Spooning Leads to Forking (Hot in the Kitchen Book 2)

by Kilby Blades

  “So tell me about your factory of the future,” This was where some people’s eyes glazed over—if you didn’t geek out on business, you could get pretty bored. So far, no glazing seemed to be happening. Shea actually seemed pretty interested. So he’d give her more than the Cliff’s Notes version of the story.

  “A factory of the future would be set up so that the factory space is agile. It would be conducive to retooling and reconfiguration as industries and opportunities change. The hydroelectric power we get from the river will always make us cost competitive, but right now we’re losing because we deal in the wrong commodity. A new kind of factory would allow us to manufacture whatever the markets demand.”

  “That’ll dovetail nicely with the other riverfront project.”

  Dev frowned and his hand stopped mid-motion from raising his wine glass to his lips. “What other riverfront project?”

  “The one that group of guys from New York have been talking about for the past few weeks.”

  “What guys?” Dev had a sinking feeling he already knew, but he held his breath as he waited for a description.

  It was Shea’s turn to narrow her eyes and frown a bit in confusion. “You kind of can’t miss these guys. They’re pretty loud and kind of obnoxious.”

  “Do you mean the executives down from Packard?”

  Shea shrugged and snuggled in closer. “I think they might be. I think one of them’s named Don.”

  Dev felt protective of Shea as he ducked to usher her into the yurt, a sentiment he would try not to let seep into his body language during the meeting. What little he knew of her ex confirmed that this Keenan character had held her a little too close. Dev would suppress his instinct to touch her again—would settle for guiding her lightly with his hand on the small of her back. Things between them were still too new and there was still too much they’d never talked about. Impossible as it seemed, Dev had to do his best to take it slow.

  Hands were shaken and introductions were made. An extra chair had been added to the circle. Cliff looked more than a bit miffed to find himself in Laura’s yurt at eleven o’clock on a Friday night. Laura had brought down a thermos of coffee that was gratefully acknowledged and accepted by all. It lent the yurt a bit more warmth and a comforting smell.

  “Shea overheard something…” Dev started in, not wanting to leave the others in suspense. “…sitting back-to-back from Don Packard Jr. at the Spoon. It didn’t strike her as suspicious then, but hearing a few things from me tonight…. well, let’s just say they got her thinking.”

  Dev watched the range of expressions that he’d first seen on the others faces morph through rapt attention, to disbelief, to understanding as Shea explained. Though, if they hadn’t put two and two together, she spelled it out for them.

  “It didn’t sound like brainstorming. It sounded like a done deal,” Shea said as she came to her conclusion. “They weren’t talking about whether to build—they were discussing the tradeoffs of different configurations. Like, whether a higher number of short-stay condos could actually have better GOPPARs than the alternative.”

  “GOPPARs?” Laura was a sharp listener.

  “Gross Operating Profit Per Available Room,” Shea spelled out.

  “How do you know all this stuff?” Cliff asked.

  “My ex is an investor. I’ve been a fly on the wall for a few hospitality deals.”

  Shea had been married to another investor. It unsettled Dev—more possibilities that he might remind Shea of Keenan in any way. If he did, that said something about why she got cagey sometimes talking about her ex.

  “That explains all the theatrics,” Laura concluded aloud. “And why he won’t take any of your calls.”

  “I told him straight, I had a business proposition.” Dev took up the conversation. “And a deal that would be favorable to him. He knew if I offered him more than the mills were worth and he didn’t take the deal, it would rouse suspicion.”

  “More than suspicion,” Shea chimed in. “The fact that he wouldn’t even hear your proposal means he’s in deep enough on his deal not to back out. Most investors would want to hear all offers. That means—” Shea stopped short and locked eyes with Dev.

  “What does it mean?” Stanley asked a bit testily.

  “Probably that he’s been planning this for a while.”

  Shea’s words sat heavy and unmoving as the space grew quiet. She looked sick, as if she regretted having said anything at all.

  “It’s disgusting,” Stanley said finally, with somber disdain. “Circling us like a vulture. Waiting for us to take our dying breath…”

  “Only, what if he couldn’t wait?” When Cliff said it, he looked at Dev.

  Walking into the meeting, Dev hadn’t been able to imagine much worse than his running theory: that Packard had no plan to reopen the mills. Now, he’d stumbled on motive.

  “I can’t talk about this,” Dev said abruptly. It was meant for the whole room, but his eyes were still on Cliff, whose expression said clearly what they had both figured out.

  “I can’t continue to speculate in this kind of setting. Any conversations I have about Packard from here on out have to be part of the investigation.”

  Dev rose then and held his hand out to Shea, who took it and quickly did the same.

  “Don Packard Jr. is now officially a suspect.”

  “You’re in early.”

  Dev was so bleary-eyed and out of it as he let himself into the front door of The Big Spoon, he hadn’t heard Trudy come in, hot on his heels. Trudy was the person he’d skipped going home to come in and see—his last stop on a long night that had ended at Duff’s.

  After taking Shea home well after midnight and not leaving until they’d shared a long, tempting kiss, he’d headed out to tell his boss the narrative he was still working out in his head. It was still a theory, but, what if? What if Don Jr. was the vandal? It was unlikely that Don Jr. was the physical perpetrator, or had come all the way from New York to commit the crime, but what if he’d hired someone to have it done?

  The case had reached other dead ends by then, yet Don Jr.’s behavior remained suspicious—what was he still doing here for days on end without having returned to New York? Was he here for business? Pleasure? He’d come with an entourage of other men, some of who had been introduced; all of those who had were said to be employees of Packard. Only, whenever they’d been seen in town, their meetings had seemed less like official business and more like a bunch of guys who didn’t work much getting together for three-martini lunches.

  “Mornin’, Trudy. You’re just the woman I want to see.” Dev tried to perk up a little as he slowed—long enough to give her a hug. He and Trudy had always been close in a way that felt special to Dev. She had been his mother’s best friend.

  “You look like the only thing you want to see is a bed,” she deadpanned.

  “Oh, I’m going home to get my sleep. Long night up with Duff.”

  Trudy blinked as she set her purse on the end of the bar and made her way behind it to get to the small coffee machine the whole staff used in the morning.

  “Up all night, were you? I thought it would’ve been with a different girl.”

  Dev took a seat at the bar. There was no such thing as a secret in a small town, but this thing with Shea…suddenly, it felt very real. Twenty-four hours before, he’d never kissed the woman. Suddenly, it seemed as if everybody knew. He wondered what Shea would think of all of this. They’d give it to Dev worse, but she’d get it, too: the questions and comments about their status. If she wasn’t getting it already, it was only a matter of time.

  “Your momma would’ve liked her,” Trudy announced as she started to make her coffee.

  “My mom would’ve liked anyone who meant I wasn’t spending Friday nights by myself with my nose in a book,” Dev managed with a tired look.

  “She worried about you was all,” Trudy said with the sad smile and the gentle voice she always did when she talked about Josie Kingsto
n.

  “That, she did,” he conceded, nodding his thanks as she put an empty cup in front of him.

  On the counter, the coffee brewed, and the first tendrils of aroma reached Dev’s nose. He’d had some at Duff’s but could use a bit more. Not too much—he needed to sleep whenever he got home.

  “I’m here in an official capacity.” It was the phrase he always used to let someone know they weren’t talking to Dev their friend, but to Dev the man who was there on town business. Though, with every passing day, he wished there were less drama with the mills and that Duff would resume her post.

  “I need the name of the attorney who’s been helping us out whenever we have trouble with lakefront property. Duff said you’ve been dealing with this guy since your own days on the Development Council.”

  “More developers?” she asked.

  “Something like that,” Dev hedged, letting Trudy think it was about the work he was doing with the council and not with the investigation. Dev had vaguely known that such an attorney existed—one who had helped the town for years. Regrouping at Duff’s house had taken half the night, but their brainstorming had yielded this reminder. Dev had no illusions that stopping development on the riverfront by someone who owned the land was a different ballgame. But seeing what leverage they might have was worth a shot.

  “Hewitt,” Trudy replied, traveling back to her purse on top of the bar and fishing out her phone. After a few clicks on her screen, she turned it off and dropped it back in. At the very same moment, Dev’s own phone vibrated with a text. Trudy had sent him the contact.

  “Law offices of Hewitt & Hewitt,” Dev read aloud as he opened his text.

  “The father is “William.” The son goes by “Bud.” William’s getting up there in years—might even be retired—but he’ll remember all the cases.”

  “He work with his own investigator?” Dev asked, thinking about the process he’d seen his company’s California attorneys go through.

  “His firm takes care of everything.” Trudy punctuated her words with a wave of her hand.

  Apart from having dinner with Shea and kissing her earlier, this was the only other good news he’d had all week. Someone else taking care of the development case would free him up to take on the other monster he had to slay. As Duff had handily reminded him, the new information they had about motive was circumstantial. They still didn’t have enough hard evidence to make an arrest. However much Dev had dedicated his career to fighting it, corporate greed won battles like this every day. Packard owned the land and there was a good chance they’d already lost.

  “I just need him to buy me some time.” Dev spoke out loud the scheme he’d come up with at some point overnight. “Bury the other side in paperwork for a while until I come up with a better offer for the land.”

  That was Dev’s Plan B—to make Packard an even better deal than the great deal he was already prepared to make. If greed really was Don Jr.’s motive, Dev would make him a stupidly favorable offer. It meant he’d need to call in a few favors from a few more investor friends.

  “One day, you know….” Trudy began haltingly, pulling out the pot of coffee at the same time as she switched in an empty cup to catch the drip. She walked the half-full carafe to the mug she’d set in front of Dev and pour him the beginnings. “One day, we ought to talk about a few things. Only, not when you’re half asleep and I’m about to go on shift.”

  Whenever she wanted to have a heart to heart, it usually had something to do with Dev’s mom. Dev couldn’t think straight enough to speculate clearly on what had prompted Trudy’s offer. Maybe she was still stuck on what his mom would have thought of Shea.

  “Can it wait ‘till all this blows over?” Dev said after his first scalding sip. “I don’t know if I can handle one more thing.”

  26

  The Breeder

  Shea

  “So I pulled a couple of strings…”

  Dev leaned a hip against the counter in front of where Shea was sitting, plucked the remaining half of the morning bun she’d been noshing on off of the plate, and took a bite before putting it down. Dev sharing germs with her tickled her beyond reason.

  “Oh yeah? What kind of strings?” She brought the pen she’d been bouncing between her fingers to worry flirtatiously between her teeth as she smiled up at him.

  “Puppy strings,” Dev replied casually, “Remember how I told you about Brody’s wife? Jess, the breeder?”

  “I still don’t know,” Shea hedged. “The more I think about it, the more I think I ought to go to the pound. It sounds like Jess’s dogs are in demand. Don’t you think the right thing to do is find a dog that no one wants?”

  Dev seemed displeased by the notion. “The idea was to get a guard dog, remember?”

  “And a dog for companionship,” Shea pointed out.

  “Even if all you wanted was a companion, this is Colorado. Get on the trails with a Yorkie or a Cocker Spaniel, your dog’s just gonna be prey.”

  Dev had to be exaggerating. Surely, plenty of people in the mountains owned toys and other smaller breeds. But he did have a point.

  “Just what kind of strings did you pull to make one of these fabulous beasts available to me?”

  Dev shrugged “One of their buyers backed out. I persuaded Jess to forget she had a waiting list. So…” Dev licked his fingers clean of sugar in a way that made Shea jealous. “Be ready tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

  When Dev arrived to pick her up, the backseat of the truck was as she had never seen it. A dog crate sad at the center of the back seat. And six blankets that were fitted to drape over the seats had been installed. A bottle of water sat next to the crate, as did a couple of toys that seemed unpackaged but new.

  Shea narrowed her eyes. “I thought we were just having a conversation. Dropping by to take a look. You seem pretty prepared for someone who’s just supposed to be taking me on an exploratory mission.”

  He shrugged and shifted his gaze out the window. For a second, he looked far away.

  “Figured I’d bring you a few things. I’ve got no reason to use them anymore.”

  Dev shifted into gear at the same time she comprehended. He had owned a dog once. The fact that he had this stuff in Sapling meant Dev’s dog had been with him when he moved there a year before.

  “What was her name?” Shea asked softly.

  “His name,” he corrected. “Butch. He was a Shepherd-Husky mix, we thought. Most loyal dog you’d ever want to know. But he was old and sick. I cried like a baby when we had to put him down.”

  Shea didn’t generally condone using cell phones while driving, but she didn’t stop Dev from thumbing around on his for a few seconds, until he handed her his own device. A picture of Dev and a sweet old dog were pulled up on his screen. She didn’t say anything, just let her eyes wash over the picture as she smiled at his memory, taking in a version of Dev who looked to be the exact the same age.

  “Now scroll to the next picture,” Dev commanded gently as he made his slow way around one of the hill’s rolling curves.

  Shea did. The next photo she saw had to have been taken when Dev was a teenager. His clothes were dated and his face had baby fat; his eyes were bright and his cheeks had a flush to them that held the vitality of youth. Whereas Dev seemed just as tall in height as he was now, Butch was just a puppy.

  “My mom was allergic, so we could never have a dog. I still remember the day Pete took me to the pound to get him. He told me his house was my house, too, and if I wanted a dog to live with me in my house, I could damn well have myself a dog.”

  Shea’s smile grew even wider. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of the screen. “Both of you were really cute.”

  Dev cast her a sidelong glance and raised an eyebrow. “Past tense?”

  She nudged him with her elbow then handed back the phone. Things fell silent between them for minutes of the drive as they took long, meandering roads—a comfortable silence that felt full of reflection.

  As
they pulled up to the house, Shea put her hand over Dev’s and gave him a little smile. “Maybe there will be two cancellations and she’ll have two dogs.”

  “Are you a hugger?”

  The door to Brody’s house flew open to reveal who could be none other than Jess, dog breeder and police dog trainer extraordinaire. Never in a million years would Shea have expected the woman who stood in front of her. With Brody being as serious and strait-laced as he was, Shea had expected someone more subdued. In an instant, Shea judged their marriage as a textbook case of “opposites attract.”

  “Um…yes.” Shea replied a beat too late after she got over the initial shock. In any case, Jess hadn’t awaited her answer. She was already on tiptoe greeting Dev. In quick succession, Shea received her own tight hug.

  “I feel like I already know you,” Jess announced after she pulled back. “The way Dev talked about you on the phone, I knew you just had to have one of my dogs. He told me ‘bout that big, glass house with all the forest behind it and that big ol’ back lawn, and all the time you’ll have to spend with Klaus, and how you need a good companion and all.”

  “Klaus?” Shea repeated.

  “That’s just her puppy name, but if you like her, she’ll be your dog. She’s still young enough that she’ll be flexible to new conditioning. You can call her anything you want. You know anything about Belgian Malinois?”

  It was hard to get a word in edgewise. Jess seemed to talk in one long sentence.

  “I looked them up a little online,” Shea said.

  Brody’s house was on a nice piece of land with the house near the front of the property. Jess had walked them in a labyrinthine way that revealed rooms without a whisper of a man’s touch. Shea found that she kind of loved it. there were furry rug and cursive-colored pillow shams embroidered with cute sayings and dozens of other rather feminine baubles.

  “Great breed,” Jess said offhandedly as the trio spilled out of the kitchen and into the back, revealing a spacious plot of land. Kennels could be seen in the distance—at least an acre back. They were well-spaced and the operation looked professional. What looked like a training course was fenced in, half an acre forth in another part of the yard.