by Liliana Hart
He knew exactly what it was like to go through a holiday when someone was forever gone from your life. He knew what it was like to look across a table at an empty chair and wonder why it was so hard to breathe, to wonder if it was worth going on.
Hank wondered where she was spending her Thanksgiving, and was just about to answer, when she changed the subject.
“I need some book help,” she said. “I have blank spaces in some of my cop action, and I need you to tell me how realistic it is or isn’t.”
“Sure,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”
Agatha talked through a couple of scenarios she’d written as scenes into her manuscript, and he was immediately caught up. She had a way of telling a story that drew him in like no one else. Because he’d read all of her work, he felt like he had a pretty good insight to her as well. The moments helped him ease the pain of separation from police work.
“Thanks,” she said. “This has been a lot of help. I think I can finish this up in the next couple of days.”
“Glad to help,” he said. “So, have you noticed anything different about me?” He didn’t know why he was asking. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment.
“Why?” she asked, then she looked him over. “Did you get a new shirt?”
He blew out a breath of exasperation. “No. I’ve been dieting and exercising.”
“I know, hot stuff. I’ve been seeing you out running. How come you don’t get up earlier and run with me? It’d be fun.”
No way in heck was he running with her. She ran every day. She didn’t get winded jogging around the block two times.
“Maybe our schedules will line up someday,” he said vaguely.
She leaned over and patted him on the hand. “I noticed, Hank. You look great, but if you feel like you gotta shape up for Rusk, then maybe she’s not the right one for you.”
“You think I shouldn’t do Thanksgiving with her?” he asked.
“I’m not saying that,” she said. “I’m just saying you look good to me.”
Chapter Two
Thursday
Hank rang the bell and waited nervously on the front porch of Dr. Anna Rusk’s home.
“Well, don’t you clean up nice?” she said, letting him in.
She was a lovely, accomplished woman, and they had a great deal in common, especially where they were from. Her black hair was cropped close to her head in a pixie cut, and her cheekbones were sharp. Her eyes were onyx, and her dark skin was smooth and unlined. She was closer to his age than Agatha. Not that it mattered, because he wasn’t interested in Agatha like that. He just couldn’t seem to get her out of his head.
“It’s great to see you,” he said, holding out the flowers he’d brought. He followed her inside and into the kitchen where she got a vase for the flowers.
“Wow, that fish hook really did a number on your lip,” she said, wincing as she looked at it. “That’s going to leave a scar.”
“It’ll just be one of many,” he said, and she looked at him oddly but didn’t ask him to clarify.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Only my pride. I hope you haven’t been cooking all day just for the two of us.”
“Just like a man to say something like that when it’s obvious I’ve done just that,” she said, clucking her tongue, “but I don’t mind. It’s so rare that I actually get to cook, I wanted to take advantage of my days off and make something spectacular.” She moved around the kitchen as naturally as the autopsy table.
“You mean you made Philly cheesesteak sandwiches?” he asked.
“Don’t I wish.”
“Oh, I miss Geno’s.” Hank’s eyes glazed over at the thought of their sandwiches.
“I was a Pat’s girl if you must know the truth.”
She said referring to the two infamous, competing cheesesteak restaurants located directly across the street from each other in Philadelphia. The rivalry is of legend in the City of Brotherly Love.
“I truly appreciate the effort. I’ve missed home so much over the last two years; that this is going to be a treat.”
Hank opened the bottle of wine Anna had handed to him, poured two half glasses, and gave her a glass.
“Thank you,” she said. “Did Agatha have plans for Thanksgiving?”
He wished she wouldn’t have brought Agatha up. He was having a hard enough time trying to stop thinking about what she was doing for the holiday. That look on her face when they’d been talking about family had really gotten to him.
“She said she was visiting some distant family.” What distant family did she have? Had she lied to him to make him not feel bad about her being alone? Was she alone? He hated the thought that she might be; that she might be working her way through the day. Or worse, she might be crying her way through the day.
“She also said she might spend a little time with this waitress we know from the diner.”
“Why would she spend time with a waitress?” Anna asked.
“Penny’s a nice girl. Her grandfather died last week unexpectedly, and she’s without family in the area. He was supposed to spend Thanksgiving with her.”
“That’s kind of her. Was the grandfather ill?” Anna asked, taking a dish from the oven.
“Apparently not. He was young and active. However, he had a massive heart attack and died while playing Santa Claus. Just goes to show any of us could go at any time.”
Anna looked at him and arched a brow. “You’re preaching to the choir on that one. Come on, let’s eat.”
He helped her get all the food to the table, and they sat down next to each other. Everything looked delicious. He could feel his waist size expanding, and he hadn’t even put a bite in his mouth.
They said grace and dug in. It wasn’t long into the meal when Anna stopped and cocked her head to the side like she did when she was thinking.
“You said he died playing Santa?”
It took him a second to reorient himself to the conversation. “Yeah. Agatha said he dropped dead right in front of the kids. Talk about trauma.”
“You know, it’s weird,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Dead Santa.”
“Okay, I’m not following.” Hank set his fork down.
“There was another old man who died while playing St. Nick. I think was at some store south of Fort Worth. Heart attack.”
“I guess it’s not safe to sit around all year, then expect to pop up and play an active character like Santa Claus. He’s eternal. These guys weren’t.”
Hank’s cell phone rattled around on the glass top table. He ignored it a couple of times, but the third attempt Anna asked, “You need to get that?”
He grabbed the phone and read Agatha’s message, asking when he was coming back to Rusty Gun.
“Everything okay?”
He was smart enough to know that it probably wasn’t a good idea to tell her it was Agatha, even if it was just about work. Women were weird like that, and he sensed Anna was a little threatened by Agatha. On the other hand, Agatha seemed to genuinely like Anna, so it was just weird all around.
“Everything’s good.”
“Do you have to go?”
“I do need to get on, but I want to help clear off the table and clean the kitchen. Everything was delicious.”
Anna looked like she wanted to say something, but a shutter seemed to come down over her face. He wondered if she had more intimate plans for them, and he’d misread things. He’d been a heck of a cop and could profile any criminal, but he’d always been lousy at reading women.
“Might as well get started,” she said, rather snippily.
It was completely dark outside by the time the last dish was dried and stashed away. He’d enjoyed being close to Anna while they worked together in the kitchen, and he was trying to decide whether or not he should kiss her. She’d been kind of frosty when they’d first started cleaning up, but she’d started flirting again by the time they were done.
; “I wish you didn’t have to rush off,” she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”
Hank picked up his car keys from the foyer table and she squeezed in behind him. He turned around and placed his left hand around her waist.
“I don’t want to ruin today, so can I just ask you something?” He pulled her a little closer, and she melted against him.
“Yes, you can kiss me good-bye,” she said. “Just don’t hurt your lip.”
He leaned in and their lips touched. It had been way too long, and he’d forgotten what it felt like to have a woman in his arms.
“Hank?” she asked, pulling back a little.
“Yes?”
“Are you kissing me with your eyes open?”
“Umm…yes?”
“Why?”
“I like to keep an eye on things,” he said. “You never know.”
She arched a brow and pursed her lips as she pulled out of his embrace. “Yeah, that’s a little weird.”
“Sorry. It’s a habit.”
“Uh huh. Well, good night,” she said, all but pushing him out the door. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
Chapter Three
Friday
“Looks like our boy struck out last night,” Coil said. “I saw his Beemer in the driveway before ten o’clock.”
“Shoot,” Agatha said. “I guess I owe you twenty. The way she was so gaga about him, I thought for sure she’d cook his goose.”
“Hank’s made of stern stuff.”
Agatha snorted out a laugh. “But he’s still a man.” She grabbed a twenty from her wallet, hid it beneath a napkin, and slid it across the table.
Coil grimaced.
The Kettle Café bustled with a different crowd the morning after Thanksgiving. The multigenerational gatherings of women looked like shoppers ready to attack Black Friday sales. Of course, service was slow because Penny had taken the day off.
“How was your Thanksgiving?” Coil asked her.
“Just another day,” she said, shrugging. “It’s no big deal.”
“You should’ve called. I took late patrol shift so the others could be with their families. You could’ve hung around with me. We like to do our Thanksgiving at lunch, so it wasn’t a big deal. Besides, I wanted to know whether Hank was coming home last night or not.”
“It’s tempting,” she said. “You might see me for Christmas, though crime in this county is kind of like watching paint dry.”
“That’s just how we like it,” Coil said. “but we had a little excitement yesterday. Got called out to a DB right here in town.”
“What?” Agatha asked. “How did I not hear about this?”
Coil shrugged. “It was nothing exciting. Just an elderly man from natural causes.”
“Still, I usually hear about these things,” then she grinned. “I don’t like being left out of the loop.”
“You mean you’re nosy,” Coil said.
She laughed. “It’s part of the job description.”
“Speak of the devil,” Coil said. “Look bored. Hank’s here.”
Hank walked into the café like every cop she’d ever met. His eyes were everywhere, and he was aware of everyone. She tried not to let her gaze linger. He was looking good. Real good.
“How was the big date?” Coil asked once he got to the table.
“It wasn’t a date,” he said. “She’s a friend who invited me over for supper. Don’t y’all have anything better to do than sit here at nine o’clock on a Friday morning gossiping about me?”
“No, not really,” Agatha said, trying to read him. Something had happened on the date, and he was upset about it. Not that he was likely to share. Hank kept pretty much everything close to the vest. “Have a seat, partner. It’s a holiday weekend, Hank. Learn to relax a little.”
“Yeah, relax,” Coil, said. “Maybe even retire.”
“I’ve gone that route and failed. I’m not the relaxing type.”
“You’re not the outdoors type either,” Agatha said. “I think your lip looks worse. Or maybe it got too much exercise yesterday.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Did Dr. Rusk kiss your booboo?” Coil asked.
“That’s a personal question,” Hank snapped.
Coil slid over, and Hank took the spot next to him, facing Agatha, and more importantly, the door.
Hank looked up at Agatha. “How much he bet on me?”
Agatha’s lips twitched; glad to see some of Hank’s good humor return. She reached across the table and flipped the napkin over to reveal the twenty-dollar bill.
“Sellout,” Coil said.
Hank held out his hand, and Coil slapped the twenty into it. “I saw you passing back and forth in front of my house. It’s why I left the sedan in the driveway, instead of the garage.”
“That’s just mean,” Coil said, and Agatha snickered.
“Heard you had a death yesterday,” Hank said. “Natural?”
“Dang it. How’d he know, too?” Agatha asked.
“Yep. He bit it over at the Glamour Shots Studio.”
Agatha sighed. “I still can’t believe we’ve got a Glamour Shots in Rusty Gun. You’d think we were stuck in 1989.”
“Why weren’t they closed? Doesn’t it seem weird an old man was there on Thanksgiving Day?”
“Nah,” Coil said. “The local church sponsors the photo shoot every year for needy kids. They get a chance to have their picture with Santa and walk out with a meal basket for their family to celebrate Thanksgiving. It’s a great program.”
Hank whistled low, getting Agatha’s attention. “This must be a bad time of year to be a Santa. There was Penny’s grandfather last week, and last night Anna said there was an older man who died while in costume. Now there’s this guy. That’s three Santas who’ve kicked the bucket with their boots on in less than a week.”
“That is weird, but probably just a combination of their age, being overweight, heat of the costume, and the stress of kids climbing on and off of them,” Agatha said.
“I don’t know,” Hank said, shaking his head. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“You think we have a serial killer?” Coil asked.
“I think it’s worth taking a closer look for sure. As of now, the deaths are in three different jurisdictions. It’d be hard to piece something like that together unless by chance.”
“This is nuts,” Agatha said, shaking her head. “A Santa serial killer.”
“Ohmigoodness,” the part-time waitress said, as she came up to refill their drinks. It was obvious she’d overheard the last part of the conversation. “Penny’s granddaddy was murdered by a serial killer?”
“No, ma’am,” Coil said, putting her at ease. “Agatha here was just talking about one of her books. Nothing to worry about.”
The waitress looked halfway convinced, but Agatha knew it was too late. She had one of the biggest mouths in Rusty Gun. It didn’t matter if it was true or not. By the end of her shift, everyone in town would know about the Santa serial killer. She went back to the kitchen without refilling their drinks.
“Lord, everyone in town is going to know about this,” Agatha said.
“We don’t even know if there’s anything to know,” Coil said. “It might truly be a coincidence. Just in case it’s not, maybe the two of you need to do a little digging.”
Hank’s dark eyes brightened.
“You mean we’re back on duty?”
Chapter Four
Saturday
Hank stood at the edge of his front sidewalk, trying to decide which direction he was going to run. They all seemed horrible, so he figured he’d go in the opposite direction of the day before just to keep things interesting.
“Mind if I join you?”
He looked to his right, and to his surprise, there was Agatha in her running gear. She should have long since been back from her normal run.
“What are you doing out so late?” he asked ac
cusingly. “You’re normally done with your run by now.”
“I thought you might like some company. Sometimes we all need a little motivation. Myself included. I haven’t run since the day before Thanksgiving. That’s two days of slothfulness. And let’s face it, I’m thirty-two years old and sit on my butt to make a living. I can’t afford too many days of sloth.”
Hank stared at her in disbelief. “You’re thirty-seven, Aggie.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Blasphemy.”
“If by blasphemy you mean truth, then yes, it is blasphemy.”
She grinned. “Fine, have it your way. I’m thirty-seven. I guess that means you do listen when I tell you things about myself.”
“I hear all, see all,” he said. “Never forget it.”
A car horn beeped from behind them, and they both startled in surprise. Hank had been enjoying their banter so much that he’d stopped paying attention to their surroundings. That was dangerous for everyone.
Heather Cartwright’s red Mercedes convertible pulled up beside them.
“Good morning, lovers,” she called out the window. It was too cool to have the top down. “I’m proud of you, Agatha, but don’t worry; it’s a short walk of shame back to your place. That’s the good thing about living so close.”
“Shut up, Heather,” Agatha said good-naturedly. Heather ignored her and turned her attention to Hank.
“Look at you, Hammerin’ Hank,” she said, winking. “You’ve gotten into shape. No wonder Agatha can’t keep her hands off you.”
“Good to see you, Heather,” Hank said. He knew it was ridiculous, but at least she’d noticed he’d been working out.
“Yes, good to see you, Heather,” Agatha repeated. “Now go away.”
“I’d expect you to be in a much better mood after a night of Hammerin’ Hank’s hammerin’.” She found that hilarious and laughed at her joke. “You see what I did there? Seriously, maybe if you could release yourself from your Kama Sutra party you could give your best friend a call every once in a while or bring her a pitcher of margaritas.”
