“The hell she has.”
Whirling back to Andi, the inspector tried to bluff his way out. “Look, your ex wanted my advice on what he could do to get the shop open and you off his ass. Those were his exact words. I’m telling you, he practically reached over and stuffed the money in my shirt pocket.”
“Funny, it plays differently on the video.”
“Video?” Talbot’s face turned gray under his Florida tan. “What video?”
“The one I shot while you two were having your man-to-man chat. I left the tape in the camera,” she said, directing his attention to the camcorder with a sweep of one hand. “I thought you might like to watch the replay before I show it to the mayor.”
The inspector’s eyes cut to Andi’s face. The combination of anger and desperation she saw in them reminded her all too forcefully of Dave’s warning about junkyard dogs.
“All right,” he ground out. “Guess we can both play this game. How much do you want for that tape?”
“It’s not for sale.”
“Sure it is,” he countered roughly. “The first rule in business is to turn a profit whenever you can. Here’s your chance. How much?”
Dave came out of his chair. “You heard the lady, Talbot. The tape isn’t for sale.”
Wayne rose, as well, a look of intense satisfaction on his face. Andi suspected he’d put up with too much crap from the inspector over the years to be left out of the fun.
“You put the squeeze on the wrong folks this time, Talbot. Now I suggest you return your two-hundred-dollar commission and start looking for another part-time job. After Ms. Armstrong and I talk to the mayor, you won’t be conducting any more building inspections in Gulf Springs. And don’t try to play any more games with her business permit. We all heard you say the shop met specs.”
Red rushed into Talbot’s cheeks. Without another word, he dragged the folded bills out of his pocket. His face was ugly when he slapped them on the counter and slammed out the front door.
“I think we just put a serious dent in the man’s day,” Andi commented as his truck tore away from the curb.
“Day, week and month,” Wayne agreed.
Dave didn’t appear as elated as they were at the outcome. Frowning, he followed Talbot’s truck until it disappeared around a corner.
“You’ve made an enemy there, Andi. You’d better check six for a while.”
“I always watch my back,” she returned, already leaping ahead to the next steps in her master plan.
Books! Now she could order her initial stock of books. And call the sign maker to confirm delivery. And contact the part-timer who wanted to work for her. And fix a date for her store opening. And e-mail Roger Brent.
Oh, God! If she could nail the thriller author for the grand opening…
Almost dancing with impatience, she grabbed her purse.
“I’m off to see Bernice. Then I’ll deliver the video to the mayor. Want to drive over with me, Wayne?”
“You bet.”
Her mind buzzing, Andi stuffed the camcorder in her bag and treated Dave to a hundred-watt smile. “Thanks for playing the heavy for me, Armstrong.”
“Anytime, Armstrong.”
“I owe you one.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“You’ll have to tell me how I can square things between us.”
His mouth curved. “I’ll give it serious consideration.”
WHEN ANDI WAVED HER copy of the approved final inspection at Bernice, the beaming town clerk waddled to her computer and printed out the business permit on the spot.
When she played the video in the office of the used-car dealership owned by the man currently serving as Gulf Springs’s mayor, Al Frost’s reaction was more tempered.
“I’ve heard rumors about Talbot,” he admitted, scratching his chin. “Never could get anyone to step forward and separate rumor from fact.”
“I’d say the video does just that,” Andi replied, “in digital sound and color.”
“It’s pretty damning, all right. I’m just not sure it’s enough to prosecute. I’ll have to consult with the attorney we keep on retainer and lay the matter before the other members of the town council.”
“I’ve accomplished my goals. I’ll leave the rest to you and the council.”
“Speaking of which…”
Frost tipped back in his chair. Unlike most of his constituents, he’d somehow managed to avoid acquiring any trace of a tan. As a result, the liver spots dotting his pale skin stood out like swatted flies.
“One of our council members up and quit last month. I’ve been looking for someone to fill his unexpired term. You interested?”
“Good Lord, no!”
Frost didn’t appear to take offense at the somewhat less than polite response. Smiling, he enlisted the man seated beside Andi in his cause.
“Jacobs here has been singing your praises ever since you decided to open shop in Gulf Springs. From what I hear, you possess just the kind of top-level management and financial savvy we need on the council.”
She gave the leasing agent a dry look. “Thanks a lot, friend.”
Unrepentant, Wayne jumped on the bandwagon. “Al’s right. You’d be a terrific addition to the council.”
“Not while I’m trying to get my business up and running.”
“Most all the councilmen operate some sort of enterprise,” Frost put in. “You could network with other business owners while serving your community.”
Andi hadn’t put roots down deep enough yet to feel a real connection to the Gulf Springs community, but she certainly understood the concept of service. She also understood the value of networking. Still, she had enough on her plate right now without adding town politics.
“I moved here a little over two months ago. I would think you’d want someone more familiar with the town making decisions that impact its growth and direction.”
“Longtime residents we’ve got. What we need is an infusion of new ideas and energy. We only meet once a month,” the mayor cajoled. “Second Thursday, seven o’clock at the Elks Hall.”
That was next week. Andi guessed what was coming before Al Frost issued the formal invitation.
“The meeting’s open to the public. Why don’t you stop by, watch your councilmen in action? Maybe they can convince you to join them.”
“I’ve got a lot to do, but I guess I could poke my head in for a few minutes.”
“Good enough.”
Chair springs creaking, the mayor/used-car dealer rose and came around his desk to shake her hand.
“Whatever your decision and the outcome of my discussion with our attorney, I appreciate you bringing the matter to my attention. That’s not how we want to do business in Gulf Springs.”
WHEN SUE ELLEN STOPPED by on her way home from work later that evening, Andi had already fixed on two possible store-opening dates and zinged an e-mail off to Roger Brent. While intermittently checking her computer for a reply, she filled S.E. in on the sting.
“Darn! I wish I’d been there. I would have loved to see you and Dave go at it, even if it was for the camera.”
Shedding her suit jacket, the blonde kicked off her stiletto heels and dropped into a chair. The overhead lights glinted on the satiny sheen of her panty hose as she swung both legs over the chair arm.
Andi decided then and there that one of the biggest benefits of being her own boss was the freedom to set her own dress code. With a little skill and cunning, she’d never have to skinny into another pair of panty hose.
“You have to show me that tape,” Sue Ellen pleaded.
“I will.”
After she’d edited out the sequence where she’d paid the interest on Dave’s two hundred. She wasn’t ready to explain the lip-lock to Sue Ellen.
She distracted her friend with a bag of Cheetos and a chuckle. “You’re not going to believe what happened when I played the video for the mayor.”
“He offered you a job as chief of police?” S.E. said
around a mouthful of cheese curls.
“Close. He asked me to fill an empty seat on the town council.”
“Good grief! You didn’t agree, did you?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I agreed to attend the next meeting and see how they operate.”
“Oh, Andi, don’t let them suck you in. I work with elected officials every day on some labor issue or another. Trust me, you don’t want to get involved in small-town politics.”
“The mayor made some valid points, Sue Ellen. If I’m going to live and run a business in Gulf Springs, I should give back to the community.”
“What’s to give back? You haven’t taken anything out of the community yet.”
“I will—or hope I will—as soon as I open my shop doors.”
Excitement bubbled again. Reaching over, Andi plunged into the bag of Cheetos and grabbed a handful.
“I’m putting in my initial book order tomorrow. This time next week I’ll be up to my ears in boxes and ISBNs.”
“What’s an is-ben?”
“Shorthand for International Standard Book Number. It’s a ten-or thirteen-digit number bar-coded on the cover that identifies the book title, publisher and recommended retail price. I’ll use it to manage my sales and inventory.”
“Have you decided on your grand opening date yet?”
“I’m looking at the second Saturday in October, with the third Saturday as a fallback.”
“Yikes! That’s less than a month away. Will you be ready by then?”
“I’ll have to be.” She paused for dramatic effect. “If Roger Brent is available. If not, the date might slip.”
Sue Ellen popped upright. “The Roger Brent? Author of Blood Sport and Death Squad and Tango Sierra? He’s coming for your grand opening?”
“I hope so.”
“How the heck did you pull that off?”
“I didn’t. Chief Goodwin did. Which reminds me— I promised you’d be nice to him, Sue Ellen.”
“Brent or Goodwin?”
“Goodwin.”
“Ugh.”
“Just look over his paperwork, okay? Expedite it if possible.”
Sue Ellen mumbled something about crusty old farts with more push than pull but grudgingly agreed.
“You’re going to have to hump to be ready by October, girl.”
“Tell me about it! The next critical item on my agenda is to interview the part-timer I told you about. If she’s still interested and available, I’m going to have her start when the books come in. The two of us should be able to scan and shelve the whole order in a few days.”
“I can help.”
“I appreciate the offer, but you already have a full-time job.”
“So? You can’t cut me out now. I’m having almost as much fun as you are, even if it’s vicarious.”
“I have no intention of cutting you out. In fact, if you’re not too tired, I was hoping to bounce some ideas off you on ways to advertise the grand opening.”
“Bounce away.”
One silk-clad leg swinging, Sue Ellen crunched down Cheetos while Andi laid out her PR plan.
“If Brent can make the opening, I’m home free. Joe— Chief Goodwin—thinks his publisher will run radio and TV promos. If not, I’ll try for another local author. I’ve already reserved ad space in the local and base newspapers. Since I’m catering to a largely military population, I thought the ads could include a discount coupon for anyone with a military ID.”
“Oh, that’s good. Everyone clips coupons these days.”
Andi restrained a hoot. She doubted Sue Ellen Carson had ever clipped a coupon in her life.
“I also plan to print up flyers and do a bulk mailing.”
“How much does that cost?”
“A bunch, but I feel better about mailing out flyers than hiring kids to distribute them door-to-door. There are too many crazies out there.”
“True.” Catlike, Sue Ellen licked orange goo from her fingers. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we work the air show at Pensacola Naval Air Station? We could buy a booth and hand out the flyers there.”
Andi had seen the TV and newspaper spots for the upcoming air show but hadn’t thought to link it to her grand opening. She grasped the possibilities immediately, along with the problems.
“Booths at air shows are usually reserved for on-base activities like the Scouts or the photography club.”
“Usually,” S.E. agreed, “but not always. Defense contractors like Boeing or Raytheon always buy space to display their latest ray guns or hovercrafts. You may not be in the same category as the big guys, but you’re providing a service to the military community. Or maybe you could link to an on-base activity like the library.”
“Maybe.”
“Come on, Colonel. You of all people should know how to work the system.”
Andi squirmed, uncomfortable with the idea of manipulating any system or using her rank for personal gain. Still, she had to remember she was in business now, out to make a buck like everyone else in the civilian world.
“I’ll check into it.”
“Do that. Crash says the Blue Angels are performing at the air show. They always draw a monster crowd.”
“Sounds like you and Major Steadman are conversing on a regular basis these days.”
“I promised to call him back after my mad dash to the ER last night,” Sue Ellen said with a shrug. “We stayed on the line for a while.”
“Define while.”
“An hour, maybe less.”
“Oh, reeee-lly?”
“Yes, really. By the way, care to explain why your former husband had his hands under your hospital gown when I walked in?”
“Never mind the diversionary tactics. Tell me about you and Crash.”
“There isn’t much to tell. I called. We talked. He invited me to a dining out at Whiting Field next week.”
Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Andi weighed her friendship with Sue Ellen against the one and only time Bill Steadman had opened up about the accident that had claimed his wife. His grief—and raw, searing guilt—had stayed with Andi for weeks afterward.
“You know Bill’s a widower, right?”
“Yes, you told me. I mentioned something about his wife the other night, when we were here for dinner. He sort of shut down on me.”
“He took her death hard.”
“So you said. And obviously still isn’t over it. That’s okay. I’m not looking for a deep, meaningful relationship with him or anyone else.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Sex, girl, sex. The raunchier the better.” Stretching her legs, Sue Ellen wiggled her nylon-covered toes back and forth. “Looks like I’ll have to sit through a long, boring dining out before I have my way with the boy, but I suspect he’ll be worth it.”
“Clearly you’ve never attended a helo squadron dining out. Long and boring they ain’t.”
“Mmm.”
Lost in anticipation of a possible postparty orgy, S.E. contemplated her toes.
Andi, in turn, contemplated her friend. She and Sue Ellen had been as close as sisters for more than ten years and had seen each other through some very rough patches. Yet she’d worked with Crash and knew how deep his scars went. She hoped she wasn’t setting either of her friends up for another fall.
With another lazy stretch, Sue Ellen broke into her thoughts. “So tell me. What were Dave’s hands doing under your hospital gown last night?”
CHAPTER 12
The e-mail from Roger Brent was waiting in the laptop’s in-box when Andi got up the next morning. Yes, he was available the second Saturday in October. Even better, his publisher had agreed to an early release of his new hardback, Return to Aravanche, to coincide with his appearance.
Whooping, Andi danced through the entire house before putting in a call to Chief Goodwin. She must have dragged him out of the shower, as she could hear water splashing in the bac
kground. At least she hoped it was the water. With Special Tactics, you never knew.
“Joe! It’s Andi. Brent’s a go. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. When’s he coming over?”
“Saturday, October eleventh, from eleven to one.”
“I should be able to make it. If not, don’t forget my autographed copy.”
“I won’t.”
Fired by an enthusiasm and energy she hadn’t felt in years, Andi jumped into action. That same morning she dashed off e-mails and followed up with calls to her Ingram distributor.
After placing her initial book order, she wrote ad copy, designed flyers and called the sign maker to order a banner announcing her grand opening, which he promised to deliver with the shop sign. With those critical actions completed, she worked the phones and Internet to notify various chambers of commerce of her grand opening. She kept so busy over the next few days she almost forgot her regularly scheduled blood test and had to dash over to Hurlburt to get it done on the run.
In the midst of this whirlwind of activity she hired her first and only employee. Andi had met Karen Duchek at a dark and somewhat dank used bookstore specializing in horror and occult. Karen was bright and bubbly, with a generous set of curves to match her smile. She’d confessed that she found some of the customers just a little strange and was ready for a change in employment.
Andi arranged for them to meet at the shop at nine-thirty. Deciding she needed to look at least semibusiness-like, she traded her jeans and tank top for a short-sleeved cotton sweater in dusty rose, drawstring slacks in a darker pink and beaded flip-flops. Her hair had grown enough to sweep up in a twist and anchor with a clip.
She had coffee and a selection of gooey delights from the doughnut hut down the street waiting when the mother of two pulled up in a dinged minivan. Andi had reviewed her résumé and had already decided to hire her, but Karen sealed the deal with the first word out of her mouth.
“Wow!”
Jaw sagging, the gingery redhead performed a slow pirouette. Andi swallowed a silly lump of pride as she viewed her creation through the younger woman’s eyes.
Light poured through the plate glass window. Feathery palms and ficuses formed inviting alcoves for the chairs and computer stations scattered around the shop. Rack after rack of bookshelves stood ready and waiting.
Ex Marks the Spot (Harlequin Next) Page 12