Judith Post's Blog, page 20

Happy Thanksgiving

Wishing all of you a happy Thanksgiving. May it be filled with love and laughter and plenty of wonderful food. Maybe even a good book or two.

I’m a Newbie, and I screwed up

I had my newest Jazzi ALMOST ready to go. My critique partner wasn’t happy with my big final conflict scene, so I needed to rewrite it and run it past her again. For a while, I couldn’t think of a way to fix it, but bless my little grey cells, because I woke in the morning with a solution. I wrote all day that day, trying to make the last three chapters stronger. Then I sent them to her, but I know she works long hours on Friday and Saturday, and she wouldn’t be able to get to them.

So…I turned my thoughts to marketing. This time, I wanted to do a Goodreads Giveaway. And I wanted to do it BEFORE the book came out. So I decided to do a pre-order. I’ve never set one of those up before. My publisher did it for me. But other authors do them, so I gave it a try. When I clicked on the link, I thought I was choosing the date the pre-order would start and loaded my book. Instead, I chose when the book would go live, and the book went up before I got my feedback on what I’d tried to fix. So, I screwed up. I meant for the pre-order to go from Nov. 23 to Dec. 5. That’s what the giveaway dates are. Instead, the book’s pre-order went up the minute it was approved, and the book goes live on November 23rd, and it’s locked in so that I can’t change the mistakes my critique partner found.

Mary Lou said there were three easy fixes, so later, I’ll go back and fix them. But I hate sending a book out that I know has a bump in it. Arghh! The thing is, I thought I’d planned for the book’s come out better this time. And I did. But I sure didn’t understand how to do the pre-order the way I wanted to. But I live and learn. I’ll know next time. BUT if anyone out there is like me, just know that when you push pre-order and give a date, the book will go up as soon as Amazon approves it. They approved mine in only a few hours instead of the (sometimes) 3 days. Everything went faster than I expected. And if I’d done it right, I’d be thrilled. As is, the date I put down for what I meant to be the pre-order date was the date the book will go live. BUT, I’m still happy I did it. Hopefully, 50 people will win my Kindle book and maybe leave a review. I’m curious to see how that goes.

I like working with Goodreads. I’ve mostly had wonderful experiences with it. Fingers crossed, I will this time, too. But if I’ve confused you, The Body in the Wheelbarrow is up for pre-order right now. And on November 23rd, it’s live and for sale.

Goodbye, Old Faithful

This has nothing to do with writing. But when my first daughter was born in 1976–a bicentennial baby–we also bought a new furnace. And tomorrow, after all of these years, we have to install a new one. Our beloved furnace has kept us warm for all these years. Its heat exchanger is finally starting to crack, so we have to buy a new one, but really. How many people can claim to have had a furnace that lasted 46 years? I’m pretty sure the new one won’t be as good as the old one, but everything we buy these days isn’t made to last. It irritates me that I have to buy a warranty to guarantee that our expensive refrigerator will work for ONE year. Really? Manufacturers have so little faith in their products that they can’t promise they might work for a year or two? That’s just plain sad.

But tomorrow, the workmen will carry our furnace away. And I hope there’s a furnace heaven for products that work their hearts out. Goodbye, old friend. You have my love and respect.

Getting Nervous

I sent my Jazzi manuscript to my critique readers, and this is when I always get nervous. Did I get most of the book right? How many rewrites will I need to do? Did I do enough to keep readers turning pages?

I enjoyed this book because Jazzi and Ansel are expecting a baby. So far, pregnancy hasn’t felt very real for Jazzi, because she keeps feeling better and better as her body changes. Her waistline’s expanding, but so far, there’s no baby bump. It’s mid-March, and she, Ansel, and Jerod have bought a Greek Revival style house to flip. But this time, the men have strict rules for her. No caffeine, so everyone drinks caffeine free coffee to sympathize with her. No wine, and no heavy lifting. She’s not allowed to help patch the roof. She can still tear up ugly linoleum and refinish wood floors, but she can’t help hang drywall. It’s not until April, when she’s five months in, that she has to buy maternity clothes, and Ansel’s thrilled. Toby’s finally starting to take up space.

For this book, I saw a Greek Revival house in the Jan./Feb. 2021 Country Living magazine that I fell in love with. I tore out the pages to use as inspiration for my flippers. https://www.pinterest.com/judithpost/the-body-in-the-wheelbarrow/ I included a bust of C.S. Boyack because he gave me the idea of using Pinterest to save ideas for my books. I looked for images for a nursery, too, to get ready for Toby’s arrival. Ansel’s good at building things, and reorganizes the entire closet to make it easy storage for baby things. He built a cradle and baby bed for his son, too.

Of course, getting ready for Toby is only a subplot for the The Body in the Wheelbarrow. The main plot involves someone killing a fellow Derby race car driver, Sparks Stiller. Whoever did it loaded Sparks’s body into his car and drove to Jazzi’s dad’s assistant’s house, put it in Doc’s wheelbarrow, and left it beside his garage. Doc and Sparks were going to small claims court, so Doc’s considered a suspect. When Jazzi’s dad asks her to talk to her friend, Detective Gaff, to help Doc, she learns that she and Gaff can’t work together anymore. Gaff’s been teamed up with Detective Caden as partners, and Caden doesn’t bend rules. No citizens are involved in his work.

I hope the new wrinkle for Jazzi works. She feels let down by Gaff, but poor Gaff’s caught between a rock and a hard place. He can’t share information with her. I won’t know if I pulled any of my twists off until I get my bloodied manuscripts back. But it was fun writing this book!

Ugh!

I have a problem. My hearing isn’t what it once was. It’s frustrating. But I’ve never been good with accents. Never. My friend and I went on a trip to New Orleans years ago to attend a writing conference, and we stopped at a restaurant in Mississippi. The waitress came to take our orders and to tell us what the specials of the day were. We both listened to her and looked at each other. What did she say? “Can you repeat that?” I asked. She did. We still had no clue what she said. Her southern accent was so strong, we couldn’t make out what she said. We both ordered off the menu. I was too embarrassed to ask her to repeat the specials again.

I love English mysteries. So does HH. We watch more of them than we should, and we’ve always been able to understand what everyone says in every Hercule Poirot or Miss Marple. We watched every White Chapel and never had a problem. We watched all of the episodes of Pride and Prejudice without a hitch. But lately, it’s hit or miss if we can understand what the actors are saying. I asked a few of my friends, and they’re having the same problem. The actors talk fast and lower voices, and HH and I look at each other and say, “What?”

We tried to watch the new mystery, Karen Pirie. The acting was wonderful. The story was topnotch. I’ll never watch another one. I didn’t understand key scenes and had to rewind them to try to figure out what people were saying. One of my friends uses Closed Caption to READ the dialogue. If an actor can’t deliver lines that I can understand, I’m not watching her or him. I have other options. We have a Bose speaker, and sometimes, that helps. The words are crisper, clearer. But the new way of acting that mumbles words in a low voice is just plain irritating to me.

Time for me to start watching Hallmark mysteries. The actors are easier to understand.

Agatha

When I was younger, I read one Agatha Christie novel after another. These days, I usually watch a Miss Marple or Hercule Poirot mystery once a week, even though I’ve already seen most of them. There’s something about Christie’s style that comforts me. I’m still hooked on Agatha.

My friend bought me the book AGATHA CHRISTIE, AN ELUSIVE WOMAN by Lucy Worsley for my birthday, and I’ve been waiting for things to settle down so that I can enjoy it properly. I’m starting it tonight. While HH’s brother stayed with us, we watched David Suchet’s special on Agatha Christie’s life. Suchet played Poirot for 25 years and was looking for answers as to why her work’s been so popular and enduring. He explored her childhood, marriage and divorce, her second marriage and the “missing” time period when she disappeared for 11 days.

I loved the TV movie about those missing days–Agatha and The Truth of Murder, an alternate history where she disappears to solve a case. At the time, it was a national event, trying to find her. Search parties combed the area where her abandoned car was found. It made the newspapers every day. My friend told me the book she bought me might tell what really happened before she was found. Agatha never talked about it.

Christie herself was an interesting person, adventurous but private. David Suchet could only make guesses about what made her work so loved. Some people suggest readers loved the clever puzzles she created, the unexpected twist at the end of each book. Others argue that her exotic settings thrilled readers at the time. She took them to Egypt, on cruises, and on the Orient Express. She was fond of poisoning, so that a person might sip a cocktail in an elegant restaurant and die on the spot.

I love all of the elements in her novels, but for me, I mostly remember the characters she created with a few deft brush strokes. And I enjoy the interplay between those characters. So much can be hidden behind a smile. Her characters are complicated, and that makes them interesting. I’ve read a lot of mysteries by a lot of talented writers, but Agatha is still one of my favorites.

Are you a fan? What do you think made her one of the best-selling authors in the world?

Happy Halloween!

I thought I’d write a story with a little magic in it for Halloween:

Watchful Eyes

Zephyra frowned when Conan walked into her eatery for the fourth day in a row.  Why wasn’t he at his own restaurant serving the lunch crowd?  He got in line and approached the buffet, studying the specials for the day.  Three choices of sandwiches, three soups, and three salads.  When he reached her, he ordered the turkey with cranberry sauce on sourdough bread. 

“That’s what Jane always orders.”  Jane was his elderly relative, and she was sitting at a round table for eight with her friends.

“I know.  And she always chooses the minestrone soup and chopped salad—her favorite Thursday specials—so I will, too.  I figure if I come here enough, maybe she’ll notice me, and maybe you’ll stop by my pizzeria some night for supper.”

She didn’t see that happening.  She knew he was interested in her and didn’t want to encourage him, but the man sure was tempting.

When she only smiled, his dark eyes sparkled with amusement.  “I’ve lived long enough to love a challenge.”

She’d probably lived as long as he had and knew how to resist one.

He waited for an answer, and when he didn’t get one, said, “Okay, no reply.  I can take a hint.  I’m going to move down the line and leave you alone.”

Her young sous chef blushed with pleasure when he went to her station.  Drop dead gorgeous, he could charm with an offhand smile, and he’d definitely charmed Kaylee.  He looked back at Zephyra.  “Just remember, if you ever stop in for supper, it’s my treat.”

He owned one of the best pizza restaurants in town.  People drove from far and wide to try his pies.  Food critics compared him to New York and Chicago.  But then, he’d lived in both cities in previous lifetimes.  Italy, too.  He’d had plenty of time to perfect his products.  So had she.

She raised an eyebrow.  “You aren’t coming for lunch just to see me, are you?”

His lips curled into a seductive smile.  “Why not?  But I might have an ulterior motive.  Jane comes here every day.  She likes and trusts you.  If she sees me with you, she might actually talk to me someday.”  He was hundreds of years older than his relative and had kept track of her.  The old woman had a zest for life, but when he’d tried to bond with her, she’d shooed him away, didn’t trust “young” men who were attentive to old women.  Little did she know. 

Zephyra appreciated that he wanted to be there for Jane in her later years, so decided to help if she could.  “I’ll come sit at your table for a while.  If Jane sees us together, she might give you a chance.”

His smile grew.  “You have a soft spot for her, too.  Thank you.” 

He looked too pleased with himself.  She had a vague feeling she’d just been out maneuvered.  Was he here to get closer to Jane, or had he thought of a way to get closer to her, too?

Zephyra nodded to Kaylee.  “He wants minestrone.”

“Trying to get rid of me.  I get it.”  He looked amused as he turned to Kaylee.  “What have you got for me today?”

The girl’s blush deepened.  Only twenty, she was in culinary school with big dreams of becoming a celebrity chef.  “You ordered minestrone, right?”

“I grew up in Italy as a boy,” Conan told her.  “Your soup looks like something my mother would have made.”

“Zephyra taught me how to make it.”  Kaylee ladled it into a cup and passed it to him.  There was no way she could know Conan was a boy hundreds of years ago, and his mother might still be alive.  He moved his tray to the salad section where Trent waited on him.  The young man had a frown pulling at his brows as he glanced at Conan. 

“Is something wrong?” Conan asked.

“It’s probably nothing, but the guy at table three keeps staring at Kaylee.  He’s been here a few times lately, and it’s like he’s obsessed.  I don’t like the way he looks at her.”

Conan turned to study the customer, then glanced at Zephyra.  He nodded to the man.  “Is he a regular?”

Zephyra shook her head.  “He only started to come recently.”

Conan ordered the chopped salad, then returned to where Zephyra stood.  “He doesn’t take his eyes off Kaylee.  When she goes home, does she have a roommate?  Someone she lives with?”

“No, she’s alone in a small apartment a few blocks from here.”

“Close to us?  We should keep an eye on her.”  Conan lived above his pizzeria, and she lived above the eatery.  

Zephyra bit her bottom lip, nervous now, too.  The man’s gaze was too intense.  “I’ll come sit with you the minute the line slows down.  We’ll talk.”

With a nod, Conan went to the cash register to pay for his food, then found a small table near the man who only focused on Kaylee.  The man ate slowly, only taking a bite of food occasionally.  He had a newspaper that he glanced at now and then as if he’d come here for a leisurely lunch.

When the line of customers slowed down, Zephyra handed over the buffet to her assistants and went to sit with Conan.  “What do you think?”

“He’s making me worry.”

They were both studying him when Jane and her group of friends rose from their table to leave.  Jane stopped when she saw Zephyra sitting with Conan.  She frowned.  “This young man approached me, but he was a stranger.  I shooed him away.  Do you know him, dear?”

“Yes, he’s a friend.  Actually, he has family connections to you.  That’s one of the reasons he came here.  To meet you.”

Jane turned a sharp eye on him.  “Really?  Are you a distant relative?”

“Very distant, but I heard about you, and since we live in the same city, thought I’d look you up.”

Jane gave a naughty smile.  “And I told you that I don’t trust young men who try to charm old women.”

Conan laughed.  “Something like that.  But I understood where you were coming from.”

Zephyra motioned for Jane to join them, and she did, taking the seat across from Conan.  “Explain yourself.  How are we related?”

“Your grandfather was a distant relative of my mother.  Sort of complicated.”

Jane gave him a look.  “I study genealogy.  Did you know our local library is one of the best in the country?”

“I did, but I have a family Bible that lists everyone with a bloodline to me.  So, I wanted to meet you.”

Jane’s gaze rested on him, her expression thoughtful.  “Are you part of the Bianco family?”

Conan hesitated.  “Have you heard of us?”

“An ancient family.  My great-grandfather told me about you.  You visited him before he died.”

“Someone in my family did,” Conan said, correcting her.

She shook her head.  “No, it was you.  You visit everyone in your bloodline when their time is near.  My grandfather, my father, my mother…You come to comfort them, to be with them.  They all talked about you.  Grandma thought you were our family’s guardian angel.”

He glanced sideways at Zephyra.  “I’m no angel.  My parents taught me that family was everything, to respect my heritage.”

Jane cocked her head to the side, contemplating him.  “A kind thought.  How long do I have?  I’d rather do something fun with you than have you sit by my hospital bed.”

Conan grew serious.  “You’re the last of our line.  You never married, never had children.  Neither did your brother.”

Jane waved that away.  “You’re still alive.  Why not make children of your own?”

Conan’s eyebrows shot up, surprised by her directness.  “No one will have me.”

With a snort, Jane waved that away.  “You came a month before my brother died.  He was gay, you know.  He had such a crush on you.  He gushed on and on about you.”

Conan stumbled for a minute, then said, “Did I make his last days better?”

“You’ve made all of my family’s last days better.  You’ve always been there for us.  You even offered money that some of us didn’t have for funerals and gravesites.  Over and over again, one generation after another, you came.  You’re as handsome as everyone said.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Jane nodded at Zephyra.  “Why aren’t you trying to charm our wonderful chef?  You and she would make beautiful babies.”

Zephyra’s jaw dropped.  “Jane!”

The old woman chuckled, pleased with herself.  “Yes, dear?  And may I ask how old you are?  I’ve come here for fifteen years, and you haven’t aged a day.”

Uh-oh.  She might have to move soon.  “Great beauty products.”

“If you say so, but you and your friend both look thirty.  Probably have for a long time.  You seem like kind people, or…whatever you are, so why not connect and find happiness together?”

“We only met a short time ago.”  Conan wouldn’t mention they came together watching over her.  “Right now, we’re trying to decide if the man at the table by the wall is a stalker.  He never takes his eyes off Kaylee.”

Jane turned to look at him.  He must have felt their gazes on him, because he caught them staring and stood to leave.

Conan waited for him to walk out the door before he stood, too.  “I’m going to follow him.  If he goes to his car, maybe I can get his license number.  Don’t save my lunch for me, but you owe me a meal, Zephyra.”    

Jane watched him go.  “He’s a protector.  You could do worse than him.”

“I’m happy with my life just the way it is.”  But Zephyra was impressed that he’d go out of his way for Kaylee.

“Safe is nice, but you have a chance for so much more.”  She patted Zephyra’s shoulder before leaving, too. 

Zephyra headed to the kitchen.  She, Kaylee, and Trent cleaned together, and after they left, she stayed to bake fresh bread for tomorrow’s sandwiches.  She didn’t climb the steps to her apartment until after five.

Someone banged on her door at six.  She was stretched on her couch, reading a book, but got up to see who was there.  She cracked the door to find Conan holding a covered, foil pan, grinning at her.

“You owe me a meal, remember?  But I brought one to share.  Chicken alfredo from my restaurant.  I can tell you about your mystery man while we eat.”

She was curious what he’d found out, so opened the door and invited him in.   Conan headed straight to the kitchen and set the pasta dish on her counter.  He lifted the box on top of it.   “Salad.”  He put a bag next to it.  “Bread sticks.”

The aroma of cream sauce and garlic filled the room, and Zephyra realized she was starving.  She’d only had a cup of soup and nibbled on salad at lunch. 

When she licked her lips, Conan lifted the foil to dish up.  “It’s as good as it smells.  I’ve had years to perfect the recipe.”

She didn’t doubt that, so went to a cabinet and pulled out two plates.  Ten minutes later, they were seated at the long, narrow table that separated her kitchen and living room, eating and sipping wine. 

“This is really good,” she told him, mopping the last of the sauce from her plate.

He leaned back in his chair and emptied his wine glass.  “The man didn’t lead me to his car this afternoon.  He walked straight to a condo near the riverwalk and disappeared inside the building.  He had to use a code, so he must live there.”

“He never noticed you following him?”

“All he saw was a black dog.  A few people tried to catch me, but they were easy to dodge.  I’m not sure he’d have noticed anyway.  People stepped aside when they saw him, he looked so angry and upset.  I think we spooked him enough that he might make a move of some kind.”

“Should we call the police?”

“And tell them what?  He hasn’t done anything.  I’m going to shift again and keep watch on him tonight.  I just hope I can stay awake.”

“I’ll come with you.  We can take turns napping if we have to.”

“You have to work tomorrow.  I can sleep in and let my assistant run the lunch crowd.”

“I’ll pull on my magic for energy.  I want to help keep Kaylee safe.”

“Okay, then.  When do you want to leave?”

“Now.”  The air was nippy but not cold.  She waved her hand to lock her door when they stepped outside, then they headed to an alley across from the man’s condo. 

He shifted first, his body stretching and morphing, then her body shrank to become a white cat.  They padded to the front of the alley, where they could hide in the shadows to watch the man’s condo, and laid down together to stand guard. 

The sun set.  Even with fur, they moved closer together to keep warm.  The feel of Conan stretched beside her was reassuring.  She snuggled closer.  Stars sparkled above them before the man left his condo and began to walk to where Kaylee lived.  They followed him.  He stood outside her apartment building, looking up at her window, for a long time.  There was no movement, no hint that she was home.  Finally, the man left the shadows to venture inside the building.  They ducked in after him before the door shut behind him.  He never looked back, going straight to the stairs. 

They watched him climb the steps to Kaylee’s floor and followed discreetly.  He knocked on her door, waited, but no one answered.  He paced for a while before going to the end of the hallway where a heavy drape was pulled across a deep window.  He slid behind the thick material, disappearing. 

Conan nodded to the window at the other end of the long hall.  Sliding behind its drape, they jumped to stretch on the deep window ledge.  They were smashed even closer to each other with the limited space.  Conan curled around her, and she fell asleep. 

Footsteps woke her.  She blinked awake and stretched a paw to look through a crack in the curtain.  Kaylee was home and turning a key in her apartment door when the man rushed at her from his hiding spot.  She turned and gave a small squeal when he barreled into her and knocked her inside the foyer. 

Conan sprang into action immediately and raced to the open door.  She streaked after him.  The man had Kaylee pinned to the wall and his hands were groping her body.  He stopped and stiffened when he heard the low growl behind him.  Turning, he jerked with alarm when he saw Conan baring his teeth. 

He shoved away from Kaylee and spread his arms, smiling.  “Nice dog.  Everything’s fine.”  He reached into a pocket, and his hand gripped the handle of a small gun.

Zephyra launched herself at him, screeching and scratching.  She clung to his shoulder, digging her sharp claws into his face.  He was fighting her off when Conan sank his teeth into his shin.  The man yowled and tried to shake him off, too, while Kaylee called 911. 

The man was still struggling with them when the police arrived.  The minute they stormed through the door, Conan and she raced out of it.  They ran down the stairs and out of the building. 

They waited in an alley across the street until the police led the man to a squad car, his hands cuffed behind him.  Then they sauntered down alleyways back to her apartment.  Shifting before she waved the door open, they climbed the steps to her private residence. 

Conan’s nose was bleeding where the man had kicked at him to stave off his attack.  Zephyra’s neck was encircled in red where he’d tried to grab her to toss her off him.  They headed to the bathroom to treat their wounds.  They’d be gone by morning, their magic healing them faster than usual.  But they were really uncomfortable now. 

Conan got his bleeding stopped and helped her smear ointment on the back of her neck.  They were both tired.  He turned to her with a smile.  “Thanks for going with me.  I’m going home now so you can get some sleep.”

She reached for his hand.  “I’d sleep sounder with you next to me.”

He went still, staring at her.  “Are you sure?”

“We make a good match, a black dog and a white cat, like yin and yang.”

He pulled her to him and bent to kiss her.  Jane’s words flitted through her mind.  “Safe is nice, but you have a chance for so much more.”  So true.  She and Conan could have many happy lifetimes together.

Balance

Okay, I’m a Libran, which might mean that I like balance a little too much. I just finished reading Ruby Fever by Ilona Andrews. And I loved it…like I always do. And I gave it 5 stars, because the writing is wonderful, but my true score would have probably been 4.5 because there was SO much action, I lost some of the characterization that I love in her earlier books.

There’s something about the last book in an action series. It has to be bigger and badder than the books that came before it. But for me, that means there’ll be even more action with bigger battles and bigger odds, and less characterization and relationships. Ruby Fever had these, and I enjoyed each and every single one of them, but they were overwhelmed by one battle after another.

Now, to give Ilona Andrews credit, she comes up with so many different kinds of battles, that it’s entertaining. Her protagonist, Catalina Baylor, is a siren, who constantly has to struggle to keep her magic under control. But when she’s stressed, the siren turns into a harpie with black wings that pop out of her back, and then her magic turns deadly. Under that much pressure, the harpie is even harder for Catalina to control. Her fiancée, Alessandro, is a warrior type mage who can THINK of a weapon, and it’s in his hands. He’s gorgeous and deadly. But the villains coming against them are nothing to sneeze at. Arkan is trained in the Russian military fighting techniques, and he can snap his magic so that no one can move for 15 seconds to defend themselves. Really deadly.

Catalina’s brother-in-law is a telekinetic who can summon a whirling weapon with blades. He can topple trees, destroy buildings. Her sister and aunt can crush minds. Her friend, Cornelius, can communicate with animals. Which doesn’t sound deadly until he summons thousands of rats to attack or pats the head of a deadly beast summoned by an enemy from a different dimension. Every battle is different in an Ilona Andrews’ novel. And that’s what I enjoy about them. And the battles in this book were WONDERFUL.

But, I did get a little overwhelmed by battle after battle, and I missed a little more character interaction. But I can never go wrong with Ilona Andrews. When I want a good read, she’s guaranteed entertainment..

Sheriff Guthrie–part 3

The next morning, Guthrie volunteered to drive Jess to the big outlet stores a few miles from town.  He wanted to keep the boy busy, his mind occupied.  Jess hadn’t packed much, in his hurry to leave Madison.  He’d taken two weeks of vacation from work and hit the road. 

            They were in a discount jeans store when Lindsay came in.

            “Guthrie!”  She came to greet him.  “How did your supper turn out?”

            Right then, Jess stepped out of a fitting room with two pairs of jeans slung over his arm.  Lindsay looked at him, and words died on her lips.  She gaped.

            Guthrie smiled.  The boy was a looker, and it was fun to see Lindsay speechless.  It rarely happened.  “Lindsay, this is Jeannie’s stepson, Jess.  He can brag about the steaks I made for him as much as he wants.”

            Jess caught the drift of their conversation and grinned.  “He made us a mean supper.  Awesome.”

              Lindsay was lost in Jess’ dimples.  Guthrie added, “He’s staying in Emerald Hills for a while, so we might run into each other again.”

            Lindsay shook herself.  She was a short, sturdy, no-nonsense girl in her late twenties.   “I own the winery on the edge of town,” she told Jess.  “If you decide to stay and need a job, I’m expanding my operation, and I’m short-staffed.”

            Jess hesitated.  “I’m used to long hours.  If things work out, I’d like to move here.  I miss Jeannie.”

            She grinned.  “I can teach you anything about wine and grape plants that you don’t know.  If you stay, stop in and see me.”  She pinched her lips together, flustered.  “That didn’t sound right.  I meant…”

            Jess smiled.  “You’ll be the first person I hand an application to.”

            Lindsay gazed at him a minute more before she laughed.  “I don’t know what I’m thinking.  I have to grab a few things and get back to the winery.”  She turned to Guthrie.  “Nice meeting you.”

            When he raised an eyebrow, she sighed.  “Nice seeing you,” she corrected.  A blush crept up to color her cheeks.  “Sorry.  I must be stupid today.  Gotta go.”

            Guthrie watched her hurry away.  Interesting.  He turned to see the same befuddled expression on Jess’s face.  Holy hormones.  He’d just witnessed instant attraction at its finest.  He gripped Jess’s arm and led him to a rack of shirts.  A few long tees later, they paid, grabbed their bags, and headed back toward Emerald Hills.  On the drive, Jess eventually brought the conversation around to Lindsay. 

            “I didn’t see a ring on her finger,” he said.  “Is she single?”

            “Single and nice.  She’s just been so busy running the winery after her dad died that she hasn’t had a chance to meet anyone.”

            The answer seemed to please Jess.  The boy looked happy for the first time since Guthrie had met him.  Guthrie didn’t talk about the case.  Might as well let the kid’s mind dwell on pleasant things for as long as possible.

            When they got back to Jeannie’s place, she invited Guthrie to a late lunch.  “I know you work tonight.  Might as well get something hot in your belly before you start your shift.”

            She’d made a big pot of chili.  Guthrie loved chili.  He had to force himself to eat only one bowl.  At the rate he was going, he’d have to diet so that he could make it up and down the stairs to their apartments.  Did that count as exercise?  Maybe he could have a second bowl, but he pushed that thought away.

            Cheese Nip wanted to follow him home, but Guthrie patted the cat’s head.  “I’m on duty tonight.  My place will be empty.”

            The cat went to Jeannie’s rocking chair with the pillow on the seat and curled into a ball.

            “I swear he understands us,” Jeannie said.  She scooped leftovers into a plastic container to send home with Guthrie.

            On his drive to work, Guthrie did his usual swing through town to check on things.  When he got to the station, he settled behind his desk with a contented sigh.  He was sifting through paperwork when the door opened and a man in uniform walked toward him.

            Guthrie knew who he was before Ferguson introduced himself. 

            Guthrie glared.  “I thought you’d call before you came.”

            “Wouldn’t work.  Jess called Alex, and Alex told me where to find him.”

            Guthrie’s eyebrows rose in surprise.  “Alex turned Jess in?”

            Ferguson’s gaze never left his.  “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

            Guthrie let out a long breath.  “This is going to crush Jess.”

            “I know.  Madison’s a small town, like this.  I know the people.”  Ferguson didn’t sound happy.  “I’d rather you went with me to pick him up.”

            Guthrie gave a grim nod.  This wasn’t Ferguson’s fault.  It was Alex’s doing.  And Guthrie thought the only reason Alex would turn in his best friend was to save his own skin.  He had a pretty good idea who took Jess’s car that night.

            Ferguson drove.  When Guthrie knocked on the door of Jeannie’s apartment, and she saw the two men together, she blinked back tears.  She stared at Guthrie.  “I thought you were trying to help Jess.”

            “I am.  So is Ferguson.  If you invite us for coffee, we can explain.”

            Jess looked like someone had knocked the air out of him when Guthrie and Ferguson motioned for him to join them at the kitchen table.

            Ferguson let out a sigh.  “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but when you called Alex, he called me.”

            Color drained from Jess’s face.  He shook his head.  “No, Alex wouldn’t do that.”

            “He did.”  Ferguson leaned forward, trying to make his point.  “And there has to be a reason why.  Think, Jess.  How much had Alex had to drink when you fell asleep on the couch?”

            Jess frowned.  He glanced at Guthrie.  “What are you getting at?”

            Ferguson danced around the question.  “Was he sober enough to know that you hadn’t had that much to drink?  That you were in okay shape when you crashed on the couch?”

            Jess took a minute to answer.  “Alex was tipsy, but that was all.  He laughed a little too much, and he was a little too loud, but he wasn’t sloppy drunk.  Megan doesn’t like it when he gets sloppy.”

            Guthrie thought a minute.  He’d made a false assumption early on, that Alex and his girlfriend were wasted when the cops came to their door.  But now, he wondered.  “Were Alex and Megan passed out when the cops came to talk to you?”

            “From being too tired, sure, but they never drink that much.  They’re like me.  We know when to quit.”

            Guthrie and Ferguson locked gazes.  “Is there someone who was at that party that Alex would lie to protect?”

            “Alex wouldn’t….”  The words died on Jess’s lips.  He gripped the tabletop, fighting for control.  “Alex’s older brother has been in and out of trouble for years.”

            Ferguson leaned back in his chair.  He nodded.  He looked like a man where all of the puzzle pieces had just fallen into place.  “He stops by his parents’ home a lot, doesn’t he?  To see Alex?”

            Jess took a deep breath.  “He only comes when his parents are in Florida for the winter.  He likes to hit up Alex for a little money here and there.  His parents won’t loan him any anymore.  They say it only goes to booze and drugs.”

            “How does Alex feel about his brother?” Ferguson asked.

            “He knows, we all do, that Travis is in bad shape.  Alex wouldn’t turn me in to protect him.”

            Ferguson looked downright pleased with himself.  “No, he wouldn’t.  But anyone can pick up a cell phone and make a call to our station, stating he’s Alex Linter.”

            Jess’s shoulders relaxed.  “Alex didn’t turn me in?”

            “I’m guessing his brother overheard your call to Alex and then he called us.  It shouldn’t be that hard to prove.  There are phone records.  No one’s going to like how this turns out, though.”  Ferguson shrugged.  “Not exactly true.  But I don’t give a rat’s ass about Alex’s brother…or Heather.  They don’t care about anyone or anything, including themselves.”

            Guthrie knew the type.  Every law officer did.

            “Heather?” Jeannie asked.

            Ferguson shrugged.  “A young woman called in the accident and gave us Jess’s license plate number.  Someone took the spare keys out of Roy’s canister and met Travis at the party.  Who would you bet money on?”
            A fierce gleam shone in Jeannie’s eyes.  Guthrie liked that she could be scrappy when someone she loved was in trouble. 

            Ferguson looked at Jess.  “You need to come back to Madison with me.  We need to wrap up this problem.  You ready?”

            Jess squared his shoulders and stood.  “Dad’s going to hate me after this.”

            “He didn’t like you that much to begin with.”  Ferguson nodded toward Jeannie.  “There’s the person who’ll always be in your corner.”  He nodded to Guthrie, too.  “And I think you might have another supporter.  He was ready to arm wrestle me at the station to keep you safe.”

            Jeannie’s gaze turned to Guthrie.  “Is that true?”
            Ferguson answered.  “If I was in trouble, I’d be happy to have this guy in my corner.”

            Jeannie smiled at Guthrie, and he felt like his heart expanded in his chest.  She locked gazes with him.  “I’m going with Jess until this is finished, but when I get home, I owe you a big thank you supper.”  She nodded toward the cat.  “Cheese Nip’s yours until I get back.  Can you handle that?”

            Guthrie met her gaze head-on.  He tended to be a private person, but right now, he didn’t care.  “I can handle more than you give me credit for.  And when you get back, we’re going to talk about more than suppers.”

            Her blue eyes went wide.  “You’ve been a bachelor how long?”
            “Too long.  Things change, and Jess should move in with you for a while after this is settled.  He has a job offer here.”

            Jess looked uncertain.  “I haven’t been anything but a bother for you.”

            “Not your fault.  But maybe something good will come of it.  Maybe you and Jeannie were sent here for a reason.  Emerald Hills is full of magic, you know.”

            Jess laughed.  “Like Tinkerbell and magic dust?”

            Guthrie smiled.  “No witches’ wands or happy ever afters, but Emerald Hills takes care of its own.  You’ll see.”  He wasn’t about to tell them more.  No one would believe him.

            When Jess and Jeannie were packed and ready to leave, Guthrie scooped up Cheese Nip and followed them down the stairs.  They’d be back, he knew.  Jess helped Jeannie into his rented car, then pulled out behind Ferguson.  Guthrie liked that man.  Madison was lucky to have him.

            The next two weeks dragged.  Guthrie’s mind kept turning to Jess, Alex, and Alex’s brother.  When he pulled into the lot behind his apartment after what seemed a long day, he was relieved to see a new car parked next to Jeannie’s SUV.  Jess’s car?  He’d bet money on it.

            He stormed up the steps to his apartment, grabbed Cheese Nip, and hurried to Jeannie’s.  The door opened before he knocked. 

            Jeannie threw herself against Guthrie’s chest, wrapping him in her arms.  Damn, she felt good.  “It’s done.  Jess’s name is cleared.”

            They hurried into the kitchen and Jess smiled when he saw Guthrie.  Another little zing of joy raced through him.

            The boy looked tired.  “I don’t know if things would have turned out the same if I hadn’t met you.   Thank you.”   

            “Tell me what happened.”  Guthrie set the cat down, and Cheese Nip went to jump on Jeannie’s lap.  He’d missed her.

            “You and Ferguson had everything pretty much right,” Jess told him.  “Heather knew that Travis would be at the party that night.  She called him and told him to let her know when it was safe for them to get together.  She took my spare keys from Dad’s canister, and Travis drove them out to the cemetery, and they killed a bottle of tequila and a dozen beers between them.  He’d already had plenty to drink at the party, so he was in bad shape when he drove back.”

            Guthrie shook his head.  “She let him drive?”

            Jess sighed.  “I guess he insisted, and she didn’t really care.  He remembered hitting the woman, but said it was like a dream, like it wasn’t real.  Heather was in better shape, though, and wiped everything clean before she left.”

            Guthrie frowned.  “Your dad didn’t wake up when she got home?”

            Jess let out a slow breath.  “Yes, he did.”

            Guthrie glanced at Jeannie.  “He guessed and didn’t say anything?”
            Jeannie’s face took on a pinched expression.  “I told you that I couldn’t satisfy Roy.  He likes his women.”

            “And he’d rather keep his young bedmate than protect his son?”

            Jeannie sighed.  “Even for Roy, he reached a new low.”

            “And the spare keys?”

            “Heather couldn’t put them back with Roy standing there, watching her.  Roy found them in her jeans pocket when he did the laundry.”

            “And?”

            “He put them back, but by then, Ferguson had already questioned him and knew they’d been missing.”

            Sad.  But Guthrie didn’t care if Travis, Heather, or Roy crashed and burned.  All he cared about was Jeannie and Jess.  “Maybe it’s time for both of you to have a fresh start,” he said.  “Emerald Hills can give you that.”

            “And you?”  Jeannie held his gaze.  “Are you ready for something new in your life?  It seems to me that you’ve been pretty comfortable for a long time.”

            Guthrie shrugged.  “A cat changed that.  You have to go to the store to buy tuna for it.  The next thing you know, you’re buying it shredded cheese and cat nip.  And you like it.”

            She smiled.

            Guthrie went on.  “And then there’s the food.  A wise woman once told me that food can tame the savage beast.  I don’t consider myself savage, but….”

            “You do like food,” Jess said.

            Jeannie reached for Guthrie’s hand, and Jess looked flustered. 

            “I gotta go.  I’ll be back later.”

            Jeannie frowned.  “Where are you off to?”
            “A woman offered me a job.  I’m going to apply for it.”

            Guthrie grinned.  He had an idea that someday soon, Jess would be doing a lot more than pruning vines and helping with remodeling.  They’d better enjoy him while they could.

            When Jess left the apartment, Jeannie turned to Guthrie.  “You wanted to talk?”

            “I’m not a bit romantic or suave.  I work odd hours, and I can be a bit gruff.  But I like you, and….”

            That’s as far as he got.  Redheads didn’t just have tempers.  They were passionate. Jeannie’s hands were in his hair, her lips on his lips.  She might be older, like him, but there was still a fire in her furnace.  Guthrie knew he was lost.  The two of them might be going gray and fighting wrinkles, but none of that mattered.  Jeannie was everything he’d ever wanted, and if she felt the same way, he couldn’t wait for his Golden Years.   Old age was going to be damned fun.

Sheriff Guthrie–part 2

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January proved to be a nice, slow month—more snow than usual, so less tourists on weekends.  Shop owners were used to it.  They spent their days in hibernation, making more inventory for their shelves, putting fresh paint on walls—readying for the heavy business days of warm weather. 

            Guthrie drove past Tana’s Sweet Shoppe on one of his daily security treks through town.  For the first time, Tana had locked her doors the weekend after Christmas and left Emerald Hills.  She was spending January and February in Brazil with Nate.  They wouldn’t return until March—plenty of time for Tana to ready her shop and for Nate to write and edit before he started teaching photojournalism classes at the college. 

            Guthrie looked in Gino’s shoe shop as he passed it.  A fair amount of customers browsed inside, probably attracted by the boot sale now in progress.  On Friday and Saturday, while Gino sold Italian-made shoes, Evelyn took their Bridey to her dance studio in the city, returning on Sunday.  Guthrie slowed when he saw Sheri, Emerald Hills’ high school music teacher, leaving Rachel and Isak’s bakery.  Morgan was parked at the curb, waiting for her.  A nice couple.  Music was their life.  Guthrie returned to the station and settled into his routine.  Life was on track in Emerald Hills.

            He worked night shift on Valentine’s Day, so that Mike could celebrate it with his wife.  Rotten weather for Cupid’s frolics—snow and sleet, plenty of fender benders and a semi overturned on the highway, but no casualties.   He felt relief when the sun shone on Monday morning, his day off.  When he blinked awake, Cheese Nip stretched and yawned beside him.  The cat had begun sleeping a few nights with Jeannie at her place, then scratching at Guthrie’s door to stay with him a while.  Guthrie had been dubious about shared custody of the cat, but it seemed to be working for everyone, especially Cheese Nip. 

            This morning, Guthrie took his time over coffee and the newspaper before he got ready to run errands that he’d gotten behind on.  He opened his cupboards to grab a quick bowl of cereal before he left the apartment, but every box was nearly empty.  He ended up pouring the remains of mini-wheats, peanut butter-flavored somethings, and rice puffs together in a bowl.  He had a sparse inch of milk to cover them.  Time for the grocery store.

            When he was ready to go, he picked up Cheese Nip and carted him to Jeannie’s door.  A gray sedan was parked next to Jeannie’s SUV.  A young man opened her door.  When he saw Guthrie, he jammed his hands deep into his jeans pockets, turned, and raced up the stairs.  Guthrie followed at a slower pace.

            Jeannie greeted him at her apartment.  The fine lines etched in her forehead looked deeper.  Her step was less bouncy than usual. 

            Guthrie bent to put the cat down, then turned to the young man.  A nice looking kid.  Longish dark hair, brown eyes.  He hunched his shoulders and watched Guthrie nervously. 

            Guthrie tried a smile to put him at ease.  “You must be Jess.  I’ve heard a lot about you.”

            Jess winced.  He held his ground, but it took effort, Guthrie could tell. 

            Jeannie motioned Guthrie to the kitchen table and plopped down opposite him.  “Jess got here last night.  He’s in trouble.  He thinks you’re here to arrest him.”

            “Jeannie!”  Jess looked like he might bolt.

            “Guthrie’s a friend,” Jeannie told him. 

            Guthrie frowned.  “I’m in civilian clothes.  How does he know I’m a sheriff?”

            Jeannie raised an eyebrow.  “Your car’s parked by your door.”

            Oh, that.  “Your step-mom and I have shared many a meal.”  Guthrie didn’t know what was going on, but he might as well ease into it.  He sure as hell didn’t want to cuff Jeannie’s stepson. 

            “Guthrie’s helped me paint and spruce up the shop,” Jeannie added.  “Like I said, he’s a friend.  He might have some ideas.”

            The boy looked panic-stricken.  “Never mind.  I shouldn’t have come here.  This isn’t your problem.”

            “Yes, it is.”  Her voice surprised both of them.  Guthrie had never heard that edge of steel before.  “What are you going to do?  Run?  How far do you think you’ll get?”

            She placed both hands on the table top and locked her fingers together.  “Jess went to a party on Saturday night.  He drank too much and fell asleep on his friend’s couch.”

            “We’d planned it that way.” Jess looked at the door, obviously tempted.  “I never drink and drive.”

            Jeannie continued her story.  “Police pounded on the door and woke him up.  His car was seen at a hit-and-run.  The woman will survive, but she’s in the hospital with multiple injuries.”

            Guthrie inhaled a slow breath.  Not a good start for a story.  “Did his friend provide an alibi, so that the cops can rule out Jess?”

            Jeannie grimaced.  “The friend was upstairs with his girlfriend, both of them out to the world.  Neither of them would have heard someone leave the house or return.”

            “What about Jess’ car?  Where did the cops find it?”

            “In the friend’s driveway where Jess had parked it.”

            “So it was a car that looked like his?” Guthrie asked.

            Jess sagged onto a chair, too.  The glance he threw at Guthrie was a plea for help.  “The front bumper was caved in, and blood was splattered on the grille.  They found more blood when they looked.”

            “Was the victim conscious enough to describe your car?”   Hit-and-runs were bad enough, but the less serious the injuries, the better.

            Jess shook his head.  “An anonymous caller reported the incident and gave the cops my license plate.”

            Guthrie automatically reached for his shirt pocket where he usually kept his pad and pen.  Not there.  He was off-duty.  “Do you remember anything about that night?”

            Jess ran his hand through his dark hair.  “I didn’t drink that much, but I was really tired.  I must have gotten up sometime and stumbled into the kitchen to take some aspirin.  The cops found them spilled on the countertop and a half-empty glass of water on the floor by the couch.”

            “Anything else?” Guthrie asked.

            Jess pressed his lips together and shook his head.  He rubbed his forehead.  “Could I have gotten up in the middle of the night and driven around town and not remember any of it?”

            “It’s happened.”  Too much liquor, and brains could go blank, but Guthrie doubted Jess could drive if he was in that bad of shape.  It didn’t even sound like the boy had drunk enough to black-out.  He glanced at Jeannie’s pale complexion and bleak eyes and pressed on.  “How many people were at this party?  And when did you hit the couch?   Was the party still going strong?”

            Jess nodded.  “I’d worked all day.  I made it to midnight okay.  By two, I was struggling to stay awake.  They were all in the kitchen, playing beer pong.  I went out to sit on the sofa a minute, and I must have fallen asleep.”

            “Where were your car keys?”

            “I left them on the kitchen counter.”

            Guthrie let out a breath.  Now they were getting somewhere.  “Anyone could have taken your keys and gone on a joy ride for a while.”

            Jeannie’s gaze met his.  “The cops seem hell-bent on proving Jess did it.”

            Guthrie shrugged.  “That’s part of the job.  When you interrogate a person, you try to break him.  Not many peoples’ consciences make them confess.”

            Jeannie went to the countertop to pour herself another cup of coffee.  Cheese Nip stayed close on her heels, sensing her turmoil.  She poured Guthrie a cup, too, out of habit and carried it to him.  “Is there something we should do?  Should we hire a lawyer?  A private detective?”

            Guthrie sipped his coffee, hesitating before he answered.  If it were him in Jeannie’s place, what would he do?  Finally, he said, “You have me.  Let me make a few calls.  The police are going over the car, right?”

            Jess nodded.  “I had to rent a car to drive here.”

            That made Guthrie pause.  “Were you allowed to leave town?”

            Jess looked away, not meeting his gaze.

            “Well?” Jeannie asked.

            “It wasn’t an order.  It sounded more like a suggestion.”

            “Jess!”  She hugged her arms across her chest. 

            “I went to Dad,” he said.  “I told him what happened.  Dad said I’m a man now.  I should handle my own problems.”

            Guthrie clenched his hands.   “Anyone needs help in a time like this, old or young.”  It sounded like the dad didn’t want to be bothered.

            Jess glanced at Jeannie, she gave a small nod, and he said, “Dad has a new girlfriend, half his age.  She’s all he thinks about.”

              Guthrie shook his head.  How had Jeannie ended up with a guy like Roy?  “Let me call the detective in charge of the case.  I’ll see what I can find out.”  Maybe they’d get lucky and find fingerprints, but Guthrie doubted it.  Fear was a pretty primal emotion, and it could make a person’s survival instincts kick into gear.  Even if the perp was drunk, if he could “borrow” a car and drive, he’d think clearly enough to wipe down the steering wheel and car handles to keep himself out of trouble.        

            “If you call, they’ll know I’m here.”  Jess shifted in his chair, ready to make a break for the door. 

            “Not necessarily.”  Guthrie glanced at Jeannie.  “Any kid would call his mom when he’s in trouble.  We’re neighbors, friends.  She got your call, was worried sick, and came to me for ideas.”

            “Thank you.”  Jeannie reached across the table and took his hand.   

            Guthrie swallowed a knot in his throat.  “Give me all the information you have, and I’ll go to my place to make the call.  I’ll come back when I know something.”

            Jess looked nervous.  “Why your place?  Why not here?  You’re going to turn me in, aren’t you?”

            Guthrie sighed.  “If I wanted you in custody, I’d arrest you myself.  But I need to concentrate, with no distractions, and I do that better when I’m alone.”

            The air went out of Jess.  “I get it.  I’m sorry.”

            “No problem.”  The kid had to be a nervous wreck by now.  “Hang in there.  I’ll be back as soon as I finish my calls.”

            The cat started to follow him, but Guthrie frowned.  “Jeannie and the kid need you more.”

            Cheese Nip turned and padded back to Jess.  He let Jess pick him up and hold him close. 

            Guthrie made a mental note to buy something special for the fur ball, maybe a can of salmon instead of tuna.  That cat was a keeper.  When he settled in his apartment, he called the detective’s number on the business card Jess gave him. 

            Ferguson listened to Guthrie’s story and said, “I know Jeannie and Jess, like them both.  That boy’s always struck me as a good kid.  This is a weird case.  Something feels off about it, you know?”

            “Jess told Jeannie that an anonymous caller reported the accident.”

            Ferguson hesitated before answering.  “We live in a small town.  We don’t get anonymous calls…until now.”

            “Male or female?”

            “A woman, sounded younger.”
            Guthrie fell into police-speak.  “Jess told Jeannie that he fell asleep at two in the morning while the party was still going strong.  It’s possible he woke up and took off in his car, but he didn’t pass out on the couch.  He was coherent when he fell asleep.”

            “Same thing I thought.”  Ferguson was quiet a minute.  “If Jess should call Jeannie again or get in touch with her, ask him if anyone else had a key to his car.  And if he happens to show up on Jeannie’s doorstep, tell him to stay put and give me some time to follow up on some leads here.”

            There was something in the tone of Ferguson’s voice.  He suspected that Jess was in Jeannie’s apartment right now.  Guthrie was beginning to like this guy.  “I’ll pass the information on to Jeannie.”

            “And tell her hi from me and the missus.”

            “Will do.”

            Before Guthrie could hang up, Ferguson added, “The minute you find out about the keys, give me a call.”  He added, “Have Jeannie call Jess to find out.”

            Okay, Ferguson didn’t suspect.  He was almost positive.  He added that last line so that Guthrie wouldn’t have to stall or explain how he got the information so quickly.  “I’ll get back to you as fast as I can.”

            “Good, and be sure to tell Jess to stay put.  I’m not looking for him right now.  I’m just working the case.”

            “And if you hit all dead-ends?”

            “I’ll call you, but Jess won’t do himself any favors by running.”

            Guthrie climbed the stairs to Jeannie’s apartment again and reported on his conversation with Ferguson.

            Jess frowned.  “The only person I gave a spare key to was Dad.  That way, if I locked my keys in the car somehow, he could help me.”

            “Where does your dad keep the spare?”
            “In the tea canister in his kitchen.”

            Guthrie nodded.  Not too many people would look there.  But still…he’d always believed in ruling out everything he could.  When he called Ferguson back, he told him about the spare.

            Jeannie looked wiped out.  Guthrie doubted she’d gotten much sleep last night.  “You both look like you could use a long nap.  Why don’t you grab some shut eye and then come to my place for supper tonight?  I have to go to the store anyway.  I’m out of everything.  What if I throw three steaks in cast-iron skillets, buy a bag of salad, and call it a meal?”

            “Are you sure?”  He’d never invited Jeannie for supper before, Guthrie realized.  But then, he never invited anyone.

            “My apartment’s a place where furniture goes to die,” he warned, “but I know how to make a mean steak.  Six o’clock?”

            She nodded.  “We’ll be there.”

            Jess looked ready to drop.  He sighed.  “I don’t have any place else to go, and I can’t afford to stay in hotels.  I’ll be there.”

            “Good enough.  I’ll take off and let you sleep, and I’ll see you at six tonight.”

Guthrie didn’t bother returning to his apartment, but went straight to his squad car and headed to the grocery store.  It had a butcher’s counter, and he bought three, thick ribeyes.

Then he wandered up and down aisles, stopping so often to talk to residents, that it took him an hour and a half before he left the store.   Time well spent.  He’d learned that Lucy Farmer had moved her mom into the nursing center at Emerald Hills and sold her mom’s house in Kentucky.  Lindsay, who owned the winery on the far side of town, was  expanding her vineyard and was looking for help, with no luck.  And Edna Stiltsen was planning on retiring from her job as postmistress this spring.  She was training her granddaughter, Maddie, to take her place.

            Guthrie liked keeping tabs on the pulse of Emerald Hills.  He made two more stops on his way home.  The church women hadn’t seen him for a while.  He got nabbed at the hardware store and at Rachel and Isak’s bakery.  By the time he got back to his apartment and started carrying groceries inside, Cheese Nip sauntered across the parking lot to help him.

            Guthrie used his sternest voice.  “I thought you were staying with Jeannie and Jess.”

            The cat meowed.  It glanced at the dark windows of Jeannie’s apartment. 

            Guthrie nodded.  “They fell asleep on you during the day, didn’t they?  Well, come on then.  I got you something special.”  He and the cat padded up and down the steps until his trunk was empty.  Then Guthrie opened the can of salmon and gave Cheese Nip two large scoops. 

            Purrs filled the kitchen.  The cat ate while Guthrie seasoned his steaks and drizzled them with olive oil.  Lucy Farmer had gotten him hooked on olive oil, explaining that her Bill’s family had a history of heart disease, and olive oil was healthier than bacon grease or lard.  She had a habit of quoting celebrity chefs from the food networks on TV.  Guthrie always nodded and listened, because Lucy made the best casseroles in the entire town.

            He’d bought a bag of Caesar salad to go with the steaks, and when he’d run into Midu at the ice cream aisle, she’d talked him into buying big, Idaho potatoes to bake.  He preheated the oven, poked them, and tossed them inside, as she’d instructed.  425 degrees for an hour, she’d told him.  At the bakery, Rachel had talked him into buying macarons instead of a cake.  “A cake’s too heavy after steaks and potatoes.”  He was going to have to be careful.  If the women found out he was cooking for Jeannie and Jess, he’d practically have to beat them away, so that they wouldn’t come to his apartment to make sure he did it right.

            Cheese Nip found a spot on the back of the old, plaid sofa where he could be out of the way and still keep tabs on what Guthrie was about.  Guthrie found himself talking to the cat while he finished up in the kitchen. 

            By the time Jeannie and Jess knocked on his door, the cat had already nibbled at a few pieces of steak that Guthrie had cut from an end before he cooked it.

            Jeannie looked prettier than usual.  She’d dressed in a long, flowered skirt and a russet-colored sweater that set-off the color of her hair.  She’d dabbed on some make-up, too.  By the way Jess dug into the steak, Guthrie suspected that he hadn’t eaten much for the last few days.  They’d finished their meal and Guthrie had poured more coffee when his cell phone buzzed. 

            Ferguson didn’t mince words.  “If you see Jeannie, tell her to hang in there.  Jess’s spare key wasn’t at Roy’s.  Someone took it out of the tea canister.”

            “Do you think Roy took it?”

            “No, he seemed too upset, looked like he’d been sucker-punched.”

            “Interesting.”

            “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.  We’re checking into it.” 

            When he hung up, Guthrie told Jeannie and Jess what Ferguson had learned. 

            Jess ran his hand through his dark hair—his nervous habit.  Most people had one.  Guthrie looked for them, stored them away as cues to moods.  The boy was clearly upset. 

            “What is it?” Jeannie prompted him.  “Don’t hold anything back right now.”

            Jess sighed.  “One time, when I was at Dad’s, he went out to the garage to find a tool for me, and Heather came on to me.”

            Jeannie stared.  “Your dad’s new girlfriend?  How did you handle it?”
            “I just played it off.  She’s like that, flirts with anybody.  I thought maybe I’d read her wrong, but I don’t think so.”

            Guthrie rubbed his chin, thinking.  “Would she cheat on your dad?”

            “She’d cheat on anybody.”

            “Does she have a car?” Guthrie asked.

            “A bright-red, mini-Cooper convertible.”

            “Not the kind of car that’s discreet.”  Guthrie poured a splash of milk in his coffee and added sugar.  He drank it black at the station and in the morning, but after dinner, if he added sugar, it felt almost like a dessert. 

            “Do you think Heather drove Jess’s car?” Jeannie asked.

            Guthrie shook his head.  “That doesn’t make sense.  If she drove it and took the time to wipe the car clean, she’d put the keys back in the canister.  And how did she get to Jess’s friend’s house?  You’d think someone would have noticed her Cooper.”

            “I was only two blocks from Dad’s place,” Jess said.  “Alex house-sits for his parents when they’re in Florida.  We’ve been friends since pre-school.”

            Guthrie and Jeannie locked gazes.  She spoke first.  “You don’t suppose Heather knew one of the boys at the party?”

            Jess grimaced.  “We’re not boys anymore, Jeannie.  Alex and I are twenty-one.  His friends from work are anywhere from twenty to thirty.”

            Jeannie sighed.  “Still too young for Heather.”

            Jess raised an eyebrow.  “It’s not the age, Mom, it’s the mileage.  Heather’s been around, but some of the guys at the party were close to thirty.  She’s not much older than that.”

            Guthrie grew quiet, mulling things over.  “How many people drove to the party?”

            Jess blinked, caught off balance.  “Not that many.  People came in groups, so that we wouldn’t have to worry about parking.”

            “I’d like you to make me a list of the people who didn’t drive,” Guthrie said.    “The people who wouldn’t have cars.”

            Jess studied him.  “You think Heather brought my spare keys to someone at the party and went out to have fun with him.”

            Guthrie nodded.  “She wouldn’t want to be seen in her car.  Everyone would recognize it, and if they knew your dad, they’d wonder.  And if the guy didn’t drive….”

            Jess nodded.  “I’ll call Alex.  Between us, we can make you a list.”

            After Jeannie and Jess left, Guthrie called Ferguson.  When he told him about Heather hitting on Jess, he wasn’t surprised. 

            “Heather likes to party, to have fun.  Right now, Roy has enough money to buy her things and keep her entertained, but he isn’t wild enough to hold her for long.  It’s only a matter of time before she moves on.”

            “Unless she stays with him and sees guys on the side.”  Guthrie wondered if Roy would be all right with that.  If it meant keeping a hot, young girlfriend, maybe he’d compromise.

*     *     *     *