The Gossip

by Nancy Bush

  After a few bites, Taft gave Mac a speculative look. She noticed the dark lashes that framed the icy blue depths of his eyes. In her limited experience good-looking men were wrapped up in layers of ego. The jury was still out on Taft, but she couldn’t think of one good reason he would be any different from Pete Fetzler, the last guy she’d been with, who was all front and no rear. Pete could sure put out the advertisement, but there was never any follow-through. The worst part was, she’d suspected it from the start and had dated him anyway. She liked to think of herself as above being swayed by good looks, but she’d really fallen off her high horse on that one.

  “Want to work together?” Taft asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin. The movement brought attention to his mouth. The shape of his lips seemed embedded on her retina.

  “On this case?”

  “I could use someone.”

  “What do I get out of it?”

  He barked out a laugh. “My expertise?”

  She sensed she was being led down the primrose path. Still . . . “What would I have to do?”

  “Sometimes I have to be two places at the same time. Since you’re already watching Seth, it could free me up to do something else. I have other . . . jobs.”

  “Clients?”

  “I work for different people at different times.”

  “I have a feeling your expertise isn’t going to be enough for me.”

  “I’ll pay you,” he said.

  “How much?”

  “What do you think you’re worth?”

  Mackenzie said slowly, “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

  They stared each other down. After several long moments, Mac said, “You make me feel like I’m about to dance with the devil.”

  “That sounds vaguely like a yes. Is it a yes?”

  “Yes.”

  He reached for another piece of pizza and pushed the rest her way, even though she’d barely touched her first slice. “Want another beer while we get down to it?”

  “Yes,” she said again. What the hell. She was already on the path.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “How did you know I occasionally drink light beer?” H asked Mac as she sat back in her chair. She’d made it through one piece of pizza. Normally she would eat two and eye a third, but Taft had put her on edge.

  “I know people.”

  Ah. Okay. “Ricky. Bryan ‘Ricky’ Richards. My ex-partner,” she guessed.

  “Ricky . . .” He cocked his head and thought that over.

  “He became one of Prudence Mangella’s surrogates during the ‘stolen’ jewelry that was in the pawn shops. She relied on Ricky and he let her.”

  “That guy’s your partner?” Taft’s brows lifted. “The one Pru flattered and pretended interest in.”

  “Ex-partner,” she reminded. “And yes.”

  He shook his head. “I know other people.”

  “Someone at the department.” She didn’t wait for his answer, just listed everyone she could think of at the River Glen PD, but Taft didn’t react to any of the names.

  “I’m an investigator,” he said, shrugging it off.

  Mackenzie formed the words to point out that she’d hardly ever talked to him before today. That she didn’t see how he could know so much about her without a deep dive into who she was. But she decided to let the questions wither on her tongue. The truth was, she was kind of flattered that he’d taken the time to note that small detail about herself.

  After a long silence, Taft spread his hands and said, “Okay, I saw you pouring Tecate Light into a glass at Mexicali Rose. You were with a woman with hair pulled up into a bun who’s about your same age and a man, likely her husband, based on the wedding bands, with a trimmed beard, no mustache, left-handed, wearing a Best Homes jacket.”

  “That had to be two years ago,” Mackenzie said, not quite able to hide her surprise. “My stepsister and her husband. I didn’t see you.”

  “I was in the restaurant,” he said offhandedly. Mackenzie took a swallow of her now warm beer, needing a moment to think. He’d impressed her. She had a lot of half-formed ideas about him, some not so great, but he’d definitely risen in her opinion with that one. “Nolan doesn’t work for Best Homes anymore. He’s with Laidlaw Construction.”

  “Didn’t get along with Best?”

  “Didn’t get along with Best,” she agreed.

  “What happened with Bennihof?”

  She should have figured they’d get back to that again. She shook her head. “I’m not going there.”

  “Hmm.”

  But she couldn’t help herself from asking, “How’d you know about him?”

  “Open secret.”

  “Open secret, my ass,” she said. “Someone would’ve told me.”

  “There was a woman in dispatch I knew who found herself alone with him in his office after hours.”

  Mackenzie blinked several times. “After hours . . . ?”

  He eyed her shrewdly. “I’m guessing you had a similar experience.”

  The woman who was currently in dispatch, Barbara Erdlich, was built like a fifty-gallon drum and tough as nails. She was affectionately known as the Battle-axe and enjoyed the moniker, apparently, as she even addressed herself with the same pejorative and glared down anyone who tried to suggest it was improper. The woman before her, however, had been young and exceptionally pretty. She’d only worked a week or two while Mackenzie was on the job, then she was gone and the Battle-axe took over. Now Mac wondered if the Battle-axe had been purposely hired. Maybe more people knew about Bennihof than she thought. “What was her name?” asked Mac.

  “Katy.”

  “That’s right. I didn’t know she left because of Bennihof.”

  “She’ll only tell you that if she’s drunk enough.”

  “Oh.” Mackenzie tried not to roll her eyes.

  “It wasn’t like that. I interviewed her, several times. That’s all.”

  “Sure.”

  “I told her she should Me-Too him. Exposing him’s the only way he’ll leave. She didn’t want to.”

  “If that look is because you think I should’ve been the one to do that, put it to rest. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t get that far,” said Mac.

  “I’m not giving you a look.”

  “Yeah.” She snorted.

  “You quit the job.”

  “Because it wasn’t working for me.” She hesitated. “And it wasn’t going to work for me in the future, either.”

  He lifted his palms.

  “Why do you want Bennihof out so badly?” she asked.

  “He’s bad for the department as a whole, bad for morale, bad for any woman he sets his sights on. I don’t like guys like that.”

  He’d left two different police departments on bad terms and might have his own axe to grind. “Bad for the department?” she questioned.

  He didn’t rise to the bait, said instead, “I’ve seen my share of those guys, in one form or another, in one job or another. Political appointments, mainly, though a lot of them don’t make it to chief. I don’t have a lot of success with them, and I don’t have any respect.”

  “Okay.”

  “A lot of good cops out there. I wouldn’t call Bennihof a cop. I left the job . . . or it was suggested I leave the job . . .” His smile was ironic. “But I didn’t leave the work. I’m still investigating, which is why we’re here.”

  He’d unfolded himself from the chair and his height made her feel small, so she scrambled to her feet as well. He stuck out his hand and she cautiously did as well. They shook hands.

  “So, am I on for surveilling Seth and Patti, starting tomorrow . . . morning?” she asked.

  “As much as you can keep tabs on them. He’s dealing the stuff. Maybe she is, too. They’re going to make some move soon. It’s like they know they’re being tailed, so maybe they caught me at it.” He said it like there was no way for that to be true. “Whatever the case, something will break. I’m counting on you to take thi
s seriously.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. Keep in contact. If something happens, let me know. Otherwise we’ll circle back in about a week?”

  “Sounds good.”

  He nodded and held the door. She walked out ahead of him, inhaling deeply as she passed, far too aware that she liked the clean, male scent of him.

  As soon as she was in her SUV she headed toward Seth and Patti’s place, needing to assure herself that they were still in their current rut of work, home, and the Waystation. The lights were dimmed but she could see the flickering of the television and more importantly, Seth’s truck in the driveway.

  Satisfied, Mac drove back to Mom’s house. She would make keeping eyes on Seth and Patti a priority for Taft, but she hadn’t forgotten Bibi’s request to find out what had happened to Rayne Sealy. Though Bibi had pointed to Seth, the ex-boyfriend, as a likely place to start, there were other avenues of investigation as well. Mac had planned to try to interview Seth and see what he knew about Rayne, but she was going to put that off for a bit now. Other people knew Rayne. Other people who worked for the Coffee Club and there was Rayne’s mother and her sister, who Bibi had said still lived together in River Glen. Mac had the address. It was possible that they had information on the mysterious boyfriend among other things. She hoped to interview them soon, although they were playing a little fast and loose about getting together. Nobody appeared to be all that concerned about what had happened to Rayne. Mackenzie had gone to Rayne’s apartment and learned that she’d told the manager she was leaving, given her thirty-day notice, only to take off both early and shy of a few days’ rent. Maybe it was true that she’d just disappeared with her latest Mr. Right. It definitely seemed to be within her modus operandi.

  * * *

  Monday morning Emma stood behind the counter at Theo’s Thrift Shop, her place of work. Theo had arranged the donated clothing on metal rounders and there were stacks of items on tables, folded shirts, pants, shorts, toys, and household goods. Bigger items were in the back or along the wall. There was one bike that Emma liked. She didn’t have anywhere to ride it, but she thought maybe she should use one. She could see herself riding along with Duchess trotting beside her.

  As if discerning her mistress’s thoughts, Duchess looked up at her from where she was lying next to the counter and gave Emma the eye before turning her attention toward the front door. She liked to watch. At first Theo had resisted Emma bringing Duchess to work, but Emma couldn’t leave her at Ridge Pointe every day and make someone else take care of her. Realizing the issue, Theo had allowed Emma to bring Duchess as long as the dog behaved herself. Duchess got along with Dummy . . . well, Bartholomew, Theo’s little dog, so it worked out okay, and luckily, Duchess seemed to get it. She was well behaved at work, and well behaved at Ridge Pointe, except when it came to the cat.

  “Twinkletoes,” Emma muttered in disgust. No, that was not the cat’s name.

  The door opened and a mom with two young blond-haired daughters entered. Emma recognized her. She came in once in a while by herself, once in a while with her kids.

  “Is Theo here?” the woman asked, craning her neck to look around.

  Emma hesitated. Theo was out picking up lunch, but she didn’t like people thinking Emma was alone. That’s why she kept the television on low in the back room to one of those stations where people yakked, yakked, yakked about politics. Emma didn’t think much of politics. She preferred food shows and was still glum over the fact that all her favorite episodes had been erased when her sister upgraded their cable subscription and got new DVR boxes. But now, at her own place at Ridge Pointe, she’d found a few new shows that were pretty good and she was filling up her own DVR. She was proud of the fact she was a good programmer. A lot of people at Ridge Pointe weren’t.

  “I’m Kendra. I don’t know if you know me?” the woman asked, looking at Emma anxiously. There were deep lines in her forehead.

  Emma shook her head.

  “I keep hoping you’ll have children’s bikes. They’ve outgrown the ones they have. You’d think the girls were twins, but they’re not. They’re just the same size. It’s a problem.”

  “We have one bike,” Emma said. It was hard to get the words out. She didn’t want the bike to leave. But it wasn’t her bike. It was the thrift shop’s.

  “Oh, I know. That one’s too big. Theo said if one came in in a children’s size that she would let me know.”

  “None came in,” said Emma.

  Kendra tilted her head a bit, as if to really check Emma out. This happened a lot. When people looked at her strangely Emma knew she’d said something wrong somehow. Jamie had told her that it was her deadpan delivery. “It sometimes stops people. They’re not sure if you’re serious or you’re putting them on,” her sister had explained.

  “I’m always serious,” Emma had responded, affronted.

  “I know that, Emma. But they don’t know that.”

  “I’ll tell them I have a problem,” Emma had assured her.

  Jamie had screwed up her face and said, “I don’t think you need to say that. Just, if they look unsure? Like they want to ask a question, but don’t know quite how? Tell them you mean what you say.”

  “That I’m serious.”

  “Exactly. You don’t have to give them your life story. Just make them feel comfortable.”

  Now Kendra looked longingly over at the bike. One of the girls was reaching toward a pile of toys and just as Kendra turned toward her, she picked up a big bag of blocks that she couldn’t handle.

  “Paige! Stop!” Kendra yelled, as all the colored blocks crashed out of the bag and onto the wood floor, making a huge clatter.

  Duchess barked and Emma put her hands over her ears before she could stop herself.

  “Sorry, sorry!” the little girl cried as Emma dropped her hands and shushed Duchess, who’d jumped to her feet.

  Kendra rushed over to the girl. “Oh, Paige,” she sighed. She looked at Duchess and Emma. “I’m sorry. I’m just so . . . I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” said Emma as Duchess lay back down, her chin on her paws, watching.

  The other little girl rushed over. Paige broke into sniffles and cried, “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to!”

  “Mom told us not to touch anything,” the second girl tattled.

  “I can handle this, Brianne,” Kendra said, exasperated.

  Emma went over to help pick up. She looked down at the yellow, blue, red, and green blocks that Kendra was feverishly grabbing up and trying to put in the bag. There was, however, a big hole in the bag’s netting and the blocks kept tumbling out. “That isn’t going to work,” said Emma.

  “I’m really sorry.” Kendra kept putting blocks in the bag, oblivious to the fact that as soon as there were enough of them, they would squeeze out through the hole.

  “I’m serious,” said Emma.

  “I promise I’ll take care of it,” Kendra said shortly. She gave Paige and Brianne a mean look.

  “I didn’t do anything!” Brianne shrieked as Paige started to cry again.

  “There’s a hole in the bag,” said Emma.

  Kendra shot her a dark look. “What?”

  “There’s a hole in the bag. Just leave the blocks on the floor. We need a new bag.”

  “Oh . . .” Kendra looked flustered for a moment, saw what Emma meant, and straightened to full height. “Okay, well, then I guess we’ll just go. I . . . tell Theo I was here. I’ll come back tomorrow. I just really need . . . Wait. Let me leave my number.”

  Emma went to the counter and ripped off a sticky note from its pad. Kendra scratched down her number and then she hustled the two girls out the door as if she couldn’t bear to stay another minute.

  When Theo returned about ten minutes later Emma was just finishing picking up the blocks and putting them in a paper bag instead of the navy netting. Theo was holding Dummy . . . Bartholomew . . . under one arm and a paper plate with a sandwich covered in plastic wra
p in her other hand. She set the paper plate on the counter for Emma.

  “What happened?” Theo asked. Theo had gray hair and was small and wiry. Dummy was the same and he was trying to scramble out of Theo’s arms to Emma. Emma took the dog, who tried to wash her face with his tongue. He was one of the main reasons Emma had gotten Duchess. Jamie had seen that Emma wanted a dog and so Emma, Jamie, and Jamie’s daughter, Harley, had trooped to the dog place that Jamie’s friend had recommended and voilà!, there was Duchess.

  “Voilà,” Emma said as Duchess lifted her head and stared hard at the wriggling dog Emma placed on the ground. Dummy raced over to Duchess, tail snapping back and forth. Duchess rolled her eyes up at Emma. Emma knew sometimes that Duchess felt Dummy was a little too much. That’s what Mom used to say before she died. “Emma, that’s just a little too much.”

  Emma picked up the plate with the sandwich and told Theo about Kendra and the little girls and Theo shook her head as if she didn’t want to hear it.

  “I wish I could get her what she wants, but it’s not like I can magically make someone donate a couple of kids’ bikes the right size. You just have to come and see what we’ve got.”

  “She saw nothing.”

  Theo nodded. “If you want to knock off early, go right ahead. Your bus’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Oh, right. Jamie dropped you off with Duchess.”

  “I’ll stay the whole day. Jamie will pick me up.”

  “Okay, then would you mind bringing down the Easter supplies after lunch?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  As Theo took over the counter Emma went into the back room kitchenette. She set the plate on the counter, then washed her hands. After drying them, she removed the plastic wrap from the sandwich and then picked up one of the cut halves. She really liked her sandwiches in four pieces, but she wasn’t supposed to use knives. She thought maybe she could use a knife and it would be okay, but sometimes when she looked at the sharp blade she would shy away because she would think of how you could be hurt by a knife, just like you could be hurt by banging your head on a fireplace or something else. Emma knew by experience. She tore both halves of the sandwich in half, then ate the four pieces one by one. Every day she worked at the Thrift Store Theo would bring her a tuna sandwich. Occasionally Emma worked when Theo wasn’t there, but Emma didn’t like it as much. Theo would have one or the other people work with her and Emma didn’t feel as comfortable with them.