Small-Town Secrets

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “So what did they do, huh, boy?” she whispered, sitting at her desk. She didn’t have to look around to notice everyone’s attention was centered on her, even if no one looked in her direction. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  She didn’t miss the sound of Frank Robert’s malicious chuckle from the other side of the room.

  She swiftly reviewed past misdeeds thought up by co-workers. The flour bomb left in a desk drawer. Her picture pasted on top of a Playboy centerfold. Fake vomit placed under her desk chair. She affectionately called the perpetrators her own juvenile delinquents. And she did her own damage when the occasion arose.

  She found what she was looking for in the second drawer. As soon as she opened it, a triangular head slid upward and a narrow, forked tongue flicked out to test the air. Bree leaned back a bit as a long, sinuous column swept toward her, seeking the heat of her body.

  “Well, aren’t you a cutie,” she cooed, picking up the snake, which immediately wrapped itself around her arm. “And what did they arrest you for?” She glanced at Jinx, who whined in displeasure at having such a creature invade his partner’s private space. She had no doubt every eye was on her. “A rosy boa, isn’t he?” she said to no one in particular. She stroked the reptile’s head. “My oldest son has one.”

  Keith, one of the deputies, rose to his feet. He looked a little uneasy as he approached her. “So that’s where he got to,” he chuckled, but the sound came out forced. “Mabel’s my son’s snake,” he explained, walking over with his hand outstretched, ready to take the boa from her.

  “Mabel,” Bree murmured as she studied the reptile, which seemed content to remain wrapped around her arm. “Interesting name. Ours is named David Boa.” She grinned.

  This time Keith’s chuckle was more natural as he understood the twist on words. As he turned, he caught sight of Frank’s dark expression. He turned away immediately.

  “Keith, do you have some place for Mabel or should I just put her back in my desk?” Bree asked. “She seemed to have made herself at home there.”

  His face reddened even more. “Ah, I’ve got a box in my locker.”

  “She can stay here until you get back.” She set the snake back in the drawer.

  Bree noticed some of the men looked wary, but a few still appeared hostile. She sensed this was just the beginning of pranks meant to test a new colleague.

  But Bree wasn’t easily intimidated.

  Since it was getting close to the time for her lunch meeting, she walked Jinx outside to the small fenced enclosure fixed up for him. She made sure he had plenty of water before she closed the gate after him.

  “Can you believe those guys thought they could scare me with a measly snake?” she asked her canine partner. “As if that would do it. I have teenagers, for God’s sake!”

  She went back inside and stopped in the ladies’ room long enough to freshen her lipstick and cologne. She knew her outfit was professional looking, with a touch of femininity—a square of lace peeking out of the pocket on her navy houndstooth vest, topping navy linen pants. She made sure her pager was switched on, then grabbed her purse and left.

  Now to see if the man looked as good as he sounded.

  The man looked even better than he sounded.

  Bree might not have met Cole Becker before, but when she stepped inside the restaurant, she had no problem targeting her quarry.

  He sat in the last booth, his back against the wall. Long jean-clad legs were stretched out in front of him. Neatly shorn black hair flecked with silver framed a blatantly male face, whose signs of wear and tear only accented his rough good looks. A faded gray, cotton button-down shirt matched the equally faded jeans.

  He looked like a man who had all the time in the world. As if nothing mattered except what he was going to order for lunch.

  Bree knew better. There was something in that deceptively lazy gaze wandering over her that said this man probably knew everything about her down to her bra size. Just from that look.

  An energetic Beatles tune boomed out of a jukebox near the front door. The first thing that hit the people who entered the restaurant was the black and hot-pink decor. Hot-pink vinyl bench seats framed black tables of the booths, and pink and black vinyl alternated on stools at the counter. Most of them were occupied, Bree noted. Chatter momentarily halted as the occupants paused and identified the newcomer.

  Her gaze returned to the man sitting in the booth at the rear of the room.

  Oh my God. No man should look this good.

  She resolutely kept her jaw up off the floor as she walked toward him. This man didn’t need to worry that the lines by his eyes and mouth had been stamped there by time and the sun. They only intensified his good looks. He watched her with an expression that also betrayed a hint of amusement, as if he was aware of her thoughts.

  He has to be used to lots of feminine appreciation.

  Storm-gray eyes that matched his shirt tracked her movements. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion and held out his hand.

  He had to be a good six feet two inches to her five feet eight. She wasn’t used to men towering over her, and it had been a long time since a man looked at her the way Cole Becker was. As if she was today’s blue plate special.

  “Detective Fitzpatrick, I’m Cole Becker.” He spoke in that kind of supremely masculine voice that wouldn’t sound out of place in a woman’s bedroom.

  Where did that thought come from? She firmly shook it off before it gathered too much momentum.

  “Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward the bench across from his, then looked past her. “Did you leave your partner back at the station?”

  She mentally gave him points for knowing about Jinx. But then, as Roy had told her, there’s no privacy in a small town.

  “His table manners can’t always be trusted,” she replied, sliding across the hot-pink vinyl seat.

  “Too bad. I was hoping to meet him.” Cole sat down. “I can guarantee everything they serve here is fantastic,” he added, nodding toward the menu. “And it’s on me.”

  Bree arched an eyebrow. “Some might see that as bribing a police officer.”

  “I don’t think Holloway would consider a $5.95 hamburger a bribe,” Cole murmured with amusement. “But if you order the steak sandwich, favors will be asked for.”

  “Hey there, hon.” A waitress stopped by the table. Her gaze was filled with unabashed curiosity as she stared down at Bree.

  “Annie, this is the town’s new detective, Bree Fitzpatrick,” Cole introduced. “Detective, this is Annie, the love of my life who keeps me well fed.”

  Annie shot him her “get out of here” look.

  “Nice to meet you, hon,” she said warmly. “What can I get you to drink?”

  Bree smiled back. “Iced tea, please.”

  She nodded and started to walk away.

  “Hey, Annie, I don’t get asked?” Cole said with mock hurt.

  She laughed. “Oh, hon, the day you don’t drink black coffee is the day the sky will turn plaid.” She wiggled ample hips encased in denim. “I’ll get your drinks now. That’ll give the detective time to figure out what she wants to eat.” She pointed her finger at Cole. “You, I already know.”

  “Eat here often, do you?” Bree asked, entertained by the waitress’s lively chatter.

  “Only two times a day, seven days a week,” he admitted. “But we’re here to talk about you. I understand you have three kids. Two from your husband’s first marriage, the third yours and your husband’s.”

  The light in Bree’s eyes dimmed a bit. As if obeying a command from within, she pasted on her professional expression.

  “I consider all three mine,” she replied, pausing long enough to murmur her thanks as the waitress deposited her drink in front of her. “But I really prefer we not discuss my children. I like to keep my work and personal life separate.”

  The lines fanning out from his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You’ve never lived in a small town before, h
ave you? The favorite entertainment around here is learning everything you can about your neighbor. Once the residents know all the little details, they consider you one of their own. It’s already common knowledge you bought Mrs. McGyver’s place. As for your job, the city council liked your credentials, which I have to say were impressive, and your hire was almost immediate. Detectives with your credentials don’t usually come to a place like Warm Springs,” he told her. “Of course, it doesn’t hurt when you’ve got some city politicians on your side.”

  Bree’s gaze could have cut through him like a hot knife through butter. He didn’t look the least bit cowed. If anything, he smiled more.

  She looked up when Annie returned to take her order. Bree quickly examined the menu and asked for a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich.

  “I’ll have my usual,” Cole said.

  Annie gave an unladylike snort. “Like I didn’t already know.” She moved away.

  “One day I’ll order something different,” he called after her.

  “Sure, and tomorrow Harrison Ford is going to show up and take me away from all this grandeur,” the waitress snickered.

  Bree smothered her chuckle. “Stand in line.”

  Cole looked at Bree and decided she was one fine-looking woman, even if she did carry a gun and could probably pin him up against a wall with a minimum of effort.

  He’d never thought of freckles as sexy until he noticed them lightly dusted across her nose. They went with the red hair tucked behind her ears and wisped across her forehead. Her tailored clothing stated she was no-nonsense. Probably had to give that impression because of her occupation. But the citron studs in her ears, gold filigreed chain around her neck and the hint of perfume proclaimed her femininity to anyone who cared to look for it. His gaze flicked downward. She wore no wedding ring, so she must have laid her husband to rest even in her heart.

  Cole was positive she’d deck him if he told her she was cute.

  Besides, she was not his type. Law enforcement officials he’d met in the past were pretty regimented in their thinking. And the woman had three kids.

  No, not his type. Even if just looking at her made his day.

  This meeting was purely business, however. He’d dangled a little mystery in front of the lady to get her here. After all, who was more qualified to solve a murder than a homicide detective?

  He wondered if he could trust her.

  “How about if I start off with some humor,” he suggested. “What was one of the funniest things to happen to you on the job?”

  Bree thought for a moment. “The first year I worked patrol, we were called to a carjacking scene. We were only a block away and arrived in time to see the suspect take off. We wasted no time in going after him. We apprehended the suspect and told him we were bringing him back for an ID. The minute we pulled him out of the car to face the woman, he said, ‘Yep, that’s the lady I robbed.’ He was dead serious when he said it, too. My partner and I couldn’t stop laughing. Good thing we’d Mirandized him the minute we grabbed him. There was no way his confession could be thrown out. That good enough for you?”

  Cole chuckled. “Definitely. You gotta love an easy confession like that.”

  “It did make it a lot easier for us,” she admitted.

  “I would think Warm Springs would seem pretty quiet after the fast pace in L.A.,” he commented, looking up to smile at Annie as she set their plates in front of them. As always, his hamburger was grilled to perfection, the sauteed mushrooms on top of the meat finishing the work of art. The onion rings were golden brown and crispy. “Marry me, Annie,” he begged.

  “The day I say yes is the day you’ll hotfoot it out of town,” she hooted.

  “That’s what you eat every day?” Bree asked curiously, as she sprinkled salt on her French fries.

  He shook his head. “Only on Wednesdays. I believe in a varied diet. So tell me, how long did you work for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department?”

  “I was with the department for twelve years, the last three in homicide.”

  “I guess Warm Springs seems pretty tame after all the excitement you had in L.A.,” he commented.

  Her smile rivaled that of a shark moving in for the kill. “Sometimes what looks tame on the surface isn’t. I’ve heard that can happen in small towns.”

  Damn, he should have known better than to underestimate the lady. It was as if she knew exactly what he was leading up to. But would she accuse him of chasing shadows that weren’t there?

  She pushed her plate to one side so she could rest her arms on the tabletop. She fixed him with a steely gaze that had prompted more than one suspect to confess all. “Cut to the chase, Becker. Why are we sitting here having this conversation? No BS, either.”

  “I’m just making conversation,” he drawled, falling back into the good-ole-boy routine that had lulled more than one subject he’d interviewed in the past. And gotten him some good quotes in the process. “I like to write up an accurate article. There’s nothing worse than a sheriff’s detective ticked off because I spelled her name wrong.”

  Her verbal rejoinder to his glib reply was succinct and to the point.

  Cole’s grin was slow to appear, but earth-shattering to the senses. “Damn, woman, I like your style. Something tells me you’re going to give this town the kind of shake-up it needs.” He leaned back, resting one arm across the back of the bench seat. He cocked his head to the side, watching her with piercing eyes that seemed to probe past any defenses she might erect.

  Her return smile would have scared off a great white shark. “Lordy, Becker. Compliments like that will only go to my head,” she purred.

  Cole looked stunned, but quickly recovered. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but waited until after Annie paused by the table to see if they needed anything.

  “During your time in homicide, did you ever have a funny feeling about a case? Something that just didn’t feel right?” Cole asked when they were alone again. “A feeling that what was in front of you wasn’t what it should be? That while everyone else said it was fine, you knew deep down it wasn’t?”

  Good. The lady looked intrigued.

  “That’s not unusual for any good cop,” she said with a hint of caution in her voice. “When you’ve been on the job long enough, you learn to follow your instincts.”

  “Even if it means stirring up trouble?” he pressed. “What if there’s an excellent chance that there’s someone from your own department involved in something illegal?”

  She returned his gaze with an equally bold one of her own. “Then you do what you have to do. Just because somebody wears a shield doesn’t mean they’re exempt. Your job is to arrest the bad guys,” she said candidly.

  “No matter who it is?”

  “No matter who it is,” she repeated.

  Cole shrugged. “The mind-set of a police officer is interesting. You not only have hard and fast rules to follow, but you need to follow your instincts, too.”

  He noticed she absently placed her hand against the back of her neck, as if something bothered her.

  “So what are you not telling me, Becker? What conspiracy do you believe has cropped up in Warm Springs?” Her emerald eyes glittered. “I’m sorry, I haven’t read your newspaper long enough to know what your views are—if you think aliens are landing in the desert or a wild coyote boy is living out there.”

  Cole didn’t miss the mocking implication.

  “Why don’t you eat your lunch first. Then we’ll talk.”

  “I hope this doesn’t mean I don’t get dessert,” she murmured, as she picked up her sandwich.

  Cole finished his hamburger in record time. With every bite he kept an eye on his companion, as she, too, ate with relish.

  Bree Fitzpatrick wasn’t what he’d expected. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t met more than his share of female detectives, some of them downright gorgeous. But there was something about her that fascinated him.

  When he’d le
arned the city council had hired a new detective, he’d been curious about what kind of officer they’d chosen. He hadn’t expected Detective Fitzpatrick to be a widowed mother of three, two of them teenagers. He thought he’d meet a hard-nosed cop who’d worked toward her twenty years on the force and looked every one of those years. A woman no one in his right mind would want to cross. He would hazard a guess that no one in his right mind would cross this woman, and for all Cole knew she was a hard-nosed cop. But there was more to her than that. He’d say Bree Fitzpatrick was made up of more than grit.

  He also hoped she had good instincts.

  “Dessert?” Annie asked cheerfully.

  Bree looked past him so she could read the brightly marked board on a wall.

  “Pink lemonade pie?”

  Annie nodded. “You’ll love it.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Coconut pie for me, my love,” Cole said.

  Annie rolled her eyes. “As if you’d ever have anything different.” She moved away.

  “It sounds as if you’ve dug yourself into a rut,” Bree commented. “Maybe you should shake things up a bit yourself by ordering something different next time.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Bree looked at the chalkboard set next to the dessert board. She read the brightly colored words and laughed. Customers using cell phones in here will be treated with the same courtesy as anyone lighting up a cigarette.

  Next to the board were two hooks. A squirt gun hung from the first and a waterfilled, clear plastic bucket hung from the second. A cell phone rested in the watery depths.

  “The cell phone belongs to a businessman who’d stopped for lunch and didn’t believe the sign,” Cole said, noticing her interest. “He threatened to sue until he discovered he wouldn’t have a chance of winning, since the sign is up where everyone can see it.”

  “I’ll remember to keep mine turned off,” she murmured, as the waitress dropped off their desserts.

  Bree quickly discovered that pink lemonade pie was something very close to heaven even if there wasn’t one hint of chocolate in it. She finished the rich pie in no time and knew she’d be back for more.