by B L Crumley
“So, he could be a legitimate suspect?”
“Again, it’s possible,” Fern paused. “But it seems that Earl was the one upset, not Russell. Unless there was an argument gone wrong, where Russell hadn’t intended to kill Earl, I have a hard time buying it.”
“Well, it’s something, and worth looking into.” I turned back to Walter. “Anything else?”
Walter responded with more teeth clicking and shook his head. “Nope, can’t think of anything.” He shifted his attention to Fern. “So, how was your time in the slammer?”
Fern grimaced. “I was only there a few hours. What have you heard?”
He shrugged his bony shoulders. “Not much. It’s a shame though. Does this mean you won’t be giving me any more hooch at Christmas?”
Seriously? That’s what he was worried about?
“Yes, it is,” I played to his concern. “Got any ideas about how Fern can get out of this scrape? The sheriff seems intent on prosecuting her.”
“Ahh, baloney.” Walter swiped a hand through the air. “The sheriff will come around. This is Rockfish Bay. He doesn’t work for the DEA anymore. No one cares about a little moonshine.”
I hadn’t heard Cole was an agent for the Drug Enforcement Agency. It’s possible my parents mentioned it at some point, but we didn’t talk all that much, and I probably hadn’t been paying attention.
“How did a DEA agent end up as the sheriff? Seems like a step down, doesn’t it?” I asked.
Fern snorted. “Your father convinced him to stay, that’s how.”
Walter waved his hands frantically up and down, reminding me of a monkey. “No, his wife left him, and he wanted a fresh start.”
Oooh, the plot thickens. “Is that true, Fern?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I know he came up from California following a drug smuggling ring, and was working undercover. He got the local cops involved to make the bust, and was hailed as the town hero. Our longtime sheriff was set to retire, and your dad convinced Cole to take the job. Well, I should say your dad took the credit for it, so who knows what actually happened.”
That sounded about right.
“Don’t you worry, Fern. I got your back.” Walter lowered the footrest on his chair. “Well, ladies, great seeing you, but I gotta get going. Time for coffee and checkers at Lulu’s. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”
Fern and I stood to go. “Thanks, Walter.” Fern dipped her head in acknowledgment and headed for the door.
“Come back anytime,” Walter said directly to me and winked.
I gave him a fake smile, but I don’t think he noticed, as he clicked his teeth again and shuffled back to the kitchen.
We let ourselves out.
“Now what?” I asked, as Fern and I started down the cobblestone path.
“I think we should talk to Patty. Actually, maybe you could. She probably thinks I killed her husband.”
Unfortunately, my aunt made a valid point. “Not a problem. I’m going to do whatever I can to help you, Fern.”
“Thanks, Charlee.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m getting hungry. How about some crepes?”
“You got it.”
Chapter Six
As I pulled into my parents’ driveway for dinner that evening, I parked next to a dark charcoal truck I didn’t recognize. My mom hadn’t mentioned inviting anyone, and other than my brothers’ families who had an open invitation to family gatherings, I hadn’t assumed anyone else would be here.
With everything that had happened in the last two days, I wasn’t in the mood to make polite chitchat with anyone, even my parents (especially if my mother was going to tell me I was puffy again).
I reminded myself that I was in town to help Fern, and if that meant I had to suffer through an uncomfortable meal or two with my parents, then so be it. Who knows, maybe I’d get lucky and glean something useful to get my aunt off the hook. After all, my parents did know many of the locals.
For my sake, I just hoped my mom hadn’t done something stupid like invite Kenny or the sheriff. After he’d arrested Fern yesterday, I had nothing polite to say to that man.
Reaching for my purse, I slid it over my shoulder, then got out of my SUV to open the back door to retrieve the salad and dessert I’d offered to bring for dinner. As I leaned down to pick up the salad bowl, I heard my parents’ front door open and close.
“Hi, Charlee,” called a man’s voice I’d hoped to not hear this evening, or anytime soon for that matter.
“Sheriff,” I said, as I grabbed the bowl and turned to see Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome standing several feet from me. I don’t know why I still thought of him like that.
“Please, it’s just Cole. I’m off duty,” he smiled, with dimples.
The female in me wanted to sigh appreciatively. But I knew better. Off duty, yeah right. I gave him a tight smile.
“Can I help you carry something? Your mom said you might need help.”
Ah, so that’s why he came out here. It still didn’t explain why he was here. A crazy thought involving my mom trying to play matchmaker flitted through my mind and I stiffened.
“Sure, you can carry the salad.” I shoved the bowl in his direction. He took it, eyeing me thoughtfully. “Thanks,” I mumbled. He made me a little nervous. I turned away from him and picked up the chocolate cake.
“Wow, that looks amazing.” His eyes widened with genuine appreciation, making it difficult for me to stay frustrated with him.
“Thanks,” I replied again. Closing the car door, I moved past him and headed toward the house. My parents lived just south of town in a house they’d built several years ago. With all of us kids grown, my mom had wanted to downsize, or so she’d said, but the house they built wasn’t any smaller than the home I’d grown up in; it was just newer and had an ocean view.
I think what my mom wanted was something nicer than the home she’d raised her family in for thirty years, but downsizing sounded better than saying she wanted to upgrade so she could impress everyone, which I felt was rather the case.
Their new home wasn’t gaudy or ostentatious by any means, but for Rockfish Bay it was considered pretty swanky, with large windows facing the Pacific, vaulted ceilings, stone flooring and countertops, and high-end appliances. It epitomized sleek and contemporary.
“So, your parents tell me you make wedding cakes,” Cole said as he walked beside me. “How long have you been doing that?”
“Several years.” I finally gave him more than a one-word response. Not that it was much better.
“That’s nice. Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes,” I nodded, scolding myself for being so rude. He was really trying. I couldn’t remember the last guy who’d asked me about my work and actually meant it. And definitely not someone as cute as Cole. “I work for Draymond’s Hotel in Portland.”
“Fancy.”
“Yeah, it is. I started as a sous chef, and after a few years one of the bakers left unexpectedly, so I filled in. I’d trained as both a chef and a baker, but most of my experience had been with cooking. Thankfully, it went well, and they decided to keep me in that role. I enjoy baking more than cooking. I have a sweet tooth.” I smiled guiltily and he laughed, a rich sound that startled me.
The front door opened. “Charlee, well doesn’t that look delicious!” My dad grinned, leaning forward to smell the cake. Chocolate cake with raspberry filling and chocolate ganache was his favorite; that’s why I made it. That and my mom rarely allowed sweets in the house.
My dad motioned for us to come inside, and I headed for the dining room, which was situated off to one side of the great room in the open-concept space. When I saw the table set for four, I realized that no one else was coming, and felt butterflies take flight in my stomach.
Talking with just Cole made me a little nervous. But Col
e and my parents, well, that had the makings of an awkward first date. Except for the date part.
After we were seated and my dad said grace, my mom smiled back and forth between Cole and me, who she’d purposefully seated across from me. Yeah, this felt like a setup. My stomach continued to churn, which was unfortunate because I had been planning to eat a large piece of cake later.
I had thought that awkward conversation might be the biggest issue of the evening until my mom opened her mouth.
“Charlee, how are you holding up?” my mother reached for the salmon platter and passed it to Cole. “When your father told me what happened, I couldn’t believe it! You’re always welcome to stay here. If I found a dead body, I don’t know if I’d ever be able to sleep soundly again.”
I really didn’t want to get into this right now. Not when I’d finally had a conversation with Cole that hadn’t ended in an argument. If this door was opened any wider, I could guarantee tensions would be riled, because the sheriff, hot as he was, had arrested my aunt, and still might be pressing charges. I might enjoy looking at him, but I wasn’t about to forget that.
“I’m fine, Mom, but thanks.” I took a drink of water.
“How’s Fern?” My mom really didn’t get it. “That’s got to be so troubling knowing that her neighbor was murdered on her property, and to be arrested!” Her hand fluttered to her chest. “How horrible!”
But really what I felt like she meant was how horrible for the Kings. Because nothing screams “scandal” like a dead body. “I mean, I don’t believe she killed Earl, but—”
“Mom, you do know that’s not why she was arrested?”
“What?” My mother’s manicured brows pinched together.
From the other end of the table, my dad cleared his throat. “Charlee.” He said my name in a tone that held a warning. Basically, he wanted me to shut up. But I wasn’t the one who’d started this. I frowned at my father and turned back to my mom, avoiding Cole’s heated gaze. I sensed he wanted me to drop the subject too.
“Fern had nothing to do with Earl’s death,” I stated plainly. “She was arrested because the police,” I glared at Cole, “found her still in the barn.”
My father’s fork clanked loudly as he let out an exasperated sigh.
“What are you talking about?” my mom asked, apparently still confused.
I looked up at the ceiling, wishing I would have kept my mouth shut. When I lowered my head, I met Cole’s furious glare. So much for that pleasant interaction we had earlier. I think he was back to hating me. “You know, Uncle Joe’s old still.”
She gave me a blank look.
“For making moonshine!” I blurted, frustrated.
My mother’s mouth gaped, as her hand fluttered to her chest again. I could practically read her thoughts. Oh, the horror. Another black mark on the King name. Thank goodness the election is over!
“No, I had no idea.” She glared across the table at my father, who picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of salmon, ignoring her. “I can’t believe she would do such a thing,” she gasped, appalled.
I rolled my eyes.
Cole coughed.
“It’s really not that big of deal,” I continued, figuring that any connection I’d forged with Cole had already been decimated at this point.
“Except that it’s a felony,” Cole finally spoke, challenging me with his eyes.
“Yeah, so I’ve been told,” I replied, not backing down. “But Fern doesn’t sell it, and it wasn’t hurting anyone. It’s a stupid law, and I wish you would let it go!”
“Charlee.” My dad used his warning tone again. “You need to let Cole do his job.”
I folded my arms across my chest defensively. I didn’t understand why they were taking his side. Well, I get why my mom was. She’d never been crazy about Fern, but my dad should have his sister’s back.
I reneged on what I’d thought earlier about this dinner being like an awkward first date. This was far worse than any date I’d ever been on. I didn’t have many to compare it to, but still, it really sucked.
“I’m sure the sheriff will do the right thing,” I said, directing my answer to Cole. He knew what I meant, and by the grim set of his mouth, I could tell he didn’t like it.
After that, my mom changed the subject. The rest of the meal was spent talking about my dad’s plans to make aesthetic improvements to the sidewalks and storefronts. My mom referred to it as the “Rockfish Bay beautification project.” She’d been appointed head of the beautification committee, and prattled on about an upcoming fundraiser she was working on.
By the time dessert was over, I was close to bolting for the front door. My stomach was still unsettled to the point that I didn’t even enjoy my cake. I still ate it, but now it sat like a rock in my stomach. I got up and began to clear the table, when the phone rang.
My mom went to answer it and called for my dad. When my dad made his excuses and left the table, I took that as my opportunity to leave. Cole stood as well as my mom reappeared.
“Thank you for dinner, Maggie,” Cole said to my mother. “It was great.”
I think the only thing Cole was thankful for was to be leaving.
“You’re very welcome,” my mom smiled. “Cole, would you mind helping Charlee carry this to her car?” She held out the cake platter.
I stifled a groan.
“Of course.” Cole offered a polite grin and accepted the dish.
I picked up the salad bowl. “Bye, Mom.” I wasn’t going to thank her for dinner. Not after that hour and a half of torture. She gave me another delicate embrace and whispered in my ear. “Be nice to him.”
Outside, Cole followed me to my SUV, waiting as I opened the door. “Charlee, about tonight—”
“I’m sorry,” I said, as I placed the salad bowl on the backseat and turned back to him.
He held out the cake plate. The exterior lights of the house lit the darkness enough I could see his mouth curve into a half smile. “Me too.”
I took the cake from him and put it on the seat. “This job’s not always easy,” he continued.
“I know.” I closed the door, removing the barrier between us.
His gaze searched mine, and I waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, I asked the one thing I knew I shouldn’t. “Are you going to pursue the charges against Fern?”
His eyes hardened, effectively answering my question.
“Charlee,” he sighed.
“Don’t.” I held up my hand to silence him, and he grabbed it, wrapping it in his. Shivers raced up my arm. My gaze shot to his, and he dropped my hand, taking a step back.
I swallowed. “What did Preston say to you after I left the other day? I didn’t think you were going to let Fern go.”
He cocked his head to the side. “He didn’t tell you?”
I shook my head.
“Apparently, Judge Wallace has a thing for Fern,” he paused. “And has allegedly appreciated her moonshine on occasion.”
My eyes widened. “Seriously?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess. And he is on the docket this week. Preston said I could keep Fern in jail overnight and get the judge on my bad side, or I could let it go.”
My hopes lifted. “You’re going to let it go?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you released Fern,” I argued, feeling defensive again.
“For now. There are other judges,” he said quietly.
I stomped my foot.
“Charlee, don’t be mad.” He took a step toward me.
I looked up at him. “I don’t want to be.”
He chuckled. “I admire your defense of Fern, but I’ve got to follow the law.”
“I know, but—”
His finger touched my mouth, silencing my protest, and erasing all the thou
ghts in my head. This man was dangerous.
“Fern’s going to be okay,” he said softly, leaning forward ever so slightly. “I promise.”
It was all I could do to manage a nod.
“Goodnight, Charlee.” Cole winked, and headed to his truck.
I blinked into the night air, trying to process what had just happened. Cole’s truck roared to life as he backed out of my parents’ driveway. I stood there for a minute, still mulling over his startling behavior.
Cole, the hottie sheriff, was flirting with me. And whether that was because he was actually interested or merely trying to get me to back off, I didn’t know.
What I did know was that until Fern’s name was cleared, I had a job to do. And no amount of feather-light caresses or seductive glances that turned my insides to mush were going to stop me.
At least until after I recovered from thinking Cole might kiss me. Because I had to admit, the hunky sheriff made me feel like I’d lost my head a bit.
Chapter Seven
After a restless night of sleep, I got up early and began to mix up some bread. Baking usually helped to clear my head, if I wasn’t sampling whatever I was making, that is. And since I thought bread dough was disgusting, it was the perfect thing to make. It also gave me the opportunity to punch something. That always helped me feel better. Halfway through kneading my second batch of artisan bread, Fern made an appearance, her fluffy cat trailing close behind.
“Good morning, Charlee,” my aunt yawned. “Goodness gracious.” She eyed the bread dough raising on the counter and the ball I was currently kneading. “How long have you been up?”
“A while.” I added some flour and punched the ball again.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Fern asked as she shuffled to the sink to fill up the tea kettle.
“Yeah.” I blew a strand of hair from my face that had come loose from my haphazard bun.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Fern tapped her feet, suddenly animated. “How was dinner? Your mother better not have said you looked puffy again.”
