by Jill Behe
“Yes.” I agreed. “He certainly is.”
“But he’s all the other things that make a good man, too. He’s all of them, all rolled together.”
“I know.”
She patted my cheek. “You did good, Magdalena.”
Dad took Wyatt’s arm and shook his hand. “Proud to call you son.”
“I appreciate that.”
My eldest, too, gripped Wyatt’s hand and shook it. “Couldn’t have asked for a better man to call ‘Dad.’ No disrespect to my real dad, but he’s been gone almost.… Well, a long time. I don’t think he’d be upset about it.”
Oh, be still my heart. He’d grown up so well.
“Don’t count me out, either. I’m glad you make Mom happy. I can see it. Not that she wasn’t before, but you make her light up. I’m looking forward to being around you a lot more often. Welcome to the family.”
Ah, Dawson, bless you. So diplomatic.
A son on each side, a kiss on each cheek. “Thanks, you two.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Mom.” Gage gave a laugh. “If we didn’t like him, we’d’ve let you know.”
“I know you would, kid.”
“Grams is right. You did good.”
Wyatt’s fingers linked with mine. “Good to know.”
I smiled. “I had no doubts.”
A squeeze. “Okay. I hate to break this up, but I need to do one more thing.”
My head tilted and I looked at him, questioning.
The room got quiet.
He held out the ring. “I need your hand, Magdalena. The left one.”
Happy tears fell as I complied. He slid that gorgeous diamond on my finger, then kissed my hand.
Mom wiped at her eyes. “If you don’t quit soon, I’m going to flood this room.”
“Before you do that, Maggie and I have a movie we think y’all will enjoy. So, let’s get supper cleared away, shall we?”
“Oh how nice.” She sniffed up the tears. “Cameron, isn’t that nice of them?”
My father, smirking smugly, nudged her towards the kitchen. “Come on, Olivia, let’s get the dishes done.”
I started collecting plates. “I have a dishwasher, you know.”
Dawson was on the other side of the table. “Of course she does. Gage and I chipped in and bought her one a couple years ago.”
“Installed it for her, too.” His brother laughed. “Was our best idea, so far.”
My mother elbowed my father. “Kids today. They have no concept of romance.”
CHAPTER 32
THURSDAY MORNING
RICK WAS at the coffee pot, listening with a grin as I related the evening’s events. He had dutifully made a big fuss over my new sparkly accessory, but noted that Lancy would appreciate it more than he did. “So what movie did you guys watch?”
“An old black and white classic, Abbott and Costello’s The Time of Their Lives. I love that flick. I laugh so hard I cry, every time.”
“I’ve heard of those guys. Mom and dad have a couple of their movies, I think.”
“Yeah? You should watch one sometime.”
“I should.” He took a sip. “Maybe I’ll have Lancy over one night and just watch old black and whites.”
“I think she’d really enjoy that. And don’t forget the popcorn.”
“Yeah. Something different.”
“Let me know how it goes.”
“Sure.” He went to his desk. “Anything going on today?”
“Pretty quiet, so far. Keep your fingers crossed. With all the nasty weather going on this morning, there’s bound to be a wreck or two.”
* * *
JUST AFTER LUNCH, we were congregated around Wyatt’s conference table when the front door banged open, then shut with force.
“Hell-o! Anybody home?”
“Back here.”
A few seconds later, Cletus poked his head around the door. “Ah good. You’re all here.”
“Hey, Cletus.”
“Chief.” He nodded. “Officer Anderson. Miss Maggie.”
I stood, turned my chair around, and pointed. “Have a seat.”
“No thanks. I gotta git home. Redbone’s got an appointment. After you reminded me about never seein’ any o’ his clones around, thought I’d get a test done. But, just before I left work, Brick called in again. Not sure why he called me, but figured, since I was coming by this way, I’d just stop in to give y’all a heads up, in person.”
Ricky grinned. “He stuck in a snow bank this time?”
“Nah, but just about. Says he almost slid into a car already in a ditch, near where Skunk Hollow connects with 19 North. Abandoned, looks like. Found it on the way out. Says he didn’t notice it with all the fog and sleet goin on ’til it was almost too late.
“Took the liberty of calling Dodge—hope y’all don’t mind. Told him I was stopping in here, and he said he’d be by in a few minutes.”
“Don’t mind at all, Cletus. Thanks.”
We heard boots stomping outside the front door, and then….
“Yo! Dodge is in the house!”
Wyatt laughed. “Come on back, dude.”
“Well, then,” Moving towards the door, Cletus pulled on his stocking cap and gloves. “I’ll head on out.”
“Thanks again. Appreciate your dropping in.”
“Anytime.”
As they passed in the outer office, the two men exchanged greetings.
Dodge sauntered in slapping his gloves against his thigh. “So, where’s’is car stuck at?”
Ricky gestured in the direction Cletus had gone. “Brick told him it’s pointed north somewhere on 19.”
The mechanic looked at Wyatt. “That’s a lotta road. He happen t’mention what part?”
“Nope.”
“Can’t be too far out.” Ricky settled back in his chair. “Brick’s mail route’s not that long.”
“Description of the car?”
“Nope.”
Dodge scratched his head. “Guess it don’t matter much what it looks like. Just curious as to whether it’s a local, or not. Abandoned, huh? Hope the driver didn’t try to hitch out, or walk.”
“You and me both. Guess we won’t be going out to the lake again today, Rick. How ’bout you follow Dodge out yonder? See if there’s anything that could give us a clue about whose car it is, or what happened.”
“Will do, boss.” He got to his feet. “Brick still datin’ that gal from Jasper?”
Dodge moved a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Haven’t heard otherwise.”
“You seen her?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Homely thing.”
“Zat so? You know what they say about beauty?” Dodge grinned. “Can’t all be good lookin’ like my Betsy, or Miss Maggie, here.”
“Amen.”
I smiled at Wyatt and poked Dodge in the belly. “You’re such a sweet-talker.”
They both laughed.
“Careful there, darlin’, you might chip that fine piece o’ glass you’re wearing.”
This time I punched his arm.
He winked at Wyatt and gave him a thumbs up. “Don’t let Betsy see that thing, she’ll want an upgrade.”
I sniggered.
Rick’s head wagged—his version of an eye-roll. “Let’s go.”
I waved them out, but was mentally chewing on another missing piece of puzzle. “Wonder whose car it is.”
“No one’s called in to report one missing, or stuck.” Wyatt propped his feet on the desk and leaned back. “Dodge’s familiar with just about every vehicle in this town, and their drivers. We’ll find out soon enough.”
“Wyatt?”
“Yeah?”
“Just a wild thought.”
“Shoot.”
“Sybil’s the only one we know of who’s missing. Suppose it could be hers?”
“We don’t know that she had one.” He shifted in his chair. “If it is, though, why didn’t she get a ride from
the guy she took off with? Unless she didn’t trust him enough to get in a car with him.”
“Interesting theory. Still, it could be his.”
“Could.”
My left hip leaned against the front of his desk. “Told you it was a wild thought.”
“Not wild. Speculative. Good stuff. Just raises more questions.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. More questions. This whole thing is weird.”
“It is that.”
I moved to the doorway. “I’ve got some reports to type.” Actually, I planned to do some Internet research and see what I could pull up, if anything, on our visitors.
Wyatt nodded.
“Open or shut?”
“Open’s fine.” He grinned. “That way I can yell for more coffee and not have to get up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Slave driver.”
“Just you wait, woman.”
“Oh, please.”
It was time to mull, and there weren’t any minutes to spare. Sybil’s life could be on the line.
Okay, so, Wyatt and Rick weren’t going out to the lake today.
Too bad.
The peace and quiet would have been welcome.
Then again….
The base radio crackled.
“Dispatch? We’re gonna need some help out here.”
My heart skipped and my breath caught.
CHAPTER 33
MORE CLUES
NOT AGAIN.
Rick’d said almost those same exact words this past summer when he’d come upon one of our teenagers hanging over the swimming hole.
Hurrying over, I yelled for Wyatt.
He was beside me in an instant.
“Dispatch here. Rick? What’d’ya need?”
“A camera, for one. Can’t say for sure it’s not a crime scene, but I don’t want to take a chance on towing this thing, and then find out we mutilated evidence.”
“Gotcha.”
It wasn’t another body.
Oh, thank God.
While Ricky was explaining, Wyatt went to his office and came back out with his rig, camera, and hat. Buttoning his coat with one hand, he motioned for the mic with the other.
“How far out?”
“Two miles, thereabouts. Just this side of Grover’s Bridge.”
“There in 10.”
“Roger that, boss. Out.”
Wyatt glanced over. My face must’ve had an anxious look, because he walked over to hug me. “It’s not the same as before, Maggie.”
“I, I know that, it’s just…. I don’t know how it could be, but still….”
He kissed my forehead. “Hold down the fort.”
Again, the forehead.
I nodded.
He let go, and went out into the frigidness.
The day was gloomy. Dark gray clouds had been spitting wet ice at everything since before dawn. I hoped they were able to get shots of what they needed in the limited light source.
With the sun hidden most of the day, and sunset coming on so early, daylight diminished at a fast rate.
And the sleet was turning to snow.
Sometimes my imagination gets carried away.
You just hush.
Rick may not have found a body in the car, but I was envisioning a blood-soaked trunk and muddy shovel, the contents of Sybil’s purse strewn over the front seat, and a damp rag smelling of chloroform on the floor of the back.
I paced, knowing it was pointless to even speculate about what they’d found, but doing it anyway. The two of them would be back soon and my curiosity would be abated.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
After 45-minutes of busy work, I made a fresh pot of coffee. The hot beverage would help warm them. In these temperatures, they’d be frozen popsicles by the time they got back.
I should have anticipated that and arranged for Annetta to bring by big bowls of potato soup.
An hour later it was full dark. I heard the chief’s Suburban, and the patrol car, pull into the lot.
Faces chapped red, frozen eyebrows frosted white, lips almost blue from exposure, they stomped snow-covered boots, and grumbled about the wet, the cold, the friggin’ fog, and the pelting ice.
Wyatt was rubbing his hands together. “You okay, Maggie?”
I frowned. “Besides worrying about the two of you out in the elements all this time, and wondering what y’all’d found, why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“No phone calls?”
Shoot. I’d forgotten all about that. “None.”
“Good.”
“I made fresh coffee.”
“Hallelujah!”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“I should have had soup waiting.”
“Java’s good.”
Ricky flexed his hands. “My fingers were so cold I could barely keep the camera steady, or push the button. Hope those photos come out okay.”
“I’m sure they’re fine, Rick. Go fill up and we’ll meet in the office.” Wyatt headed in my direction, shrugging out of his big coat. “Got any lotion? My hands are seriously dry. Hurts to bend them.”
“Yeah.” Ricky turned, his mug full and steaming. “Mine, too.”
I pointed to the supersized pump container of ultra-moisturizing lotion on the corner of my desk. “Help yourself.”
“On the ball, as usual. Thanks.”
“Winter isn’t nice to my hands, either. I need the heavy duty stuff to keep the skin from cracking.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. My dad’s are the same way.”
After they coffee-d up and lathered on the lotion, we filed into Wyatt’s office.
I took a sip from my mug. “Okay you two, fill me in.”
Ricky led off. “Well, as requested, I followed Dodge out and we spotted the car. Almost missed it, though.” Used his hands for extra emphasis. “Tail in the air, it was head first over the embankment. Road’s pretty slick there. Driver probably just lost control and slid right on over.”
He took a swallow of coffee. “We checked out the interior, first. Peeking in the windows. It was empty, of course. A relief, actually. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing another body. Anyway, there was something on the passenger side floor, but I couldn’t make it out. Keys were dangling in the ignition.
“I figured we’d better get some stills, just in case. That’s when I called in. Since I was wearing gloves, I didn’t have to worry about smearing any prints, so I tried the door. It was unlocked. I grabbed the keys and opened the trunk. Found a suitcase, and a pillow, of all things. Case didn’t have much in it. Couple local maps, a copy of yesterday’s Gazette, four pencils, and four wife-beater t-shirts.”
“Odd.”
Wyatt agreed.
“Any footprints had been drifted over, so we couldn’t tell how many there’d been, or which direction they’d been pointed, but it didn’t look like there’d been a struggle of any kind. Once Wyatt got there with the camera, I photographed everything. Unfortunately, I couldn’t work it with my gloves on.
“There was a computer case on the passenger side floor, without the computer. Actually, pretty much empty. No ID or documents, just an unused notebook, a voice-activated tape recorder—with nothing recorded—and some paperclips.”
I slumped back in my chair.
Bummer.
“Dodge didn’t recognize the vehicle?”
Rick shook his head. “Rental plates.”
Crud.
It was something, but not much. Not enough. “Except for calling the car rental office to find out who rented it, I’d say it was a dead-end. Those things you found could belong to anyone. Bruce said Sybil was a reporter, but we have no proof of that.”
“Won’t be necessary, the rental agreement papers were in the glove compartment. It was leased to Sybil Tolliver.”
“Why didn’t you say so? I should still call the rental company and let them know we found it.”
“Good idea.”
“Even
if it is her car, I don’t think the wife-beaters belong to her.”
I nodded, wrinkling my nose. “Stranger things have happened, but I agree. So where is it now?”
“Dodge towed it back to his place. We left everything in it. Rick and I will be going over it tomorrow, in the daylight and relative warmth of the garage, once the county forensic guy shows up.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
We all retreated to our respective desks.
Half an hour later, I knocked on Wyatt’s door, leaning against the jam. “I ran out of things to do. What say we call it a day?”
“Hmm. I agree. Hey, how about soup at Annetta’s?”
Ricky’s ears perked up from across the room. “Great idea.” He moaned, patting his belly. “I’m starving. Missed lunch.”
“We all did, come to think of it.”
“I’m buying.”
Rick joined me in the doorway, slowly shaking his head. “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. We talked about this the other night, remember? As long as you’re with me, or Wyatt, you’re not allowed to pay.”
“But—”
“Over-ruled.” “He’s right. Wouldn’t be seemly.”
Hands on hips, I frowned at Wyatt. “Have you been talking to Jonas Talbot?”
“No.” He grabbed his hat and went past me. “Why?”
I followed. “Nothing. Never mind.”
Ricky got up. “What’s the soup of the day today?”
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it’ll be awesome.”
“My mouth is watering. Let me grab my coat.”
CHAPTER 34
FRIDAY
SOUP AT ANNETTA’S—no matter the flavor—rivals any I’ve eaten anywhere else. That includes my mom’s, and she’s an excellent cook. I say I got my skills from watching her during my impressionable teenage years. As I found out the other night, she thinks she had a hand in teaching me.
Annetta’s son Wally is the genius in the diner’s kitchen. You’ve heard me talk about how good his food is before, but his greatest achievements, by far, are the soups.
Couple years ago, after going to cooking school, and spending some time at different restaurants, he came home with a degree in Culinary Arts, and put all his experience and experiments on the line, to the great delight of everyone who ever sat down in Annetta’s.
