to be back in Crescent Creek. Especially since it means you’ve reduced the distance between you and that hunk of burnin’ love by a few hundred miles.”
I reached for the cup of lukewarm coffee on the desk and asked her to elaborate.
“Don’t be coy,” she said. “You know who I’m talking about.”
I sipped the coffee. “Angus Martin?”
Her forehead crumpled into a scowl. “Heck no. That old goat’s sweet, but I wasn’t talking about him.”
“Then who?”
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Trent,” she said, lowering her voice. “He’s such a stud!”
I put the cup back on the desk. Then I closed the folder filled with spreadsheets and stuck it in the top desk drawer. The numbers had been blurring together long before Olivia came in, so it would be a good idea to take a break.
“I think you mean he was a stud,” I said. “Back in high school. Now he’s a divorced guy that works side-by-side with his ex-wife in a small town where everybody knows everybody’s business.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “I know!” she said. “That’s how I found out that he’s still single and ready to mingle.”
“Good for him. I hope he mingles his way into a relationship that works. From what I’ve heard, he and Dina had a pretty rocky marriage.”
“Well, shoot!” my sister quipped. “What do you expect? Living together. Working together. You need to have some time apart to fan the flames of love and passion.”
“Is that how you and Cooper keep it going?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. A little distance, a little mystery and a whole lot of Ben & Jerry Chunky Monkey.”
I smiled at the last entry on her list. “How does ice cream fit into your happily ever after formula?”
“It’s our mediation mechanism.”
My smile blossomed into a throaty laugh. “You’re joking?”
Olivia shook her head. “Nope. Whenever we argue, we head right to the store. We buy a pint, get two spoons from the drawer and sit at the kitchen table. If the issue isn’t resolved by the time we finish the ice cream, we move to Plan B.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” I said. “Does the backup involve more ice cream?”
“No,” she answered. “And I’m too embarrassed to tell you anything more. Just use your imagination.”
I cringed. “Oh, okay. I’ll just pretend you didn’t say that. I’m still haunted by the image of you and Bradley Trippet naked in the shower the weekend mom and dad left us alone at home.”
Olivia snickered. “Oh, but that was completely innocent,” she said. “We were just friends. And Bradley’s gay now, so…”
I held up my hand. “Seriously, Liv! Stop! I love you to pieces, but you have a tendency to overshare.”
She made a face, stopped fanning herself and dropped the Sky High menu on my desk.
“You’re such a prude, Katie. Maybe that’s why you’re still single.”
The slam was both unexpected and cruel. I clenched my teeth and forced a smile. “So—are you going to tell me what a camkini is?”
In a flash, the smile on her face vanished. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said…” She reached ov
er and took my hand. “I’m just an idiot,” she continued. “I’ve got no boundaries. I have no sense of…” A tear suddenly tumbled down her cheek. “Oh, Katie! I’m just…” Her voice cracked and her chin fell against her chest. “It’s Cooper,” she said. “I think he’s having an affair and it’s making me into a total freak. I’m sorry I said that.”
I squeezed her fingers. “Why do you think he’s having an affair?”
She sniffled and grabbed a tissue from the box on the nearby bookshelf. “Because I found a pink thong in his car,” she whispered. “A really, really, really tiny one. Like a size negative three or something!”
Olivia’s lifelong battle with her weight was legendary in our family. She’d tried all of the latest diet trends. She enthusiastically jumped into each new exercise craze. And her closet was filled with shapewear garments for every part of her body. When she arrived in Crescent Creek to help me at Sky High Pies, she seemed cheerful and relaxed. But I was realizing now that it was a façade. She was probably putting on a happy face to help make my transition home from Chicago easier and less stressful.
“Okay,” I said, leaning over to brush a tear from her cheek. “Let’s not rush to judgment. Maybe there’s a logical explanation for why Cooper had a pink thong in his car.”
She sniffled again. “You mean like an alien left it there?” she asked. “Or maybe he was driving down the highway and suddenly someone’s underwear just flew in through an open window?”
I leaned back and giggled. “I said a logical explanation, Liv. And neither of those sounds all that logical.”
“You never know,” she said. “Anything can happen.”
“Exactly! And that includes what I suggested—there could be a logical explanation.”
She shook her head and mumbled.
“What was that?”
“I just know he’s cheating on me,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “But I also know there’s only one way to find out.”
“Ask him?”
She nodded. “You betcha! And I need to get over myself. I’ve been doing really well with everything, you know—my confidence, better self-esteem, fewer trips to the store to buy something new when I feel down or depressed.”
