A Buried Body and Barkery Bites

by Aleksa Baxter

  Greta looked him up and down, not the least bit phased by that hunky sexuality of his. As a matter of fact, she matched it with a deadly sensuality of her own. For the first time I got a glimpse of what had made at least nine men, perhaps more, propose. She uncoiled like a jaguar scenting prey and leaned forward, staring him down. I saw her casually wave her wedding ring as she looked him slowly up and down and then dismissed him with a wave.

  He hesitated, as if he really was going to leave, but then he leaned closer, whispering something that made her sit up straight and slam her hand on the table.

  I started towards them, determined to throw him out the door for harassing her, but before I could get close enough to hear what they were saying Greta glared in my direction. She didn't say anything, but that one cold look told me to butt out and mind my own business.

  I retreated to the barkery counter and pretended to be straightening out my receipts, but I kept watching the two of them, trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

  Supposedly, most of human communication is actually conveyed via body language, but I gotta tell you, words certainly help clarify things, because what I could gather from their movements wasn't exactly clear.

  Jack was clearly confident about something at first, leaning forward and taking up space on the table like he owned it. But whatever it was that was driving that confidence hit Greta and bounced right off. She watched him coldly until he sat back and only then did she say something that made him deflate slightly. He slumped back in his chair as she continued to speak.

  There was tension in her shoulders, but it wasn't fear. Anger, perhaps? Affront, maybe? Like she was saying "who are you that you would dare to interrupt my day with this worthless issue?"

  He leaned forward again, hissing something at her, but she just shrugged one elegant shoulder as if daring him to carry out whatever threat he'd just made.

  And then she leaned forward and flung each word like a dagger. He literally flinched with each one she mouthed so calmly and precisely.

  She finished with a dismissive laugh and waved towards the door, inviting him to go to hell.

  Or so it seemed to me.

  Jack sat there for a moment longer, staring out the picture window at the beautiful view of the mountains across the way. Whatever he'd said and whatever she'd said it hadn't gone the way he'd intended.

  He stood and paused for a moment looking down at Greta, his fists resting on the back of the chair, but she'd already dismissed him. She didn't even glance in his direction as she opened her laptop and gestured for me to join her.

  Jack paused for another moment and then stormed out the door. If he could've slammed it, I’m sure he would have.

  Only when he was gone could I finally breathe normally again. I didn't know what had just happened between them, but it was intense.

  "Everything okay?" I asked as I joined her, watching Jack get into a very nice pick-up truck and peel out of the parking lot.

  She pressed her lips together. "Yes."

  "I'm sorry if that guy harassed you."

  She gave me a look that made me wonder if I'd somehow crossed an invisible line I hadn't even known existed, but then it faded away. "It was nothing. Please, join me."

  She acted as if the conversation had never happened, telling me instead about the latest renovations at her house. They had crews working seven days a week, sun up to sun down, hoping to finish before the weather turned.

  (I swear, Luke was going to be working there well into the next century at the rate it was going. But it wasn't really his fault. Greta and her husband were redoing everything. They should've just bulldozed the property and built from scratch, but I was too polite to say it.)

  It was a pleasant enough conversation, but I couldn't help but wonder what exactly Jack had said to her and what she'd said to him.

  I drove home that night trying to figure out what the connection between them was. Had she hired him to kill her ex? Would Greta do something like that? Would Jack? And, if not, then what had he known? And how?

  As I pulled up in front of my grandpa's house I glanced down the street and saw that Matt was still at work. Acting on impulse, I dialed his number as I leashed up Fancy and led her towards the house.

  "Matthew Barnes," he answered.

  "Matt. It's Maggie. You have dinner plans?"

  "I figured I'd try out one of those microwave meals you've told me so much about. I bought some sort of manly man's beef pot pie."

  I winced at the thought of it. "How about you swing by for dinner instead."

  "Why, Maggie May, did you actually believe that line you fed my brother earlier today? Are we an item and I didn't even know it?"

  "If we were an item, you'd definitely know it."

  "I would, would I? And how exactly would I know it?"

  Fancy dragged me towards the front door, practically running as she raced toward dinner and my grandpa. "Never mind. Look. Something interesting happened after you left. I thought you might want to know about it. Plus, I owe you one for going along with things earlier today."

  "Jack didn't hit on you after I left did he?" he asked, his voice flat with tension.

  "No. Nothing like that. But this could have something to do with the case involving Greta's ex. So, see you at six?"

  "Make it six-thirty and you have a deal."

  "Done."

  Chapter Thirteen

  My grandpa gave me a sly little look when I told him Matt was coming over for dinner.

  "It's not like that, Grandpa," I muttered as I finished placing the last tater tot for tater tot casserole. (So easy to make and sooo good.)

  "No?"

  "No."

  I gave him a brief rundown on Jack's sudden appearance at the store and what I'd done to avoid his attention.

  My grandpa snorted. "Maggie May, have you ever thought of just telling a man you're not interested in him? It's very easy, he asks you out and you say no."

  "But it's not that easy, not with a guy like Jack who sees a no as a challenge."

  He shook his head. "Not true. I knew Jackson Barnes very well. He would never pursue a woman who wasn't interested in him."

  "I didn't say he didn't pique my interest."

  "Ah…So that's the problem. Do you like him more than Matt?"

  "No…"

  Fortunately, Matt's knock on the front door saved me from the rest of that discussion.

  The food wasn't ready yet, so we sat at the kitchen table as the smell of cooking hamburger, tater tots, and mushroom soup wafted from the oven. I filled Matt in on the conversation between Greta and Jack while my grandpa pretended to do his crossword but really eavesdropped on us.

  When I was done, Matt didn't say anything, just looked thoughtful.

  "So?" I finally asked. "Do you think maybe their conversation had something to do with Greta's ex? Do you think Jack could be the killer?"

  Matt winced. "That's my brother you're talking about."

  "I know. But…"

  "But Jack may be mixed up in this. I agree. The timing is far too convenient. First thing I did when I returned to the station this afternoon was check for connections between Jack and Kristof."

  "And?"

  He gave me that look that said I wasn't a cop so it wasn't my business, but he answered anyway. "They did time together. They were cellmates for six months. Probably bonded over a shared love of breaking and entering."

  My grandpa grunted. "Pretty big jump to go from breaking and entering to murder."

  Matt nodded. "Yeah. But maybe a deal went south. Money's a great motivator."

  My grandpa set aside his paper. "I don't see it. I'll bet you dollars for donuts he's right in the middle of this mess, but he's not the killer."

  I took a sip of my beer. "If you're right about that, Grandpa, then Jack's in danger."

  They both looked at me with the same surprised expression.

  "Well, isn't he? I mean, if he was in business with Kristof then there has to b
e a good chance that whoever killed Kristof might kill Jack, too."

  Matt grimaced. "I hadn't thought of that. Give me a minute."

  He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. A few seconds later he said, "Hey. You still need a place to crash?" And a few seconds after that he said, "Alright. You know where to find the key," and then "No, I'm having dinner with Maggie and her grandpa."

  Matt winced and looked at us, but before I could say anything my grandpa said, "Tell him to come over. He knows where to find us."

  So Matt did.

  I leaned back in my chair. Just what I needed. Jack and Matt at the same dinner table with my grandpa there to make trouble. I tell ya. Life was far easier when I was over-worked and under-socialized and living alone in DC.

  I don't know where Jack was when Matt called him, but it must not have been very far away, because he was at our house within five minutes. He actually ducked his head a bit when he said hi to my grandpa. It was interesting to watch such a highly confident man suddenly turn meek and polite.

  Then again, my grandpa wasn't exactly the type of man you cross. Fifteen years in prison gives a man a certain "don't mess with me" air that even the most hardened criminal would respond to.

  I set the casserole dish on a couple of trivets in the middle of the table and shoved the serving spoon into the corner before running back into the kitchen for the green beans. Matt followed me and brought back four bottles of Coors.

  As we settled around the table and started to serve ourselves, I asked Jack, "Did you play for my grandpa?"

  "No."

  When it was clear he had no intention of saying anything more than that, I asked, "Then how do you two know each other?"

  Jack shoved a bite of food into his mouth and then answered, still chewing as he spoke. (My grandma would've pinned him to his seat with her worst glare for that. Since she wasn't there, my grandpa did it for her.) "Work release."

  My grandpa added, "Jack worked for me for three months as part of his last jail term around these parts."

  "Doing what?" I asked. It wasn't like my grandpa had a company to employ him.

  Jack snorted and then ducked his head when my grandpa glared at him.

  "He helped out at the baseball field. Built the two dugouts. Tended the field. Fixed the fence."

  "And listened to your grandpa lecture me about what a better life that was than going down the wrong path." The sneer in his voice was evident.

  My grandpa leveled a glare at Jack that would've burned a hole right through most people. "Seems some people have to learn the hard way. Just hope you don't get killed first, boy."

  Jack glared right back at him and I wondered if I was going to have to break up a fist fight between my eighty-two-year-old grandpa and Matt's punk of a brother, but Matt distracted them by patting his leg and calling Fancy to his side. He held a tater tot up until she sat, and we all laughed at the drool that streamed from her mouth as she waited, shuffling closer and closer to him until she was nudging his hand with her nose.

  For all her excitement, when he finally gave her the tater tot she took it as delicately as a little mouse.

  That turned the conversation to dogs for a while. Matt and Jack exchanged stories of the old lab they'd grown up with who it seemed had been a good hunting dog but not the best house dog.

  It was almost a pleasant meal after that. Almost.

  As we sat around the table eating ice cream, I casually asked, "So, Jack, how long you sticking around for?"

  He shrugged one shoulder. "Don't know. I guess until my business is done."

  "What kind of business is that?"

  "None of ya."

  "Excuse me?"

  "It's none of your business." He smirked at me and suddenly I found him a lot less attractive than before.

  "Don't talk to Maggie like that," Matt said, his voice soft but firm.

  "Oh, yeah. I forgot. You're a thing." He took a swig of his beer. "No accounting for taste."

  It wasn't clear whether he meant to insult me for choosing Matt or Matt for choosing me, but it didn't matter to my grandpa. He crumpled his napkin and threw it on the table. "Well, I'd say it's about time you headed out, wouldn't you, Jack?"

  Jack glanced at his half-finished ice cream, but just nodded. "I guess so." He shoved his chair back, startling Fancy into a growl.

  Matt stood. "Then I guess I better go, too. Get Jack settled in and all."

  "You need sheets or pillows or anything?" I asked.

  "No, thanks."

  "Okay. Um…" I stood but didn't move for the door, not sure what to do. At the last minute Matt came over and kissed my cheek.

  "Best keep up appearances," he whispered before turning away and following his brother out the front door.

  I tried not to blush, but I'm pretty sure I failed miserably. That's okay. No one saw it but Fancy and she could've cared less. She was too busy eyeing all those half-finished bowls of ice cream.

  My grandpa closed the door firmly behind them. "Sooner that boy leaves town, the better."

  I nodded agreement. I knew Matt wanted to protect his brother but I did not like the idea of Jack staying with him. Not even for one night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next night was the big charity event. I only had two fancy party dresses to choose from. One was a short black number that fit well enough but made me exceedingly uncomfortable because of how well it fit, but the other was a long dress with an unfortunate neckline that was just low enough to flash my bra if I didn't keep constant vigilance. So the fitted little black number it was.

  I threw it on and grimaced at how it barely reached mid-thigh. It didn't look bad, but it certainly didn't allow for freedom of movement. No bending over to pick up anything tonight, that was for sure. At least not without far more thought and care than I wanted to give it.

  I put on some makeup, threw my hair up in a bun, and figured I was good to go. Unfortunately, Jamie and Mason were giving me a ride to the event and when Jamie saw me she decided I needed a bit of an intervention.

  "What's the point in having long hair, Maggie, if all you ever do is pull it back in a braid or throw it up in a bun?" She flashed me a grin as she pushed her long, flowing hair back from her face. "Fortunately, I know you well enough to know exactly what you were going to do, so I brought my tools."

  She marched me away to the bathroom to torture me with a hair curler while Mason and my grandpa sat in the living room making awkward small talk about Lulu and Fancy. (My grandpa had, very reluctantly, agreed to watch Lulu while we were away.)

  By the time Jamie finished with me my hair cascaded halfway down my back in beautiful, graceful curls that I knew wouldn't last an hour let alone an entire night. I snuck a hair thing into my purse so I could throw my hair back into a bun as soon as she wasn't looking.

  "Alright, then," I said. "Let's go." I tried to step past her, but she blocked me.

  "Not yet. We haven't done your makeup."

  "I put on eyeshadow."

  "And that's all you put on. It's a ball, Maggie. Close your eyes."

  Arguing with Jamie when she's decided something has to happen is a waste of breath, so I patiently let her give me a smoky eye and long lashes. I even let her force me to switch from the plain rose-colored lipstick I'd chosen to a more brilliant red. But when she told me I wasn't allowed to wear hose with my dress, I balked.

  "I am keeping on the hose. This dress is short enough as is without my having naked legs underneath."

  "Maggie, no one under fifty wears hose."

  "I do."

  "Maggie…"

  "No. I am wearing hose. Look. I let you tart me up like a streetwalker already. I'm wearing heels, which is something I'd hoped I'd never ever have to do again. And this dress is so short I'm going to be worried about flashing someone all night. The least you can let me do is keep my hose."

  When she hesitated, I knew I had her. I pushed past her into the hallway. "Come on. We're going to be late." I tug
ged at the dress, trying to pull it down an extra inch.

  "Stop that." Jamie smacked my hand. "It looks great."

  "It's short."

  "Not that short."

  "It is when Matt's going to be there tonight."

  She gave me her best dimpled smile. "Matt's going to be there, huh? Well, then, I'd say it's not short enough."

  I rolled my eyes at her and slipped my feet into the torture devices called four-inch high heels that made my butt and legs look great but would turn me into a hobbled cripple by the end of the night. "Can we just get this over with, please?"

  "Oh, Maggie. You're gonna love it. You know you will."

  When Jamie, Mason, and I pulled up out front of the Baker Valley Country Club I smiled politely at the young man working valet who opened my door and helped me out with a goggle-eyed look. It was the frickin' hair, I knew it. Men and long hair. I swear.

  My hand twitched towards my purse, ready to throw my hair up immediately, but Jamie grabbed it before I could. "You look gorgeous."

  "That's the problem," I muttered.

  Fortunately, Jamie looked even better than I did. She was wearing a bronze-colored mini dress with a scoop in back that stopped just short of indecent. As long as I stayed in her shadow all night, I'd be fine. But I knew I'd be paying for this for the next month, at least.

  I have a theory from my business days that men have this little switch in their brains. They can either see you as a competent colleague who happens to be a woman or they can see you as a woman that they want to, well, let's just say get to know really, really well. Flip that switch to the sexy side and it takes weeks to get them back to the competent side. And tonight I was going to be flipping that switch for every professional man in the county.

  And, worse yet, Matt.

  Oh well. Maybe it would be good for business. Not like I was trying to convince men to listen to my ideas anymore. Instead I was trying to sell them a product…

  Heck, come to think of it, I should've brought business cards. And samples. Give out my treats to everyone who asked. Haha.