by Carol Devine
Complex investigations were what she trained for and thrived on. She was actively soliciting law firms and insurance companies all over the state. Maybe it was a pipe dream for a sole proprietor like herself to play with the big boys but she had to believe, if she persisted, it was only a matter of time.
With the Travers and Wilton cases closed, it seemed wholly appropriate to take a victory lap around the park. Considering the effect it seemed to have on Jed Wilton, she should make it two.
* * * * *
For the third time in a week, Shane called Mariah to set a time to meet for coffee at Sam's. It had been ten days since Jessie had packed her and Kelly's bags, and Shane had not solicited Mariah's advice about anything having to do with them. Nor had he confessed other problems which might result in PI-type inquiries. Nor had he suggested other people who might be interested in hiring her. Despite her best efforts, keeping their meetings focused on generating business leads had resulted in the opposite.
Diverting entertainment? Yes. Effective in terms of meeting her goals, not so much.
Judging by his dogged persistence in drawing her out and introducing a whole range of subject that had nothing to do with business, she was certain that these little get-togethers were his way of showing interest in more than her investigatory skills.
Until now, she'd been indulgent about accommodating him, partly because he liked to meet late afternoon, her least busiest time, and partly because they split the bill, making it seem purely professional. But unless he was ready to hire her , she was cutting her losses and ending these useless encounters. They had to be work-related or she was wasting her time, time she could better spend drumming up leads on her own.
Shane entered Sam's Hunt and Fish in his typical rush, grabbed his coffee and slid into the seat at the table where Mariah had set up her laptop. He'd left his cowboy hat on, and now that the summer heat had arrived, he'd started rolling his shirtsleeves past his elbows, showing off the tough, tanned strength of his arms.
"You know, Doc, I've been thinking."
"Is that so?" Mariah had taken the lead about the lack of greeting, believing it was yet another subtle way of keeping herself on a professional footing with him. If she gave Shane an inch, he tended to take things a mile, and she'd learned shutting down the charm offensive saved her time and angst later.
"You believe clients are secretive beings who won't come see you unless it's under the radar. It's a good thing you opened your business in Grizzly Springs because that theory won't carry weight here. Here, everybody knows everybody's business. To be seen coming and going out of your office is a big boon to us Grizzlies. Makes us feel important, like we can unleash some gigantic secret no one else in town has a clue about. Except you, of course."
As usual, he appeared perfectly serious even though what he was saying sounded completely inane. "Uh... interesting theory."
"Think so? I've noticed you have a mite more understanding of the human condition. I suppose you got your money's worth with those advanced degrees. Hope you managed to pay off those student loans."
She cleared her throat. "You paid for it, not me."
He stopped sipping his coffee to stare at her. "Say what?"
"If a Special Agent qualifies, the FBI will pay for the best training in the world, courtesy of the American taxpayer."
"Our tax dollars at work?"
"Except for my undergraduate debt, you're looking at living proof."
Surprisingly, he seemed rather happy at the news. "You know what that means, don't you?"
"I can only imagine."
"You owe us taxpayers a meal. No splitting the bill on this one, Dr. McBride. It's all on you. And I'm an expensive date. Saturday night special at the Tavern is prime rib, the biggest pig-out in town."
Mariah proceeded carefully. "I must admit, if you gave me a referral or two that turned into a decent retainer, I suppose I could bring myself to feed your ugly mug one time. Pretend it's your birthday or something. But then we go back to splitting things right down the middle."
"Only if I can return the favor and take you out on your birthday."
"That's sweet of you to offer but I like to go out with big groups of people in order to get as many gifts as possible."
"I better start planning then. When is it?"
"I'll tell you when it gets closer."
"You're not one of those women who lie about birthdays, are you? Like give the wrong date and take ten years off your age?"
"Ugh. Who wants to be twenty-three again, pretending to be a grown up?"
"So you're saying you've grown up?"
"I wouldn't go that far. I still put chocolate milk in my cereal."
"I'm a cocoa and marshmallow freak, myself, Doc. Growing up is a life-long process. I'm four years older than you, so I know." He gulped the rest of his coffee and eyed hers. "Can I get you a refill?"
"I've had enough for today. But why don't you take one back to Ana? Sam's gotten ambitious and is offering a few specialty coffees now. She likes mocha."
He mulled over her suggestion. "That's one way to shoo me out of here. And Ana might be inspired to new heights of spreadsheet frenzy. Good idea, Doc."
He rose to join the line and used the time to consult his phone, then make a quick inspection of the display around the cash register, buying a package of Sam's Special Blend as he paid for Ana's coffee.
As soon as he finished, Mariah shifted her gaze, focusing on her computer screen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stop by her table again. She was definitely going to have to put an end to these little get-togethers, possible referrals or no. He was too good at pushing the conversation out of the professional into the personal, however much she tried to avoid it.
He pulled a piece of notepaper from his jeans pocket. "Got a couple of referrals here for you."
Her mouth dropped open. "You're serious?"
"You sound like you don't believe me." He handed her the paper. "Doug Masterson manages the local branch of Aspen Bank and Trust. He needs advice about the placement of his security cameras. The other one is the woman who runs HR at the mine where Juan Garcia is foreman. They need background checks on new hires."
"Uh… This is great. Thanks, Shane. I'll call them as soon as I get back to the office."
"Business going okay?"
"It's not running in the black yet but it's growing."
"Bird bugging you anymore?"
"I can handle Bird. I hope he's leaving you alone."
"Yeah, he pretty much sticks to the liquor store and local watering holes."
She started gathering her things together, deliberately letting the conversation lapse. "I've got to go."
"Me, too. I'm still waiting to hear back from a few other buddies of mine who might be interested in hiring you. Same time, same place, tomorrow?"
"Um… You won't see me here anymore. My Wi-Fi connection is about to go online."
"Great. Now I'll know exactly where to find you and get free coffee to boot. You sure know how to keep clients happy, Doc. Thanks for letting me know."
She opened her mouth but he swept out the door, armed with his purchases, purchases he wasn't going to have to make in the future because he'd be at her place of business, swilling her coffee. Much as she had reason to appreciate the new leads, the guy was getting to be a real nuisance.
The next day Shane brought Mariah another referral, and the next day, another. She settled into a pattern of meeting with him two to three times a week, and though she managed to confine it to short coffee breaks, seeing him became a regular thing, something she looked forward to, despite her determination to keep him at arm's length.
It became a game with them, the pursuer and the pursued, switching back and forth from the professional to the personal and back again, with Mariah keeping his visits short and to-the-point, two small business owners shooting the breeze about small town life in general, and how to get ahead in particular.
Fifteen or twenty minutes
every other day or two. Mariah believed she could manage it, as long as she kept the focus on her plan to make as much money as humanly possible in as short a time as possible. At the end of her lease, she would be more than ready to kiss Grizzly Springs goodbye.
* * * * *
Three weeks later, Mariah made the mistake of dashing into the General Store right before closing to buy something quick for dinner after a meeting with a client in Aspen.
Bird was inside, wielding a tire iron and smashing at the locked case that held cigarettes. Pablo Cabrillo was trying to stop the robbery by training a shotgun in Bird's direction. But Mariah could see from Pablo's expression that the last thing he was going to do was pull the trigger. Even so, her first move was to go to his side and force the gun barrel down, keeping it pointed towards the floor.
"Diane's calling 911," Pablo said. "She's in the back, waiting to let them in. Can you do something?"
"With him smashing things, it's better if it's the Sheriff who stops him. Bird'll blame anyone within swinging distance. With the Sheriff, he knows the drill."
The glass in the cabinet broke. Bird grabbed cigarette boxes in both hands and darted for the front door. Mariah dropped her purse and went after him, but he disappeared in the darkness, and the cars and trucks parked on the street prevented her from seeing what direction he went.
Mariah returned to the store weary, even though she knew none of it was her fault. She found Sheriff Wilma Del Toro inspecting the crime scene personally. She was a sturdy, barrel-chested woman, a former Army sergeant and combat veteran given to flat-eyed stares and gruff tones when the situation called for it. Combined with her MP background, she was a respected authority figure and had been elected Sheriff in a landslide.
Wilma whistled when she spotted the damage. "Give me a list of what was taken, Pablo, and I'll run it down."
Pablo kicked at the mess on the floor. "The last time this happened was three months ago. He spent, at most, two nights in jail. I see him in the alley out back every other day, scrounging in our dumpsters. There has to be something the law can do."
"He's a real pain, it's true. But every town has one and he's gotten pretty good over the years at defending himself in court. Keep an eye out for him and call us when he starts making a nuisance of himself. Most of the time, he's collecting bottles and metal cans he can turn into cash. Meanwhile, what we have here tonight is concrete evidence of stolen merchandise. We also have another witness to boot, aside from you and Diane."
From under her official gray cowboy hat, Wilma appraised Mariah keenly. "Do you mind giving a statement, Dr. McBride? Maybe the fact our witness is former FBI and related to the accused will carry more weight than usual with our county court judge."
"Yes, of course. The safest place for him is in a locked facility, whether it be jail or rehab. It would certainly be the safest place for Pablo, Diane and the rest of us."
Everyone assented, which didn't do much to assuage Mariah's guilt, although it did seem to mollify the Cabrillos. After Sheriff Del Toro took photographs of the destroyed cabinet and broken glass, Pablo swept while Mariah gave her statement. When it was Pablo's turn, Diane was kind enough to ring up a deli sandwich for Mariah, which she ate while waiting for the process to be over. By the time she was able to leave the store, it was well after nine p.m. The only activity going on around town was at the Tavern at the end of the street.
She decided to walk home rather than drive the SUV the scant six blocks. The place she'd parked to run into the General Store was well-traveled and well lit, as opposed to her storefront on the less popular Rio Grande Avenue. Considering her previous run-ins with Bird, she'd rather not risk another tire-slashing incident or worse. She wouldn't be surprised if he was bad-mouthing her and the Cabrillos right now to whatever audience he might be able to find tonight.
Shouldering her purse, she started off, determined to end the evening curled up with a good book rather than give in to another guilt trip about Bird. She was going to give serious consideration to breaking her lease and finding someplace cheap to live in Denver and do her work out of an apartment. Anywhere else had to be better than being constantly reminded of what a lowlife her father was.
"Mariah?"
She recognized Shane's voice coming from behind her and, for a split-second, she ignored him because she was tired and her defenses were down. But she also knew Shane wasn't going to let her get away with a sudden case of deafness. She pretended a look of mild interest.
"Oh, it's you, Shane. Fancy meeting you here."
He closed the gap between them with his usual speed. "I just finished dinner at the Tavern. It's a little late for you to be out, isn't it?"
"I needed some air. Still have some work to finish tonight. Maybe we can get together in a few days, talk shop. I'll text you when I have my schedule in front of me." Saying it with finality, she turned her back on him and tried not to scurry away like a rat in the night.
But of course he pounced, Shane style. He matched her stride like he'd been there all along. "I'll walk you home."
"I'm only going as far as the office to finish some research. It's what, a couple of blocks? I think I can handle it."
"I know you're packing, Doc. But it's late and walking you down the street makes me feel better, like you actually may need a little male protection once in a while."
"I came out to clear my head and being on my own helps. Why don't you go back to the Tavern and find a real damsel-in-distress to rescue?"
"I've always wondered where that expression comes from. What the heck is a damsel, anyway?"
"Seriously, Shane. No offense, but I'm looking for some time to myself."
"If you need some peace, I'll shut my mouth. I just want to see you safely inside."
She felt like tearing her hair out. Did the guy ever stop? "Has anyone ever told you you're living in an alternate universe called Shane Land, where men are John Wayne, women are Cinderella and horses are mystical beasts, flying the four winds?"
"Remarkably poetic, Doc. It reminds me of the time John Wayne fished you out of the river and saved you from drowning."
"You mean the time you plowed into me with no warning whatever?"
"That isn't how I remember it. I saved you from freezing your pretty ass off by giving you the clothes off my back."
She halted, unwilling to give him such credit. "I don't think even you can make a case that lending me your coat in any way saved my ass. You're jeans, maybe. But the rest of your clothes? No way."
"The point is, I stripped your wet clothes off, I looked you over and I liked what I saw. You have a magnificent body, Mariah, and I don't understand why you keep it covered up most of the time."
"You looked me over? You lied to me?"
"I give you a helluva compliment and you accuse me of lying?"
"Yes! I hate being lied to." She stalked on, flipping her ponytail in hopes of flipping him off, fed up with these teasing attempts to make light of the boundaries she continually tried to set. He didn't take the hint and appeared at her side. This time his profile looked solemn and his voice was low.
"I wouldn't call you magnificent if it wasn't true."
She tried another tack, feigning indifference. "If you want the truth, I caught you looking but let it slide since you were trying to save my life. Now, go away, will you?"
"You still won't accept the compliment. I'm trying to move past this prickly thing you do, hoping to get--"
"Okay, okay! Thank you for your glorious compliment!"
"Now you're yelling. What are you so all-fired upset about?"
She faced him, making sure it was under a light source, where he could see how incredibly annoyed she was. The lamp hung from the edge of a brick building, illuminating the sidewalk and the alley alongside. "Because you're picking at me, Shane. Pick, pick, pick, like a chicken with its feed. I don't get why you do that. All along, I've made it clear. I'm not interested in being anything more than friends."
"I'm
tired of us being friends. Let me kiss you. I've been hitting on you for awhile now but you haven't been picking up the signs." He pulled her into the alley but she broke his grip, panicky at the mere thought of getting that close to him.
"I have picked up the signs but I was hoping if I kept repeating myself, it wouldn't come to this. I don't want to kiss you, Shane. Sorry to be blunt but there it is. Plus, I'm mad at you, in case you hadn't noticed."
He closed in on her, crowding her against the brick wall of the building shadowing the alley. "I know you're trying to shut me down. But let me kiss you anyway just to show how wrong I am to want to do it."
Trying to fight his brand of logic was impossible. Out of desperation, she tried shrugging him off with humor. "Shane, this is silly."
"Close your eyes."
"No, I won't."
"I haven't done the eyes open thing for awhile cause it's a little kinky. But if you insist..."
"Trying to make me laugh is not going to work."
"Why? You don't laugh enough, in my opinion."
"Stop criticizing me!"
"Don't compliment, don't criticize... all I'm doing is telling you what I think. Just like I think you have great legs and a great smile. That is, when you use it. It's pretty devastating, even when you're hiding it like you're doing now."
"That is not true! I am not hiding anything! You are so frustrating! Why can't you be like a normal guy?"
"What's a normal guy?"
"A guy who actually takes offense when I say there's no way in hell I'd ever be interested. I want you to leave me alone."
"Do you really want to be left alone, Mariah? I won't kiss you if you do."
He looked serious, like he really was speaking the truth. It made her consider his question for a little too long and his mouth kicked up on one side like he'd won the argument. The only thing she could think of to do was to kiss him herself, making it as soft and awkward as possible, hoping to turn him off and make him scratch his head in regret, asking himself what the hell had he been thinking?
