by Patti Larsen
She didn’t seem swayed by the familial label. “I don’t care if the house is falling into a volcanic pit and we have ten minutes to vacate the premises,” Mom snarled with a level of heat that told me she was the magma chamber and he was the sacrifice at the top of said volcano stupid enough to throw himself at her mercy. “Fiona,” she jabbed a perfectly pink manicured finger at me over his shoulder, “and Crew,” that hand whipped sideways though her face remained locked on Robert’s, aiming in my fiancé’s now grinning direction, “are getting married.” She made one final motion, that sharpened digit arrowing straight down toward her feet. “Here. At Petunia’s. Tomorrow afternoon. And that’s final.”
I think if Robert had been alone he would have caved. Even with the backing of the council, apparently, if he had been there without backup, I know he wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Unfortunately, he had Rose. Argh. And she wasn’t intimidated by my mother, not one little bit (though she should have been, because even I was and, from the hurried wiping of his grin from his face when Mom whipped around to glare at Crew, so was he).
“You will all vacate this place,” Rose said it like Petunia’s was some kind of flophouse and we were squatters, “while Deputy Carlisle and I conduct a thorough,” she met my gaze with hers, tight smile on her face, “investigation.”
There was the sign of dissent again in their ranks, the way Robert looked at her for the briefest of moments as if she’d stolen his thunder. He cleared his throat and shouldered her back behind him while she did her own staring in anger, arms crossing over her chest.
Robert ignored his unhappy girlfriend in favor of trying for official and ending up somewhere south of arrogantly ineffectual. “The wedding will have to wait. You are all suspects in a murder—”
“Ahem,” Dr. Aberstock intervened, one finger held up much as Mom had only much more kindly, “suspected murder. I won’t have that conclusion for you until I conduct my autopsy.”
Robert snarled at him but went on as if the doc hadn’t spoken. “—and, as such, you are to leave Petunia’s and not return until this crime is solved.”
Wait, what? “What the hell does that mean?” He wasn’t implying I couldn’t come home until he solved the case? Because with Robert investigating, that could be never.
Suspicion sucked the air from my lungs as I glanced at Daisy and had a horrible thought. Why did they need to kick us out? All they had to do was sniff around the dining room, not the entirety of Petunia’s.
So, if access to my B&B was what they were after, why was that? What were they looking for?
Nope, wasn’t lost on me Daisy had told Rose about our treasure hunt. Nor was it a huge leap to think maybe the pair had gotten around to being curious enough to dig into what I might know. But no, wait. Why now? They’d had ages to do their own poking about. Why would that even be on their radar if it hadn’t been up until now?
I was clearly jumping at shadows. Right?
Unless they’d found something themselves and were putting two and treasure together…
“This won’t stand.” Crew scowled at Robert but didn’t bother trying to argue with him further, guiding me toward the living room door. He had me out and in the foyer, whispering in my ear before anyone could follow. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Oh crap. “The treasure.” I swallowed. “The music box is downstairs.” Along with everything we had, except the frame the map had originally been housed in. That remained at Mom and Dad’s.
Crew instantly steered me toward the apartment door, but Robert was faster, blocking my way down the steps to my place while we both stopped in our tracks.
“Out,” he said with that oily smirk of his, the darkness surfacing fully in his eyes, that dangerous edge of breaking point Robert I knew lingered behind the grossness that he lived moment to moment. “Now.”
That’s how we found ourselves on the front step of Petunia’s, staring at the door as it closed on me and Crew, my pug on her leash stuffed hastily into her harness. The asshat had allowed everyone else to stay, including Liz, my mom, Daisy. Ian and Andrew, Katelyn and Dominic. Even Jill and Matt. To question them, apparently. Only Crew and I had to go.
I turned to my fiancé, heart breaking, not even caring about Thea Isaac at the moment and knowing that made me a truly terrible person. Even as Crew’s phone rang and he answered it with a deep frown of anger.
He didn’t speak, didn’t move, his face tight and rigid. And then, with the barest nod, he hung up, thumb mashing the red hang up button before he tucked his arm into mine and turned me toward the street.
“City council meeting,” he said. “Our presence has been requested.”
Was I the only one who didn’t think such a summons boded well?
***
Chapter Nine
I stood off to one side, Crew front and center in the council room, the place eerily empty without a crowd of Reading residents at my back filling every nook and cranny just to find out what was up.
Nope, not this afternoon the en masse gaping of every soul that lived in our fine little town. Turned out this was a closed meeting, despite being held in the huge room at the base of town hall more suited to mayoral debates and the odd craft sale. Multi-purpose? You betcha.
It was hard not to shuffle my feet, to clear my throat endlessly as my discomfort at being present when I had no idea why I was even here prodded me over and over to ask the obvious question. The problem being that, from the moment we walked into said council hall and realized the full ensemble of Reading’s fine elected members of government sat, rigid and watchful, Crew had gone silent, stubbornly so.
Vivian had taken her good old time, the only hold-out, joining us. When her assistant, Hugh (yes, I still thought of him as Olivia’s assistant, so sue me) gestured for my sheriff fiancé to take the center position—standing—and motioned for me to join Jill and Rosebert—at least they weren’t rifling through my house at the moment, one tiny saving grace—I’d stumbled my way to the aside without argument, though you can bet complaints and demands for answers were brewing the longer I stood there.
No one said a word to Crew, the jerks. I wanted to rejoin him, a show of solidarity, but when my body wavered I felt Jill’s hand grasp my wrist and caught her barely perceptible headshake.
Read, moving to his defense wouldn’t do him any favors.
Fine. So be it. But this redhead’s temper was riding the razor’s edge, and I wasn’t afraid to use it.
The side door opened, Vivian sweeping her elegant way into the chamber, all icy cold perfection and blank stares and blah, blah, blah. I shot her daggers with my own gaze, a fact she chose to ignore at her own peril, taking her seat in the center of the gathered councilors who perched so high and mighty over the rest of us while I simmered and bubbled and thought about Mom’s lava references.
Mt. Fleming would erupt. When depended entirely on the pinched-faced and judging assembly before me.
“Crew Turner and deputies of the Reading Sheriff’s Department.” How hideously formal of her. Vivian’s voice rang out as she spoke like we couldn’t hear her. Oh, I was hearing her just fine.
“Excuse me,” I interrupted, hand in the air, not caring even a tiny little fraction of a crap that Jill groaned softly next to me, that all eyes flickered in my direction and gave me focus, that Vivian’s lips tightened just enough I knew cutting her off undermined her authority. Wicked. Let the good times roll. “I’m wondering what the hell it is I’m doing here,” I said then, “on the eve of my wedding when I’m not even a deputy.”
Vivian locked gazes with me and, with that same crisp and overly supported tone I wanted to shove down her throat so far it made wrinkles in her perfect dress, told me something I really didn’t want to hear. “According to town records, Fiona Fleming,” she said, still official, “you remain on the roster of deputies and have since you were granted that position in September.”
I was what? “I handed in my badge.” O
kay, now I was off center and spluttering and shaking my head, hating that I’d lost my strong stance and felt reduced to blithering idiot.
She shrugged, that tiny and dismissive gesture of hers that gave me the most angst and triggered my anger all over again.
“And yet,” she said, sounding bored now, “you remain. For some reason.”
That was it. If you’ll pardon the pun? The Queen of Wheat was toast.
“Now then,” she went on as if I hadn’t spoken and wasn’t even remotely interesting, “to the matter at hand. It has become increasingly apparent to this council the leadership of our sheriff’s department has been sorely lacking from the moment the mantel was placed in the care of Crew Turner.” Wow, Vivian, way to be a total and utter bitch. There was so much I wanted to say to that but it was hard to focus with Jill pinching me in the exact spot I’d pinched Crew back at Petunia’s. Damn it, was she going to let Vivian throw my love under a bus? I wasn’t going to stand by and—
Vivian was far from done. “While leeway was allowed during the previous administration, it was decided upon my ascension to the mayoral seat that one more botched investigation during Mr. Turner’s watch would result in immediate termination.”
My heart thudded painfully in my chest. She’d called him Mr. Turner. And despite the fact I was fighting it tooth and nail inside my head, it was clear where this was going even if I wanted to shout out the reasons why they were all smug asshats who couldn’t solve a crime if it presented a confession personally.
I know, I know. That made zero sense. I wasn’t exactly in the frame of mind to string coherent thoughts together, so cut me some slack.
“Mr. Turner,” Vivian went on, as coldly as I’d ever heard her, “your incompetence has known no limits and, over the past four years, you have left it up to private investigation and amateurs to deal with the crimes you, yourself, have been responsible to solve.” The fact people died in town had nothing to do with Crew. This was ridiculous and Vivian had to be aware of it. Was using it as an excuse to get rid of him, they all were.
Not to mention the fact she did not just publically humiliate the man I loved. She wanted murder? I’d be happy to show her what it looked and felt like up close and personal. “It is this council’s ruling—and mine, personally—that you have not been and, certainly, will never be, a suitable choice for sheriff of our department. And so, from this moment on, you are released from your employment and active duty.” She frowned then, looking down at papers in front of her before meeting his eyes. “To our deep disappointment.”
Two things and two things alone saved Vivian from a sudden and painful end at my hands. The fact that Geoffrey was grinning beside her like he was enjoying the show, and, even more telling, Robert’s reaction to the events and her proclamation.
“Finally!” My cousin stepped forward, shouldering Crew aside before my fiancé had a chance to respond, hands on his hips just under the roll-over of his growing belly. “I take it the perfect candidate for his replacement has been chosen?” Because Robert—poor deluded, ridiculous, idiot Robert—clearly thought that was himself.
Thing was, despite knowing how absolutely farcical such a suggestion even was? This was Reading, wasn’t it? And the likelihood he’d end up with Crew’s job and office?
So real I could taste it like bile in the back of my throat.
And that, my friends, was the moment the Patterson’s plan went… sideways. Because as Geoffrey opened his mouth, his smile firmly affixed, lazy hand wave at Robert a clear sign of agreement pending a verbal confirmation, Vivian spoke up.
Shutting everyone down.
“There are three deputies in Reading at the moment,” she said, her tone unchanged, her challenge obvious as we all gaped at her—Robert the most shocked, since he obviously thought he’d been handed a golden ticket and was likely promised as much—Vivian went on. “A terrible tragedy has again struck our town.” She shuffled her papers, the light catching the French manicure she always wore before her hands settled again, the only sign of her agitation. If it even was that. “It is my decision that in order to select the perfect new sheriff for Reading, we must endeavor to choose that deputy with the talent, skill and intuition necessary to not only solve this horrible crime, but to do so quickly and with careful thought to the continuing good name of this place we call home.” She looked up then, chin a bit higher than normal while Geoffrey stared at her, his blank expression telling me she was so off book by that point he was going to make sure she was punished for it.
Vivian didn’t seem to care as she locked gazes with me. A gaze that told me a lot in a very short period of time. Things like, “I had no choice, Fee. Don’t be angry with me. I had to fire Crew, they wouldn’t allow for anything else. But I’m giving you the chance to make this work for you, for us. Don’t screw it up.”
All between one slow blink and the next.
“In the interim, I am appointing Fiona Fleming as acting sheriff,” Vivian said while the collective council gasped softly. But there were enough smiles and nods in my direction I knew she’d made that choice with carefully weighted calculations. “Though, she, like Deputies Wagner and Carlisle—”
“And Norton,” Rose piped up, like anyone wanted to hear from her.
“No,” Vivian said, not even looking at the now furious woman. “Your position was appointed by another deputy, making your addition inadmissible.”
Um, considering the fact Vivian was likely making this up as she went along, such a rule was kind of ridiculous but no one argued, and Rose backed down, so yeah, I guess there was a new sheriff in town.
Dear god. That sheriff was me.
“The full-time, permanent position will be awarded to the deputy who solves this murder and brings proof to the council of said murderer.” Wait, did she know for sure it was murder? I’d jumped the gun myself on many the occasion without knowing for sure.
“Dr. Aberstock hasn’t confirmed that yet,” I said, knowing I wasn’t making her life any easier and not really caring.
Vivian froze, then nodded. “Agreed,” she said. “Bring me confirmation, then, Sheriff Fleming.” She stood, the council standing with her, before she finished. “Yet again we find ourselves embroiled in a,” she paused but pushed on anyway, “murder investigation,” Vivian said while the other council members muttered and nodded, like this was my fault. “Sheriff.” Vivian didn’t look up, her voice so low I saw more than one of the witnesses to this little unfolding performance strain forward to hear her. Her tone rose as she looked up, pale eyes snapping. “I expect you to step up and take care of this problem ASAP. Or I’ll be finding you a replacement. Are we clear?”
Déjà vu, right? Remember our little leap ahead in time? Well, here we go again.
“Mayor French,” I said, hating this meant betraying Crew, forcing myself to trust her when all I wanted to do was walk out of there and say screw it to her, to the council, to Reading as a whole. Instead, I nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
Vivian left, the council exiting after her, Terri waving at me with that same attempt at a smile I ignored yet again in favor of heading for Crew because no amount of pinching my arm was going to allow Jill to keep me from the man I loved.
He met my eyes, his own blue ones empty, calm. The phone call he’d received. Was it from Vivian? He seemed pretty collected, as if he’d known what was coming. Did she warn him in advance? And, if so, why didn’t he warn me?
I was going to kick his very handsome butt if that was the case.
“Not here,” he whispered. “You did the right thing.” I almost choked on that. “Just handle assignments for the case and I’ll meet you at home.” He paused one more moment. “You got this, Fee.” And then, with his head high, shoulders back, Crew turned and left the council room and I had to just stand there and watch him go.
Taking my breaking heart with him.
***
Chapter Ten
Jill’s mournful expression wasn’t helping any a
s I crossed to join her and Rosebert, those two closing ranks and glaring at me like this was my idea.
Let them. I had a job to do. And no way was I doing it with this crew. Ack. Bad choice of words. I whipped out my phone as I stopped beside Jill and dialed a familiar number, knowing there was a 50/50 chance he wouldn’t answer if he was already distracted.
To my surprise, Dad picked up almost immediately. “I heard,” he growled. “Grapevine. Viv made you sheriff?” Why did it sound like he was trying not to laugh?
“If you’d please get yourself to the sheriff’s office,” I ground out through clenched teeth, “Deputy Fleming,” let him chew on that a minute as Robert grunted like I’d kicked him somewhere it hurt a lot, “I’ll brief you on the case.”
It wasn’t very often I got the drop on my father. From the brief silence on the other end of the line, I had a sudden worry I’d given him a stroke or some debilitating ailment from sheer shock. Instead, a breath later, he burst into laughter like this was the greatest joke in the history of hilarious missteps and comic timings.
“I’ll see you shortly, Sheriff,” he said around more laughter before hanging up on me.
Jill’s wide eyes but barely there smile told me she approved whole-heartedly of what I’d just done. As for Rosebert, they could screw off and go do whatever it was that kept them out of my way and from bungling this case completely before I could solve it.
Wait, I was going to solve it? And become sheriff for real? Nope, no way, not in a million years. And yet, that was Vivian’s plan, apparently.
We’d just see about that. Especially considering the tall, broad-shouldered blonde in front of me who’d made a fine deputy under both my father and my fiancé deserved to wear the badge of honor, thank you very much. Not me.