by D. M. Webb
David rolled his eyes and swiped a cucumber slice off the platter in front of his sister. “Mom, that’s Jer-speak for ‘it’s a slow day–might as well do the family thing.’”
“Well, even so, at least he’s here long enough to have supper.” She patted David’s cheek before retreating into the kitchen.
Darlene rose from her chair and gave him a hug. He fought the urge to roll his eyes again. This was the huggiest family he’d ever seen. “Glad you got here. Save our burgers, please. Dad and Marty are determined to turn them into meteorites.”
Sarah laughed. She sat at the wrought iron patio table, peeling and dicing tomatoes for the salad. “I prefer well done, but not burnt. At least, not like Marty’s burnt.”
“I’ll go rescue the beef.” David looked around the yard. Jeremy wasn’t out here, either. Must have gone back to work. He trotted over to his father. “Move over, Dad. You’re killing them.”
His dad waved the spatula at him and pointed to his pink frilly apron. “I got the King of the Grill armor on!”
David playfully shoved his father over and took the tongs off the rack. “I want mine still mooing, please. Darlene needs hers in a coma. And you know Mom likes hers with a little pink. Only Marty and you want burnt rocks of flesh.” He flipped three burgers over and slid another onto a platter, then rolled the hot dogs around to sear evenly.
His dad smacked his bottom with the spatula. “I got the apron. Move it.”
David refused to budge. He added two more burgers to the platter. “And I am the grilling expert.”
“You don’t grill. You lightly toast.” His dad smacked him again, this time across the back. “Move it, motor head.”
David shook his head. “My, my. You still get mean over the grill.”
His dad laughed and gave him a shove. “My grill. My burgers.”
“My stomach.” David grabbed the platter and bowed. “I’ll bring the platter back for your meteorites, Mr. Grill King.”
Darlene looked up with a smile as he set the platter down in front of her. “The burgers are saved. One for you, one for mom, and one for me.”
She slid them into a covered dish. “Thank you, little brother.”
“Did he smack you?” Sarah looked up from the cucumbers she was slicing.
“Yeah. Why?”
She twirled her finger in the air. “Turn around.”
David complied. “What? Wait, did he leave a mark?”
Darlene giggled. “A good and nice black spot on your bottom! But you can barely see it.”
“Dang it, Dad!” He dusted his pants but only succeeded in smearing the charcoal soot. “My best bleeding pants!”
His dad looked up and waved the spatula at him with a smirk on his face.
“Haven’t you learned yet?” Jeremy’s voice spoke from the patio door. Obviously, he had not gone back to work yet. “You know he’ll leave a mark somewhere whenever someone tries to save the beef.”
“Well,” David growled, “at least it wasn’t the shirt.”
Sarah giggled. “You sure about that?”
“Oh, you’ve got to be–” He broke off at his mother’s raised eyebrow. “–kidding me.” He twisted and tried to view his shirt in the reflection of the patio glass.
Jeremy smirked and leaned against the chair Sarah sat in. “Between the shoulder blades.”
“Perfect.”
“Oh, just take it off.” His mom set a bowl of potato salad on the table. “I’ll wash it.”
David mumbled under his breath as Jeremy laughed and went to join their dad and Marty at the grill. He unbuttoned the shirt. “Fine. Did you wash my red t-shirt, Mom? I didn’t see it in the hamper this morning.”
“In the laundry room. On the dryer. I’ll go get it for you in a moment.” She bustled back into the kitchen.
David slid the shirt off and balled it into his hands. Darlene squealed as he turned around to walk inside.
“Oh, my gosh. Sarah, he’s got a tattoo!”
Sarah looked up and giggled. “You better not let your mom see that! Jeremy!”
David scowled. “It’s just a tattoo. What’s the fuss?” He placed his hand over his navel to hide the red and yellow artwork.
He pushed the patio door open, but Darlene’s hands latched onto him, pulling him back onto the patio. “Let us see!”
She and Sarah wrestled with him, trying to make him remove his hand. Sisters and sister-in-laws, the world’s worst irritations.
“Dang it, Darlene! Sarah!” David hunched over and clasped his other hand, still holding his shirt, over his stomach. “Jeremy! Marty! Get a handle on your wives!”
Jeremy and Marty looked up from their conversation at the grill. The kids ventured closer to see the commotion. Darlene and Sarah were relentless. He pushed them away and leapt off the stone patio and onto the ground. They followed and ganged up on him again. Their hands pulled and pinched at him. He fought down the laugh.
“Stop it!” They wouldn’t listen. Jeremy and Marty made it to them and pulled their giggling wives back.
“He’s got a tattoo and won’t let us see!” Darlene pounced on him again.
“Cool! Let us see, Uncle David.” Dennis, his blue eyes gleaming, bounced around the huddle.
“No.” David was losing his battle. Sarah jumped back into the foray. “Jeremy, get your wife off me.” He pulled his shirt out of her grasp and held it over his stomach.
“Oh, I’m sure you can handle her.” Jeremy walked back to the patio and pulled a chair out. He sat down and watched as Marty Sr. stood chortling over the ruckus. “This is great entertainment.”
David choked back his laughter. Darlene had him on the ribs now. Smaller hands grabbed at him. “Oh, not you, too, So-so.”
Sophie giggled and pushed at him. “I want to see it, too. Come on, guys!”
Dennis and Marty Jr. fell upon him. David collapsed onto the soft grass. He strained against them, but it was too much. Sophie’s and Darlene’s fingers dug into his ribs. Sarah pushed at his hands, and the boys held his feet down.
“Stop!” Tears ran down his face as he laughed. “Oh, please, stop. I can’t breathe.”
“Show us!” they chorused.
He shook his head. The poking resumed. It was torture. “Okay, okay.”
He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to breathe, and no one could win against this family.
He let his hands fall away.
Dennis high-fived Marty Jr. “Check it out. That is cool. Mom, I want one!”
“Absolutely not!” Sarah sat down on the ground beside him and smacked his stomach. “A flaming sun? What are you, a rock star? Jeremy, check it out!”
“Oh, no.” David started to push up from the ground, but Darlene pushed him down again, her fingers posed over his ribs. The evil sister.
Jeremy and Marty peered over the women’s heads. Jeremy nodded. “That’s different. What are you, a rock star?”
The kids burst out laughing. Dennis hooted. “That’s what Mom said!”
They each slapped David on the stomach and took off back to their game. Man, they took too much after their parents.
“What made you decide to get that?” Jeremy waved the women away and held out his hand.
David accepted it. Jeremy helped pull him to his feet. “A dare one night. Last man at the scene kind of deal.”
Marty cocked his head and stared at David’s stomach. “That had to hurt.”
“Not if you had enough beers with it.” David rubbed at the tattoo. “I lost, by the way.”
“No kidding.” Jeremy shook his head. “Why didn’t you just shave your head instead? Less painful.”
David’s smile faded as did Jeremy’s. His fists clenched and his nostrils flared. Jeremy looked away.
Marty slapped them both hard on the back before David uttered a word. They winced. “Let’s go eat! Dad’s got the food ready.”
The spell broke. Jeremy walked off with Marty. David followed. His dad was placing the b
urnt beef on the table. He stepped up on the patio as Dennis breezed by.
“Grandma! Check out Uncle David’s tat!”
Loud mouth.
His mom turned around. She raised an eyebrow and squinted at the flaming tattoo. “Hmm. I think I would have gone with a little more yellow.”
His dad’s laugh bellowed as she handed David his red t-shirt and pulled the soiled one out of his hand.
David smiled and pulled the shirt on. “Funny, Mom.”
He smacked Dennis on the head as he walked by and sat down at the table. His sides ached from the torture session. Marty lit the citronella buckets on the table as Sarah uncovered the dishes.
Jeremy gazed at the platter. “Dad, are you sure you got the burgers? Or are these the briquettes?”
David chuckled as his dad threw an ice cube at Jeremy. His stomach growled at the smell of the food, even his dad’s burnt rocks. He placed his napkin in his lap as the rest of the family noisily settled into their chairs.
“Let’s ask grace.” His dad held out his hand, and one by one around the table everyone’s hands joined.
Sophie slid her hand into David’s right, and Marty Jr. grabbed his left. They bowed their heads.
“Lord, bless this time in our lives. Wonderful food and family with which to celebrate your glorious day. Thank you for bringing David safely home to us . . .”
Sophie’s hand tightened in his. The rest of the prayer flowed past him. Safely home? If they only knew, they wouldn’t think he was safe. Not at all safe.
Chapter 4
MAGGIE CLOSED THE DOOR to her Second to None consignment shop and locked it. She shuffled the folders in her hand and sighed. Even on a half-day Wednesday, she tired quickly as if it were a full day of selling. She really needed to reorganize her time.
“Maggie!”
She turned at the shout and grinned as Mrs. Turner from city hall hurried down the sidewalk toward her. “Hey, Mrs. Turner. Did you jog all the way from the courthouse?”
The plump woman huffed, fanning her red-splotched face with a well-manicured hand. “I had to catch you before you started the door-to-door.”
“Oh. Yeah, I was about to start.” Maggie looked down at the folders in her hand. “Is there something wrong?”
“Mayor Wellington needs the forms for McKay’s Jewelry Shop and Johansen Art Gallery.” She propped her hands on her wide hips, still fighting for breath. “He wants to deliver them personally. I told him you always close shop early on Wednesdays and you did the rounds before heading to church. He had me run all the way to tell you.”
Maggie chuckled. “You could have called.”
“I did.” Mrs. Turner shook her head with a laugh. “Maggie, you forget to turn your phone back on every Wednesday.”
Maggie’s face flamed. She ducked her head and flipped through the files for the mayor’s request. “I know. I meant call me before I closed shop.”
“He didn’t tell me in time.” Mrs. Turner took the files and huffed one last time. “Why do you keep turning it off?”
“Why do you, during lunch?” Maggie raised her eyebrow at the woman. “Because of the mayor!”
They laughed. Mrs. Turner fanned her face with the files. “Oh, my. Let me get these to him. I’ll see you tomorrow, Maggie.”
“Okay. Bye, Mrs. Turner.” Maggie watched the woman plod down the sidewalk at a more sedate pace. She looked both ways before crossing to the courthouse that stood in the middle of the downtown square. Maggie heaved a sigh of relief.
That was two less for her to contend with. She snorted. She needed to be shot next time she agreed to help with the festival planning. It was too stressful, especially with the mayor constantly sticking his pointy nose into everything.
She turned the corner to the small parking lot she shared with the neighboring store, Mike’s Formal Wear. Her little store used to be a small storage area for Mike’s, and she really needed to talk to Mike about the renovations. And maybe renegotiate her rental fee.
The folders threatened to fall out of her hands as she opened her truck’s passenger door. She had to take a look at her map and change into her walking shoes before she started her rounds. Standing like a flamingo, she pulled a flat off, chucked it into the truck, and struggled to pull her neon pink striped shoe onto her foot. Now the other. She stamped a few times to settle them more comfortably on her feet and then opened the glove box for her map. The layout of Jasper City unfolded in her hands, and she counted the green spots compared to the red.
She ran her finger along the downtown area. Next to Mike’s was the flower shop. Check. Cross the small street and then there were five more shops. Mrs. Turner had those. Cross another street and there was the dairy treat shop, a gift shop, and the downtown bank. She already had their commitments. Except for the dairy treat shop, which opted not to participate. May their milk curdle.
On the other side of the square was a funeral home, the jewelry store, and an old post office building that was now the art gallery. The mayor had those now. She pulled a yellow marker from the console and marked the buildings. Standing on each corner was a gas station. Check, and each was a no. She searched for her black marker and found it lying on the floorboard. She popped the top off and marked the gas stations with an X. Maggie followed the path back around to her shop, skipping over the large red brick building. That was her first stop. Then she would go from there to the large brown building behind it.
She stuffed the map back into the glove box and grabbed the folders. Now on to the Jasper City Fire Department and Jasper City Police Department. She bit her lip. The bad boy brother should be there. A small part of her felt silly. She was too old to crush on a man.
She’d go to the police department first.
The truck rocked as she slammed the door. She walked down the sidewalk in front of her store and crossed the two-lane street to the other side of the square. She gave a quick wave to Jason Martin, who stood at the rolled-up gates of the firehouse. He paused from washing the ladder truck for a moment and waved back. He motioned for her to come over, but she shook her head and held up a finger.
He would want to talk, and she didn’t have time for him. Two dates were enough to know he wasn’t the one for her. She hurried down the sidewalk and up the police department’s steps.
The air inside rushed past her as she opened the door. A large counter with a glass partition stood in front of her, with two doors on either side. An elderly woman’s voice reached her. “Jasper City Police Department.” That was Betty handling an incoming call.
The echoing sounds of phones beeping and radio chatter from the patrol cars created a symphony of sorts. Maggie crossed the small lounge area and approached the desk.
“Hey, Sandra!”
The petite black woman looked up and flashed a smile. “Hey, Maggie. Festival time?”
“Yup. Chief in?”
“No. But Captain Conners is here.” Sandra screwed up her face. “But he’s on the phone at the moment.”
Conners’ voice echoed through the building. “I said I don’t care! If you think you can do better, then be my guest!”
Sandra shrugged. “You don’t want to know. He’s been on a rampage since Monday.” She stood and disappeared past the glass partition. The door to the right clicked, and Sandra peered around it. “Come on.”
Maggie slipped through the door. “If he’s in that terrible of a mood, I can always come back later.”
Sandra shook her head, the little, tight ringlets in her hair bouncing. “No. He becomes so mellow when you’re around, and we sure could use the respite. Even Baers is on edge. Captain is out-shouting him.”
Maggie grinned at the officer’s name. “And how is that coming along?”
“Slow. For a smart, handsome fellow, he sure is dumb about women.” She paused at the corner of the hall. “Go on in. I gotta get back to the desk. Betty can’t handle the calls all by herself.”
“Okay.” She stopped Sandra before she turne
d around to leave. “You should just ask him out for coffee. Take him to Jack’s. Thaddeus Baers is not a man who will make the first move. Trust me. That guy is one shy bear.”
Sandra’s white grin flashed. “I think I will. Tomorrow. From what I heard, he and Jeremy are going to be pretty busy tonight. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Thanks, Sandra.” She turned around and tiptoed to the captain’s office. Her knuckles barely rapped the door when his voice caused her to jump.
“I said next week. Sergeant Boyette has assured me that the informant will have the information we need for the bust.” There was a pause. “I know. Yes, sir, I know.” A crash echoed in the room.
Maggie pushed at the door and cleared her voice. “Ahem. Captain?”
Conners looked up from the overturned metal mail tray. “Ah, Maggie. You are a pleasant surprise.”
She snorted. “Surprise? You knew I was coming.”
“Not this early.”
“Well, I thought I would see if my favorite police captain was ready with the donation list and the signup roster for the game.”
He waved to a chair. “Sit. And yeah, I got it somewhere.” He looked under a stack and then opened a drawer and shuffled papers.
Maggie sat down and surveyed the top of his desk. She spied a spreadsheet on his mail tray and picked up the light blue paper. “Is this it?”
He pulled his half-submerged head out of the drawer. “Oh, that it is.”
Maggie laughed and read the list. “I see you got Jeremy on the list. Playing second base? You know the game is at five. He’s not working that night?”
Conners shook his head and opened the other drawer, pushing folders aside. “Yes and no. I put the men on half shifts; that way they can all participate at the festival. Caused a major headache juggling all those schedules, but it’s a once-a-year thing. Anything for my boys.”
Maggie accepted the white folder he pulled out and handed to her. “Are these the donations?”
“Yes. I have them at the house. You can have them picked up anytime. Just call Martha so she’ll know when to expect you or whoever.”
“Okay. I don’t see you on the roster.”
