“What are you doing?” The older woman was wearing an old football jersey of Bear’s that Eddie kept hanging in his closet. It hung down to the middle of her thighs, and the high school mascot on the front was only partially concealed by Ricki’s bathrobe. The terry-cloth belt was knotted around Marcie’s waist, and the sides reached halfway across each breast with the hemline dragging along the floor.
She looked both commanding and ridiculous, standing in her bare feet with her hands on her hips. “You need more sleep.” Then she sighed and crossed over to the kitchen as she answered her own command. “But I know you won’t bother with that. Did you eat your dinner last night? We left it for you in the fridge.”
Since she hadn’t even opened the refrigerator before falling facedown on the couch the night before, Ricki shook her head. “No, sorry. And you need more sleep too. You should go back to bed.”
“Not happening.” Marcie tugged on the refrigerator door and bent at the waist, pulling out a small platter of food. She marched over and set it firmly down, just beyond the arc of clothes, change, and other paraphernalia that was scattered across the countertop. She removed the wrap plastered over the top of the food, then stepped back with an expectant look in her gaze.
Ricki eyed the oversized plate. “How many people were you expecting to come back here last night?”
“I was hoping for two.” Marcie glanced over at the couch. “But I can see that didn’t happen. Besides, your son said you’d eat more if you had a variety to pick from, and since he went to the trouble to cut up those vegetables and made those little sandwiches for you, you need to eat some of it. You don’t want to hurt his feelings.” She turned back around. “And if you do that, I’ll make a pot of coffee, otherwise you’ll have to drink your own tar, or go without.”
Ricki had thought she could put off munching on a veggie before eight in the morning since it was unlikely her teenage son would roll out of bed anytime soon, but Marcie’s promise of a decent cup of coffee had her reaching out and popping a piece of cauliflower into her mouth. She picked up a sandwich, took a bite, and then chewed thoughtfully as she watched Marcie fill the coffeepot with water.
Despite the unusual fare for that hour of the morning, Ricki’s stomach welcomed the food. The jitters that went hand in hand with hunger dissipated like fog penetrated by sunlight, letting the nervous energy that had jolted her awake finally settle down. She took another bite of lunch meat, lettuce, and bread, and chewed and swallowed before putting the sandwich down. “I need to ask you a favor.”
From her position at the stove, Marcie waved a hand back and forth. “Shoot.”
“Can you stay here and keep Eddie company for the next few days?” Ricki pushed a long lock of stray hair away from her face, tucking it behind one ear. “These are my days, and I’d like him to be home where he has his garage and can work on his bot. Stuff he can do that will keep him distracted from what happened last night. He’ll need that, but I’ll be in and out, and I don’t want to leave him alone.” She paused. “And I have an even bigger ask. It would be great if Anson and Nate could come and work on the bot with him.”
Ricki’s nose wrinkled when Marcie slowly turned her head and looked back over her shoulder. She knew it wasn’t just a big ask to ride herd over three teenage boys—it was a gigantic one. Especially since it would include a grocery run because there was no way she had enough food around to feed that many growing boys, who came with appetites that were constantly starving.
Marcie's mouth curved into a smile with more than a hint of smugness in it. “I’ve been a mom most of my life, honey. So I know the drill.” She reached over and started to pull down coffee mugs. “We have you covered.”
“We?” Ricki’s eyebrows shot up. “Who’s ‘we’?” She frowned when Marcie started to hum as she kept taking coffee mugs out of the cupboard. “Expecting someone?”
She had her answer when Corby lifted his head away from the bowl he’d been thoroughly licking and trotted over to the front door. A second later she heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel. From her place at the counter, she didn’t have the right angle on the front window to see who was coming. But since Corby was on alert, but not barking, he clearly recognized the noise as friendly.
There was the slam of a car door, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps and then a quick rap against wood before the front door swung open. Her uncle Cy stepped over the threshold, then kicked the door closed with one foot since his arms were loaded down with bags of groceries.
He winked at Ricki before looking over at Marcie. “Got everything on the list, and added a little extra that I think the boys and I would enjoy.”
“I assume that’s some kind of code for ‘nothing healthy’.” Marcie walked past an astonished Ricki, whose feet had become stuck to the floor, and took one of the bags from Cy. “You’ll have to bring them over here since Ricki has confiscated most of the space on the island.” She walked over to the much shorter counter next to the stove. Marcie set the bag down and started to poke through it, raising her voice without lifting her head. “And she needs to eat more before she gets a cup of coffee.”
Since it was useless to argue with a crazy person in full mom mode, Ricki grabbed a carrot, took a bite, and then pointed it at her uncle. “What are you doing here?”
“I already told her we’ve worked it all out,” Marcie said.
Cy nodded his agreement as he set the rest of the bags down on the floor next to Marcie, then turned and faced his niece. He stuck his thumbs under his belt and smiled. “Marcie and I are going to take turns staying with Eddie.”
Marcie waved a hand at Cy. “He’s going to keep an eye on the boys, because we already figured out working on that robot would be the best thing for all of them. And I’m going to do the cooking.”
Her uncle cocked his head to the side. “It’s a small town, Ricki. What happened last night will affect everyone, especially after word gets out that Anchorman was hurt.”
“Which I’m sure is already making the rounds.” Marcie’s muffled voice floated out from the inside of the grocery bag she was digging through. “Eddie spent time madly texting on his phone in between cutting up vegetables.”
Cy rolled his eyes, but his voice was low and calm. “Exactly. I have a duffel out in the truck, so I’ll be bunking on the couch for a few nights.” He gave her a bland stare. “Or as long as necessary. I’ve already put in for the time off.”
Ricki was floored, not really surprised by their joint offer of help, but overwhelmed with gratitude that it was given without any hesitation. There was nothing like family, friends, and the closeness of a small town. Still, there was someone else who had a say in where her son spent his time. “Bear might have an opinion on all of this.”
“Opinions are good,” Cy said, then shrugged. “I’ll take it into consideration if he expresses any.”
Ricki smiled. Her uncle sounded exactly like her father used to. “He’s Eddie’s father, Uncle Cy.”
Her uncle’s shoulders lifted in another shrug. “And I’m his uncle. I want to take Eddie out to visit his grandmother. I know you haven’t had much time in the last few weeks, and Eddie needs to do that.” His mouth formed into a wry smile. “I’m sure Bear won’t want to intrude and come along.”
Not in this lifetime, Ricki thought. Her ex had a lot of good qualities, as well as some she wasn’t so fond of. His refusal to deal with anyone’s disability, like her mom’s Alzheimer’s, fell into the latter category. So no, he wouldn’t make the trip to spend time in a nursing home with his former mother-in-law. Even though he’d known her most of his life.
Corby, who had settled back into his spot under the window, jumped up and once again trotted over to the front door. Thinking her little home was becoming more like a parade ground, Ricki didn’t have to wait long before the door popped open again as Corby stood in front of it, his tail wagging frantically.
Clay gave the dog a good scratch under the chin before lookin
g up and smiling at Ricki. “Morning. I hear there’s a decent cup of coffee to be had here.”
“You heard right.” Marcie walked over with two large steaming mugs in her hands. She set one down in front of Ricki and held the other one out to Clay. “Here, you take this, and I’ll get two more for Cy and myself while you and Ricki talk shop.”
The chief took the mug with a grateful smile and walked around Ricki to perch on one of the tall stools. “How much sleep did you get?”
“A couple of hours. How about you?” Ricki picked up the mug and took a long sip before sighing in appreciation.
“The same,” Clay replied. He gestured toward Anchorman’s belongings splayed across the counter. “Find anything interesting?”
Ricki set her mug down and studied the jumbled pile. “Haven’t been through it yet.”
“Looking for something in particular?” Clay asked, his gaze narrowing when she pushed aside a T-shirt and then a pair of jeans and reached for the thick leather belt.
She straightened the long strip of black leather out along the counter, smoothing it down with the fingertips of her good hand. She stopped at the D-link clamp attached to the belt, her gut tightening at the sight of smooth, curved metal, a firm clasp, and nothing else.
Clay’s back went rigid as he stepped off the stool, staring at the empty D-link. “Is that where Anchorman kept his keys?” When Ricki silently nodded, the look in his eyes went fierce. “All of them?”
“Yeah,” she said, her hand still resting on the belt. “All of them.” She raised her gaze to his face. “To his place, his car, and the diner.” She kept her eyes on his as she called out to the woman standing next to Cy, sipping a cup of coffee.
“Marcie, did you and Sam get into Anchorman’s place last night?”
“Yes. We did,” Marcie said. “Why?”
“Was anything missing?”
“Not that I could tell,” Marcie said slowly.
“How about his car? Was it still parked out front?”
“Yes.” Marcie’s grip tightened on her cup, turning her knuckles white. “Why? What’s the matter?”
“So, his place and car weren’t touched.” Clay’s voice was flat and his expression hard.
Ricki’s gaze narrowed in silent agreement with what she saw on his face. “No. But the diner caught on fire.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Roger said he’d be here around ten.” Clay glanced at his watch. “That’s in half an hour or so.”
Ricki nodded. “Okay. Good.” She took out her key to the Sunny Side Up’s front door just in case she needed to use it, but she doubted the firemen had locked it behind them. If anyone was interested in looting, they wouldn’t have had any trouble getting in. The back of the diner was completely open, with the door and long rectangular window missing. The part of the wooden wall that was still standing was completely charred, and everything beyond it in the kitchen reduced to either ash or useless hunks of metal. Since Clay had already warned her that nothing in the kitchen, or the front counter just beyond it, could be saved, she was already bracing herself for the emotional hit as she reached for the doorknob.
“Maybe we should wait until Roger gets here,” Clay suggested.
“No need,” Ricki said over her shoulder. While she was grateful that Clay had reached out to an arson investigator he’d met in Olympia to come and verify what she and the chief already suspected, this was still her place, and she needed to see the damage for herself.
Pushing the door open, she paused for a moment as the smell of smoke and burnt wood rolled out into the open air. Pulling out the bandanna she’d stuffed into the back pocket of her jeans before she’d left home, Ricky tied it around her face, covering her nose and mouth. It wouldn’t keep all the smell out, but enough to let her walk around and make her own damage assessment.
When she stepped out of the sunlight into the dark interior, she entered a surreal world of long black fingers of charred wood, crawling along the ceiling and walls, leading to a cavern of darkness that was eerily backlit by the indirect light coming in through parts of the missing kitchen wall.
“Walk carefully,” Clay warned. “I don’t know how safe any of this is.” He looked up. “The ceiling might come down at any moment.”
Ricki barely acknowledged his concern with a quick jerk of her head as she slowly moved forward, the moisture gathering in her eyes not entirely due to the small whiffs of lingering smoke in the air. She’d worked so hard, put so much time and effort into the little diner to make a go of it.
Now the back counter was twisted and charred, the coffee machine and the line of pots were all smashed into pieces on the floor. And beyond it, the kitchen had simply disintegrated into an unrecognizable mass of charred wood and seared metal. Even in the main dining room, the pictures on the walls were covered in soot, and she was wading through a sea of black ash.
A strange, muffled groan came from over their heads as the roof made its wounds known. Clay immediately grabbed Ricki’s arm and tugged backwards. “Okay. That’s it. We’re out of here.”
She resisted for a moment. Leaving seemed like giving up, but when a second, louder groan followed the first, common sense won out, and she retreated through the front door until she was again standing on the sidewalk. She pulled off her bandanna and slowly stuffed it back into the rear pocket of her jeans, then stood straight as a board, her hands clenched at her sides.
“What do you think?” Clay asked, his voice close to her ear.
Taking a deep breath, and then another, Ricki finally shrugged. “That I should take my gun out and put the Sunny Side Up out of its misery.” She heard him sigh, felt the weight of it.
“Yeah.”
They stood together for long minutes, not saying anything. Ricki closed her eyes and could see her son, sitting at the counter, eating a burger and reading a book, while Marcie flew around the room, pouring out coffee and taking orders. Sam was there too, standing at the front hostess station, and then at the grill while Anchorman watched his every move with a critical eye.
Anchorman. Ricki fought back the tears. He needed her now. As far as she knew, his diner family was all he had, and she couldn’t let him down.
The sound of a truck with a large engine rolled down the street. Ricki turned around just as a big red Ford pulled up next to the curb. A short man with a bald head and long mustache hopped out of the driver’s side. Slamming the door, he trotted around the extended hood of the truck, his dark-brown eyes homing in on Clay.
“Chief Thomas.” The man stuck his clipboard inside the helmet he was holding in his left hand and held out his right. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” Clay shook the man’s hand then turned to Ricki. “Special Agent James, this is Roger Jones.”
Ricki took the man’s outstretched hand and gave it a quick shake. The top of his head barely reached her nose, and he was thin enough that a good gust of wind might topple him over. “Thanks for coming,” she said, adding a miserly smile. “I appreciate it, Mr. Jones.”
“Everyone calls me Jonesy, and it’s nice to meet the famous Special Agent Ricki James.” The genuine enthusiasm in the investigator’s voice had Ricki sending a puzzled sideways glance at Clay, who shook his head in return.
“I was at Tacoma before taking the job in Olympia, and Captain Davis has raved about your investigating abilities for years,” Roger went on, a grin splitting his face. “I can see for myself that he left out what a great package all those brains came in.” He instantly shuffled his feet as color flashed across his cheeks. “I didn’t mean any kind of insult by that. Really, I didn’t. I hardly even noticed how attractive . . .” He trailed off again, looking desperately over at Clay.
The chief frowned back at him. “Just stop there, Jonesy. That hole you’re standing in is too deep to climb out of.”
“I would appreciate your honest assessment of what happened here,” Ricki said, all business a
s she pointed at the diner. “And as fast as you can give it to us.”
“Right. Right.” Jonesy spun around, grabbed the clipboard with one hand and slapped his helmet on his head with the other. He finished off by pulling a flashlight out of the oversized pocket of his jacket before walking straight through the open front door. The beam of light bounced against the ceiling for less than five seconds before the investigator called out, “Don’t come in here. It’s too dangerous. I’ll get my ladder out once I’m finished in here and take a look at the roof.”
Clay yelled back, “No problem,” before cupping a large hand around Ricki’s shoulder. “I’m going to go see if Adele can spare a couple of cups of coffee.” Adele Harris owned the candle shop two doors down and always had a pot of coffee brewing in her back room. Ricki knew that because she’d sat and enjoyed a cup with the friendly shopkeeper on many occasions when she’d first started renovating the Sunny Side Up from a New Age crystal and incense shop into a cozy diner. Mostly on her own, with some help from Bear and her uncle, because back then, she’d had the time to do it. BTB, before the badge, she thought, using a phrase Eddie had invented.
She waited on the sidewalk, politely acknowledging the greetings from an occasional passerby, ignoring the looks of pity from the ones who were locals. Vaguely surprised that she didn’t see Pete or any of his cronies, she decided they’d probably gathered down by the small marina to discuss and mourn the loss in their own way.
At least that was what she preferred to think.
Clay returned with two steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee. He handed one to Ricki, then took up a space on the sidewalk right next to her. When her phone rang, she absently pulled it out and held it up to her ear. “Special Agent James.”
One Last Scream (Special Agent Ricki James Book 2) Page 27
