Crime Times Two

by Julie Howard

  “He’s a thief,” he spat out. “An idiot. And a liar. A…a…” He panted and appeared to notice Meredith’s distress at his anger. His tone lowered and he finished, “He’s a scourge upon this earth.”

  Her eyes widened in disbelief so much anger could come from such a silly object. “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to sell it to him,” she said. “He was nice.”

  In fact, the burly man tipped her two dollars even though she told him twice a tip wasn’t necessary.

  “Oh well,” her boss said, his face returning to a normal hue. “I’ll just hide it in his wife’s vegetable garden in the spring. That’ll teach him.”

  Meredith suppressed a smile at the vision of two grown men sneaking around each other’s yards, tormenting each other with a garden gnome. “What did he do?”

  “Cheated me out of some land, way back, when I first came out here. I got him back when I bought a truck he wanted. It’s not easy being a newcomer in these parts. Got to persevere and be a little tricky.” He winked at her, his good humor restored. “You’ll learn.”

  Atticus held his arms out, indicating he wanted to be picked up. “Cuss,” Atticus said, the name he’d bestowed on Crusty.

  “Your wish is my command,” Crusty said and swung Atticus high in the air so the boy could brush the ceiling with his fingertips.

  The comment tweaked her memory again for something at Brooke Burns’ house…

  As she and Curtis left, Brooke just sat there, head held high, perched on her chair like a queen surrounded by courtiers waiting for her next command.

  If Caro had been “Cee,” then Brooke would have been “Bee.” Queen Bee.

  It struck her in a flash. The beautiful Brooke who worked long hours in the town of Blissful. Not a queen bee at all, but a pretty princess. Brooke Burns must be Mrs. ‘Beebee’, Jamie’s princi-pess. The idea of the woman near her daughter disturbed her. She knew she was overreacting but couldn’t stop.

  “Do you get over to Blissful much?” she asked as the tall man lifted her son to the ceiling and down, making the toddler squeal in delight. Crusty’s eyes twinkled and she knew he was going to offer one of his randy remarks. “The town of Blissful.”

  He appeared hurt at not getting to have his fun. “Sure, from time to time. I used to own a little café over there until I realized my biggest coffee drinkers were fellers sobering up from the night before. More money in getting them drunk, so I sold up and got this place.”

  “Jamie goes to school over there, you know.”

  “Not many choices in these parts.”

  She hesitated. Whatever she said would get back to Honey, and then travel all around the county. She kept her voice steady. “Do you know the principal?”

  He chuckled, and then stopped abruptly as a memory hit him. “Poor woman. You heard about her husband. Very sudden.”

  There was no murder, so there can’t be a murderer. Let it go.

  Her mouth went dry. Brooke never mentioned she was the principal of Jamie’s school. The woman must have known she had a daughter; Brian’s murder meant everyone knew everything about her. “I heard about what happened,” Meredith said, her voice unsteady. “Tragic.”

  Crusty thrust Atticus toward her. “Got to get to work next door. Kid here needs a change. Pronto.”

  She accepted the boy into her arms, her thoughts wandering elsewhere other than dirty diapers.

  ****

  Curtis’ truck wasn’t at his office. Instead, there was an oversized four-by-four vehicle Meredith noticed at the bar from time to time. Only two people worked in the office: the county sheriff and the city clerk. It wasn’t difficult to figure out who else was there. In Hay City, you never knew how someone would react to meeting a stranger, especially if the stranger was a woman recently suspected of murder. She found some people in this remote region to be difficult and others flat-out antagonistic toward her. Hostile or friendly. There was no knowing which of these categories the city clerk would fall under.

  She sat in her car for a moment, biting at her lip, trying to decide whether she wanted to go inside to ask when the sheriff would return, then glanced over her shoulder at the kids. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  “I don’t like waiting,” Jamie complained. “You’re always leaving us behind.”

  Meredith sighed, her mind focused on the coming conversation. “I’ll be quick. I promise.”

  She jumped out of the car before Jamie could protest. There was no one like a five-year-old for offering judgment and guilt.

  The two-room city office consisted of little more than a modest lobby with a long counter separating the entry from the other room furnished with three desks. She knew the city shared its office with the county sheriff. The third desk once belonged to an assistant city clerk, a position eliminated in budget cuts. The city didn’t bother with a spot for the mayor since he never made an appearance. The third desk was now used as a dumping ground for random files, old mail and dust.

  “Help you?”

  A man unfolded long legs from under the city clerk’s desk. When he stood and walked toward her, she couldn’t help but stare. He towered above her, the tallest man she’d ever seen in person, his lean frame making him appear even taller. “Hi,” she said, mentally calculating his height. Was it rude to ask how tall?

  “Six-eleven,” he offered in a cheery voice. “I always like to get that out of the way. No, I never played basketball and, yes, I have to duck under some doorways.”

  She smiled at him, now noticing the dimples at his cheeks. Thankfully, she categorized him as one of the friendly natives. “I guess you get those questions a lot. I’m Meredith. I live out Road 41.”

  He nodded as though he already knew. She wasn’t surprised; most people she’d met in Hay City already seemed to know everything about her: The newcomer from California, the one suspected of killing her husband. Brian’s murder was the crime of the century in these small parts and she’d played a starring role.

  “Jonathan Pringle,” he said in return. “I’m surprised we haven’t met before. I think my kids go to school with your daughter. Jamie, right?”

  “Your kids?”

  “Rio, my son, he’s eight. Graciella’s thirteen. They see Jamie on the bus once in a while. I have another one in diapers.”

  They smiled at each other, in the way of parents with a common bond. There were the shared experiences of sleepless nights, skinned knees and unlimited joy.

  “You here on city business?” he asked, hope in his voice. “Need a business permit, have a complaint about someone’s cattle grazing on your property, or just in for a chat?”

  She remembered her mission. After practically accusing her of murder, would Brooke cause trouble for her daughter at school? “I’m looking for the sheriff, actually.”

  Jonathan’s face fell. “I figured.” He glanced toward the window. “He just pulled up outside.”

  She started. “Oh. I need to go. It was nice meeting you though.”

  He bobbed his head in acknowledgment. “We should get our kids together sometime.” He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, jotting something down. “And Graciella does some babysitting. Here’s my number. Call anytime.”

  She took the paper and thanked him as she edged to the door, noting the tall man’s dimples one more time before turning away. She wanted to talk to Curtis in private. It wouldn’t do to talk about the principal in front of another parent, especially in a town where gossip flew from eager tongues to greedy ears.

  The door opened and Curtis strode in carrying Atticus with Jamie close behind him. Curtis set the baby down at Meredith’s feet. “I found these two outside.”

  Her face grew warm and she hoped she wasn’t blushing. She felt as though she’d been caught at being one of those terrible people who abandon their children in cars. This wasn’t a good start. “Oh. I just stopped by. To say hi.” She couldn’t discuss Brooke in front of Jamie. Flustered, she jammed her hands in her pockets.

&nbs
p; Curtis looked between her and Jonathan, who leaned on the counter watching them. “I see you’ve met Jonathan.”

  She nodded. “I wanted to talk to you about, um, Twin Lakes.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her.

  “You’re tall,” Jamie said, craning her neck to gape at the towering man behind the counter.

  “I bet your name is Jamie,” he shot back.

  Jamie’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”

  He gave a shrug. “You look like a Jamie. Am I right?”

  She narrowed her eyes in suspicion but nodded.

  He snapped his fingers and smiled broadly at Meredith. “I know what. You should apply for the assistant clerk position here. The job’s back in the budget, ten hours a week. Office with a window. And a great boss. Me.”

  Curtis cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

  The opportunity for a private conversation about Brooke was slipping away. However, she couldn’t ignore the possibility of another job with her finances the way they were. “A job? What would I do?”

  He stood up straight, his lean body stretching toward the ceiling. “Mainly help us keep office hours here,” he admitted. “Not much work to do, but the sheriff is gone a lot and I’m in and out with my kids. The budget allows for an assistant, and if we don’t fill the position, the mayor’s going to take the job away.”

  Meredith glanced at Curtis, registering his set jaw. It annoyed her he knew she needed to earn more money and didn’t bother to mention the job. “I work part time over at the hardware store,” she hedged.

  Jonathan waved one hand in the air dismissively. “Not a problem. We can work a schedule that works. If you apply, I mean, and if the hiring manager,” he pointed to himself, “decides to take you on.”

  The job would solve two of her problems at once, the need to make more money and her lack of a computer. An office job would give her unlimited access to the Internet and the world. Living in Hay City was akin to living on the moon as far as current events went. She’d never been one to follow the news, but an occasional headline would be nice. The only news in these parts was transmitted via gossip and often didn’t resemble reality at all.

  He snapped his fingers again. “Anyone ever say you look just like that famous actress? The one in all those movies? What’s her name? Anyway. You’re a dead ringer. Maybe prettier even.” He chuckled. “Don’t forget, you have my phone number now.”

  “You’re here to talk to me?” Curtis interrupted. He shot a glare at the other man, who rolled his eyes and looked away.

  She noted the tense dynamic between the two and tucked the information away, to ask about later. She glanced at Jamie and Atticus, knowing there was only a few minutes before one or the other got antsy. Tucking a strand of hair behind one ear, she smiled an apology at Jonathan and shifted her attention to Curtis and spoke more urgently. “I need to talk to you.”

  There was silence in the room. Jonathan raised his eyebrows, and then stepped back from the counter. “Hey, Jamie,” he offered brightly. “I’m Rio’s dad. Want to work the copier machine for me?”

  Meredith gave the man a grateful glance as Jamie ran behind the counter. What a relief to have another parent help out. In a moment, the hum and click of the copier filled the room. There was the sound of tearing and she turned to see Atticus ripping the cover off a magazine. She rushed over and snatched the page from his hand.

  “You shouldn’t be using the copier,” Curtis called out above the clacking of the machine. “You’re not official here.”

  “I’m officially unofficial,” the other man retorted. “Or am I unofficially official? Doesn’t matter. We’re pretty casual out here.”

  Atticus in her arms, she frowned at Jonathan, puzzled.

  “I don’t really work here,” he admitted over the clicking of the copier. “My sister’s the city clerk. Stacey’s over at Malady having her hair done. She’ll be back later.”

  Curtis made a sound in his throat, his expression turning dark. He touched Meredith’s arm and shot an annoyed look at the other man. “Come outside a minute. So we can talk.”

  She shifted Atticus to her other hip and followed him out the door. She hadn’t seen him since going to Brooke’s house and worried that broaching the subject of the woman would annoy him.

  He spoke grudgingly as soon as the door closed behind them. “Jonathan…Watch out for him.”

  “He seemed nice. Our kids go to the same school.”

  “Three kids by three different women and he didn’t marry any of them,” Curtis said. “I saw how he looked at you just now. Anyway, he doesn’t belong in my office, offering people jobs.”

  A car roared by the lonely two-lane highway bisecting the town’s frontage, zipping from one nowhere location to another. Meredith knew by now it didn’t matter which direction you traveled, it took a full day to get to a proper city.

  “He should have slowed down to town limits,” he said, shifting on his feet. “They were going at least seventy.”

  She waited, hitching Atticus back to her other hip. Curtis glowered after the disappearing car until the vehicle was a dot in the distance. Jonathan raised her hopes for another part-time job and some extra income, but he didn’t work there at all. She wondered if there even was a job opening, but it wasn’t why she was here.

  “Brooke is principal at Jamie’s school,” she announced, trembling inside as she spoke. If Brooke killed her husband, what else might the woman do?

  He raised his eyebrows and studied her face. “You think it’s going to be a problem?”

  “I didn’t make much of an impression. I’m afraid she’ll take it out on Jamie.” Before he could respond, she continued in a rush. “I’ve also been thinking. Brooke and Carolyn…Caro, I mean,” she corrected herself. “They don’t seem like they’d have much in common, to be friends, I mean.”

  He frowned. “Because one’s pretty and the other is…so different?”

  She cringed inside to hear him describe Brooke as ‘pretty.’ “They just seem worlds apart,” she said, determined to make Curtis talk about them. “Do you know Caro carries a gun around? In a backpack?”

  He gave a brief nod. “Gun permits come through my office. I know everyone who has a concealed weapon in my county. A legal one anyway.”

  A thought occurred to her. “Does Brooke have a permit?”

  He stared at the road ahead and didn’t answer.

  “You can’t tell me?”

  “Concealed permits aren’t open records in Idaho,” he answered after a moment.

  It didn’t make sense to her people could hide the fact they carried around a deadly weapon. What was it with this place? Everything was upside down. “Wouldn’t it make sense for people to know if their neighbor is carrying a gun?” she asked in a frustrated tone.

  “Meredith, this is Idaho. People assume their neighbor is carrying a gun. It’s how people grew up here; guns are part of the culture.”

  She fumed inside. If you asked her, Idaho possessed a little too much culture of the wrong kind. “Please tell me the kid behind the deli counter doesn’t have a concealed permit or I’m leaving the state right now.”

  He gave her a puzzled look. “Jeffrey Cole? The kid at the grocery store? What does he have to do with all of this?”

  She shook her head, for some reason surprised the kid owned a real name. To her, the petulant teen would always be ‘deli boy.’ “Nothing.”

  “Meredith,” he said in a soft voice, “you’re safe now. Your kids are safe. What happened in Twin Lakes stirred some things up in you. But if anything happens at the school, anything at all, you let me know and I’ll step in. I promise.”

  Hitching Atticus higher, she reached for the door. “If anything happens, it’ll be too late.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Honey lined up three cans on a wooden crate before crossing the yard to where Meredith stood. “This is how I learned, years ago. Cans on a crate, right here, first week I was married to M
ilt. Said he wouldn’t stand for a woman who couldn’t shoot a charging bear.”

  The Ruger handgun was heavier than Meredith expected. The weapon was a small lump of cold metal, molded into curves that fit neatly into her hand. The gun wouldn’t stop a charging bear; just a way to scare off varmints and small predators, she told herself.

  The older woman beamed from ear to ear, thrilled at being called into service and being right once more. “Nothing more potent than a gal holding a gun.”

  It was a week after she realized Brooke was Jamie’s principal, Mrs. ‘Beebee.’ The discovery unnerved her, although she learned Brooke requested a month or so of bereavement leave. The sleeplessness she always suffered in stressful times returned. She operated on minimal sleep and convinced herself that as long as she kept her eyes closed, this was almost as good as a full night’s rest. It was unreasonable to believe Jamie was in any danger from a woman whose husband died of natural causes. When it touched upon her children, though, she didn’t care about being reasonable.

  Honey tapped her hand. “Lighten up on your grip, dear. The gun’s not trying to run away from you. Don’t yank at the trigger; squeeze.”

  The crack made her inhale sharply. She lowered her hand slowly, still feeling the slap against her palm when she fired. Honey blew out a sigh, releasing a poof of fog into the frozen air. “Okay, let’s try again. This time, let’s work on our aim a little more.”

  Her friend chattered and tittered through the lesson, but Meredith was dead serious about learning to shoot. A light misty rain started and stopped and Honey ran back and forth to the front porch to check on Atticus, bundled up in blankets inside a play teepee.

  The older woman zipped up her coat as far as it would go, covering the bottom of her chin. “Seen our sheriff lately?”

  She shot twice and missed twice. Jamie had told her excitedly Curtis visited the school the previous week. He informed the children about his job, passed around the silver star he liked to wear on his chest, and answered questions until the bell rang for recess—but he didn’t call or stop by her house. “Nope,” she answered sharply.

  “Raise the barrel up even and aim through these notches here.” Honey touched her hand. “Are you aiming, dear?”