Her Hometown Detective

by Elizabeth Mowers

  Didn’t her lips taste sweeter than warm honey collected in August, tasted and savored before it could be melted from the honeycomb? It had been impulsive of him. CeCe had warned that Faith was angling for him when all he had felt on Falcon’s Peak was a desire to angle for her.

  Then he’d taken her along to check on his dad. He’d never wanted to get married, still didn’t, but even in the few instances where the thought of marriage, still very vague and distant, crossed his mind, he knew he wouldn’t take his bride to see his father. Probably wouldn’t introduce them unless Walter agreed to go home and live among the people who cared for him and where he belonged.

  But he’d allowed Faith to persuade him. If he was honest, she hadn’t had to try very hard either. He’d deferred his better judgment given her promise she would help him, as if anybody could where his father was concerned. He’d agreed and, for the life of him, he couldn’t quite understand why.

  He recalled how assertively she’d led them back to the motorcycles, how she’d fired up the engine and had taken off in the direction of The Void. She hadn’t strong-armed him into it, because no one could strong-arm him to do anything he didn’t want. He was used to stepping forward and being a leader. He’d assumed that role ever since Samantha was a little girl. He had been her only consolation when his dad zoned out and his mother—

  Tully cringed recalling his father’s words. She’s looking for your mother.

  Something deep inside him began to ache after he recalled what his father had said. The only relief he’d finally found was when he fell asleep. It had been a fitful sleep, topped off with a phone call from the police station the next morning. He learned that the vandal had struck again. This time, just as CeCe Takes had predicted, the target had been Heart Motorcycles.

  * * *

  FAITH SAT ON the curb outside her shop, elbows on knees, head slumped on fists. Caroline swept the broken glass shattered across the sidewalk, but Faith was too distraught to work. She needed some time before picking herself up by her bootstraps and getting on with the cleanup. She didn’t want to appear to be wallowing in her own misery, but she knew that was exactly what she was doing. She gave herself permission to sit and wallow her heart out for one minute more. Then that would be the end of it.

  “It’s okay, Faith,” Caroline said, continuing the pep talk she’d begun as soon as she’d arrived and saw the damage. “Trig said he knows someone who might be able to repair the window tomorrow.”

  Faith thought it was unlikely. She wouldn’t be able to get anyone to repair it until after the holiday weekend and that was only after the insurance adjuster visited. She’d have to meet her deductible first and that would set her back—money she didn’t really have yet...

  “Good morning,” a cheerful voice said, making Faith climb to her feet. Dolores Mitchell stood with a basket of muffins in hand. “Betty and I had planned on bringing these over this morning to wish you luck. Now I see they’re to cheer you up.”

  “Betty?”

  “Betty Jenkins.”

  “Ah, yes. Grandma’s Basement,” Faith said. “We’ve met but I haven’t heard anyone refer to her by her first name yet.”

  “She chooses to be formal, a throwback to earlier generations where young whippersnappers referred to their elders as Mr. and Mrs.”

  “I’m hardly a whippersnapper.”

  “Compared to Betty and me, you sure are, but you know I prefer Dolores, right? Anyway, is there anything I can do for you? Betty said she’d be down in a little bit to check on you. Her air-conditioning unit went out and today will be so darn hot. Today is usually one of the most profitable days of the year... Well.” She caught herself and fumbled to correct as Faith’s face fell. “For most of us... Sorry, dear.”

  Dolores quickly offered a basket of muffins. Faith accepted it as a ceremonial way of letting her off the hook for her faux pas.

  “I think we’ll hit a heat record today,” Caroline said, leaning on her broom. “Ten o’clock isn’t early enough in the morning for this parade.”

  “Don’t I know it. I hope they have plenty of water and Popsicles on hand for the children walking in it. Anyhoo, I have to get back, but call me if you need something, Faith. Anything at all. Okay?”

  Faith watched Dolores walk back to her store, where she’d get a slew of customers later. She, on the other hand, would only be able to secure the front of her shop with flattened cardboard boxes and duct tape. If anyone wanted to get inside and steal her tools tonight, it would be as easy as picking up lint with masking tape.

  She shuffled through the front door and placed the muffin basket on the counter. She couldn’t eat. She surveyed her shop, determining what she would need to store at the house until the window was fixed. After repacking a few boxes she had unpacked only a few days earlier, she heard Caroline chatting with someone on the street. She peered through the open front window, the jagged glass shards around the edges framing her view. It was Rick Murdock. He had a passenger in his front seat, a man she didn’t recognize.

  “Sorry to hear about your misfortune, Faith,” Rick said as she joined them. “How are you holding up?”

  His words carried the message she’d expect to hear from a concerned neighbor, but his delivery was anything but sympathetic.

  “I’ll get through it,” she said, straightening. She hadn’t liked the way Rick had looked at her at The Gypsy Caravan. He’d glared in her direction more than a handful of times the night someone broke the window there. Now she imagined that he knew she was Ray Talbert’s daughter and his disposition had only darkened.

  “Do you have any idea who would do this?” The man in Rick’s passenger seat leaned forward to get a better view of her. She waited for him or Rick to make an introduction, but they didn’t. They weren’t here to get better acquainted, she thought. They were here to send some sort of message.

  She took a step closer to the car, standing shoulder to shoulder with Caroline.

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t still be standing here, would I?”

  Rick turned and muttered something to his passenger. Faith couldn’t be certain, but she thought she caught the words ain’t she a treat.

  “Hey, Heath, how’s Oliver these days?” Caroline asked, her tone the sharpest Faith had ever heard from her sweet cousin. The passenger, Heath, shifted in his seat.

  “Great. Thanks for asking.”

  “Staying out of trouble, I hope.”

  It was Rick who snapped, defensively.

  “Oliver’s a good boy. He’s been working hard all summer, even helping Gemma and me at the restaurant.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Caroline said, wrapping an arm around her cousin’s waist. “That’s what I love about our town, Heath. Everyone rallied around your family after Oliver got involved in something he shouldn’t have a couple summers back. That’s because it was the right thing to do. Everyone deserves a clean slate like that, don’t you think?”

  Faith had to force herself not to stare in amazement at Caroline. She hadn’t expected her cousin to grow so fierce in the years since she’d been gone, but kindhearted Caroline had just put someone in their place all for her.

  “Yes, everyone certainly does, Caroline,” Heath said. His demeanor had toughened in respect, the way some people did when they met a decorated hero.

  “They’ll catch the responsible party,” Faith said. “I have no doubt about that.” Though at the rate things were going, she wouldn’t hold her breath waiting.

  Once the two men had driven away, Caroline explained, “That was Heath Harrison. He and his wife divorced a while back, and he’s been carrying most of the responsibility of raising their son, Oliver.”

  “I take it he’s friends with Rick?”

  “They’re pretty close. Oliver got into some trouble a while back, and Heath came down on his son like a coal mine collapse. I think he fel
t a lot of embarrassment over the idea Oliver could behave so irresponsibly and wanted to make sure Oliver never did anything like that again. I think he’s a good kid who got caught up with the wrong company.”

  “Do you think Oliver could have done something like this?”

  “I really don’t.”

  “But the way you talked to Heath made it seem like—”

  “Heath is a good guy. So is Rick, Faith. Unfortunately, I think they’ve had their opinions of you tainted by outside parties.”

  “Yeah, and I know who did the tainting.”

  “Not just CeCe. You’ve been the subject of gossipy fodder since you arrived. Heath needed to be set straight and I think the message was received.”

  Faith hugged Caroline.

  “Look at you defending me.”

  “To hell and back.” She peeked over Faith’s shoulder as a truck pulled up to the curb and parked. “Here comes your Detective Be Good,” she whispered.

  Tully climbed out of his truck at a pace faster than Faith had ever seen him move. He was at her side in a blink. Dressed in long, casual shorts and a T-shirt that showcased his fine upper body, he looked more like Detective Looks Good.

  “Do you like what I’ve done with the place?” she asked, wafting a hand toward the broken glass.

  His stare was firm. “What time did you call it in to the station?”

  “Five o’clock this morning.”

  “Were you here that early?”

  “I did have a lot to do before the parade, but it looks like my morning freed up.”

  “Can you still open your shop today?”

  “I’ll do my best, but this was not the first impression I wanted to make for my grand opening.” Nothing about her arrival in Roseley had gone how she’d hoped. As she’d never get a second chance to make a good first impression, she and her shop were now batting zero for two.

  “Are you on the clock, Detective?” Caroline asked. He shook his head.

  “Just on call. I wanted to see if you were okay. I’m sure an officer will be here shortly to take your statement.”

  “Officer Randall already stopped by.” What Faith refrained from saying was that he had been as cold and short with her as he’d been during their encounter at The Gypsy Caravan. She didn’t want to complain about him. He and Tully were still colleagues.

  “Are you going to ride in the parade?”

  “Absolutely. My Sportster is already decorated.”

  “Do you need help with something?” He moseyed to inspect the window as Caroline winked at her and disappeared into the shop. If she could ask for anything from him right now, it would be a hug. She wanted the kind of hug you could lose yourself in, and he looked like he could give good ones.

  But they were not at the hug stage. He had kissed her for a few brief moments, but by the way he had pulled away, she knew a hug was outside the bounds of intimacy he was comfortable with. For now.

  “There is something,” she said. He turned; curiosity peaked on his brow. “People in this town not only think I’m capable of vandalizing these shops, but they think I vandalized my own.”

  “People? You mean CeCe?”

  “I’m sure CeCe is down at her sandwich shop rallying against me right now—”

  “Don’t assume. It doesn’t suit you.”

  She choked out a laugh but there was no humor. “I don’t need to assume. I only need to pay attention to how she’s been acting the last few days. And no, I’m not even talking about CeCe. A few guys came by before you got here and weren’t all that sympathetic.”

  “Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter who. What matters is what I’m going to do next to clear my name. I’m going on a stakeout to catch this guy and put an end to these break-ins once and for all. If you really want to help me, you’ll come too.”

  He laughed as if she’d said she was off to photograph the Loch Ness Monster.

  “You’re not serious? Yesterday I thought you were only—”

  “What? Kidding? Flirting?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.” His voice teased, but she would not be distracted.

  “John,” she said, moving so that the tips of their shoes nearly touched. “I’m not proud of a lot of things I’ve done in my past, but it’s the unfair blame that hurts me the most. I’ve wanted to move back here for years, but I was too scared of people not receiving me. Now that I’ve finally had the courage to show my face again—” She could feel the tears welling, hot and salty. She had to get through this, deliver her message as quickly as she could before her voice cracked and her face contorted in an ugly cry. “Without clearing my name, I won’t stay. I won’t subject myself to the daily ridicule. I don’t want to give up on my dream of making this place my home, but I refuse to live like that. I don’t know how many more fights I have in me before I pack it up and leave for good. Do you understand?”

  From his towering stance to the unreadable look of his eyes, she couldn’t tell if she’d moved his opinion about the stakeout in the right direction or not. As the seconds ticked by, expanding the distance between them just like The Void, quiet and vast, she figured she might have had better luck moving a mountain at its base.

  “Faith?” Caroline called from the back of the shop. “Do these boxes go back to the house?”

  She clenched her fists, all the fury she felt at her situation collecting at the fingertips digging into her palms. Fury at CeCe, at her father, at the sales she’d miss this morning because someone shattered her front window.

  “I’m going on that stakeout tonight whether you support it or not. I’m going to camp out on the roof of my shop because it’s something I can do to control my life. To fix this. I want you to join me because—” Her voice hitched, making her turn toward the shop. “If you show up, you show up.”

  She left him standing on the sidewalk. Her throat clenched, logic suppressing the next words her heart wanted to cry out. Please, John. Please show up for me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  TULLY HAD ATTENDED the parade, as he did every summer, but even the beating sun and melodious voices couldn’t distract him from thoughts of Faith. He returned smiles of passersby, of people in this town he had known his entire life. He downshifted into an emotional autopilot when faced with a crowd, presenting a professional decorum and an open attitude at all times. He thought of Faith and what sort of face she had to put on to show the world. She hadn’t received the welcoming people in Roseley usually extended to new neighbors. It weighed on him.

  The heart of Roseley was good; the people in it were good. They had their share of bad apples, but as he spotted Moody Ward, the grandfather of troubled teen Cody Ward, he reminded himself that even troubled cases could go in the right direction with encouragement.

  Cody had had a rough start. His father had skipped out on him and Cheyanne when Cody had been only three. Cheyanne had done her best by Cody, working two jobs outside Roseley to support him. The last few years his grandparents, Karen and Moody, did their best to provide a loving and disciplined home for Cody so Cheyanne could return to school to get an accounting degree. Unfortunately, they had become grandparents at an age when they should have been coasting into retirement and Cody’s teenage years had been particularly taxing. Moody, who’d retired as city manager but still stayed involved in local politics, carried the wear and tear of it all in his weathered face, more years on it than the calendar had ever recorded.

  “Moody,” Tully said, extending a hand. Moody adjusted the brim on his straw hat, which looked like it had seen as many summers as he had. He grasped Tully’s hand in a firm shake, then spoke.

  “I heard about the break-in at the new motorcycle shop. Was anything stolen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why not?” Moody’s tone was equal parts surprise and disapproval. Tully dipped hands into his
front pockets and flinched a look that read want to try again? Moody wiped a thumb over the rough stubble of his chin. “I mean Karen heard about it this morning. I’m curious about your leads. We can’t let something like that continue.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I was worried the Callahan brothers would change their minds about their store.”

  “Worried?”

  Moody clicked his tongue, a sad hum reverberating behind his teeth.

  “They could do a lot of good for this town, for businesses and such.”

  “They mentioned tax incentives they received.”

  “Yes. The town council didn’t want to possibly lose out on their business, so they’d agreed to pretty much everything.”

  “What’s everything?”

  “Well...” Moody turned and faced him. “The town had to agree to some unusual terms, like deeming Roseley imprecise.”

  “Imprecise?”

  “It’s an unusual word, ain’t it? I’m sure it was conjured up by their lawyers, a catchall for everything and anything. The basic gist is that they can back out of the store if Roseley isn’t as great as we presented it. The town has to buy their lot and store. Anyway, I stopped by to talk to them yesterday and fortunately, they sounded like they wanted to stick around in spite of the break-ins.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so friendly with them.”

  “Oh, you know how I am,” Moody said. “I still keep my ear to the ground on all matters in this town.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Sure. Roseley has been my home my entire life, same as you. It still needs tending, and I’m happy to help as long as I’m still kicking.”

  Moody managed a curt nod before Tully continued, “And how is Cheyanne doing these days? I haven’t seen her around in a while.”

  Moody’s posture slumped as if the thought of his daughter’s troubles weighed just as heavy on his shoulders as the reality weighed on hers.

  “Karen and I are worried about her. The long hours she works ain’t healthy for anybody. Then you add night school on top of that, it’s a wonder she can stay awake long enough to give Cody five minutes of attention. No fault of her own, mind you, but a shame all the same. Their connection should be stronger. Well...” He let a pause hang in the air. “You, more than anybody, know how hard that can be.”