by Carol Cox
What about the library? She yearned for a nice long heart-to-heart with Livvy, but half an hour would barely give them a chance to get started. She sighed and shook her head. Better save that for another time.
An idea struck her, and she put the Honda in gear. She could drive around and see how much damage the storm had done here in town.
She drove slowly, circling the Town Green, and noted with relief that the cleanup crews had already been at work, and many of the trees seemed to be intact.
She stopped to let a couple cross Euclid in front of the town hall and did a double take when she spotted Sheriff Roberts’ vehicle parked beside the brick building.
Now there was something she could do that wouldn’t take all that long. An empty parking spot beckoned just ahead, and Kate pulled into it.
SHERIFF ALAN ROBERTS was talking on the telephone when she opened the door to the sheriff’s office. He glanced up and acknowledged her entrance with a brief nod, then pointed toward Skip Spencer and went back to his phone conversation.
Taking the hint, Skip shut the drawer of the filing cabinet and parked on the edge of his desk. “What can we do for you, Missus Hanlon?”
Kate smiled. “I noticed the sheriff’s SUV parked outside. I thought I’d check and see if he had any new leads on the Mustang.” She looked at Skip hopefully. “Is anything happening on that?”
Skip glanced over his shoulder. When he saw the sheriff still deep in conversation, he turned back to Kate and lowered his voice. “We haven’t turned up much of anything yet, but—”
“Skip!” The sheriff hung up the phone and beckoned to his deputy.
Giving Kate an apologetic look, Skip trotted over to the sheriff’s desk and drew himself up. “Yes, sir. Is there something you want me to look into?”
“I need last year’s report on traffic fines we collected here in town,” the sheriff said. “Would you like to look into that for me?”
The deputy’s shoulders sagged. His expression reminded her of the way Kisses looked when his food dish was empty.
Poor thing, she mused as Skip returned to the gray metal filing cabinets. He wanted so much to prove to the sheriff that he was capable of being more than a mere paper pusher.
If only he hadn’t made so many bloopers in his early days in law enforcement. Everyone made mistakes, of course, but Skip’s tended to be more memorable than most.
Kate still chuckled at the thought of Skip arresting Renee Lambert for attempted pickpocketing, when all she was trying to do was adjust Joe Tucker’s handkerchief.
The unfortunate incident occurred before she and Paul moved to Copper Mill, but the story had gone down in local legend. Even though she hadn’t been around to see it, the mental image of Skip’s determination to uphold the law and Renee’s subsequent wrath made Kate laugh every time she thought of it.
She took the opportunity to cross the open space to the sheriff’s desk. “So have you decided I’m not a criminal mastermind after all?”
The sheriff shook his head. “I never thought that, Kate. I just needed your prints to compare with the others we found at the scene. A lot of our work involves the process of elimination.”
His smile softened his craggy face. “Does that help?”
“A little. But I’d feel a lot better if all the loose ends in this case could be tied up.” She slipped into the visitor’s chair to put herself at eye level with him. “Have you made any progress on finding out who drove that Mustang?”
Sheriff Roberts shook his head again. “At this point, I’m inclined to think it was a transient without any local connections. The prints we took off the steering wheel don’t match any of the others we found at the diner...or yours or Roland Myers’, for that matter. There’s nothing to point to it being anyone from around here. More than likely, whoever did it hit the road soon afterward and will never show up around here again.”
“So that means...”
He shrugged. “There’s a possibility, and a strong one, that we may never find out who did it.”
Kate’s hands clenched in her lap. “That’s it? You’re giving up?”
“We never give up, but it’s probably moving onto a back burner pretty soon. We just don’t have anything else to go on.”
“Here you are, sir.” Skip stepped up beside them and placed a file folder squarely on the sheriff’s desk.
Sheriff Roberts flipped the folder open and handed it back to him after a brief glance. “The mayor asked me for that information. Would you mind running this over to his office for me?”
Skip looked even more crestfallen than before. Maybe being a gofer ranked even lower than a paper pusher.
Sheriff Roberts looked back at Kate. “Anything else?”
She took the hint. “No, that’s all I wanted to know. Thank you for your time.”
Skip held the door open for her as they passed out into the building’s central area. “So did you find out what you needed to?”
“I guess so, but I was really hoping things had moved forward with the Mustang case. It’s a shame you don’t have any leads to go on.”
“No...” Skip slowed his pace. “Nothing official, that is.”
Kate stopped in her tracks. “What do you mean?”
“I have an idea or two of my own I want to follow up on.”
Kate put her hand on his arm. “Like what?”
Skip lowered his voice and spoke out of the side of his mouth in a way that reminded Kate of a James Cagney movie. “Why would someone take off with that Mustang in the middle of the night? I mean, there were a ton of other cars out there the thief could have taken instead. Someone was after that car specifically.”
Kate’s pulse fluttered. “Why would he want that car instead of one of the others?”
“There’s a big market for parts for classic cars like that. I’d say someone knew exactly what they wanted.”
He glanced around and leaned closer to her. “Do you know what a chop shop is?”
Kate bobbed her head up and down, trying to hold back her excitement. “It’s a place where stolen cars are dismantled and parted out.”
Skip nodded at her as though she were a star pupil. “Exactly. And there’s someone around here who used to run one. Any idea who that is?”
So her first instinct had been right all along! Roland Myers had been involved in this all along, not as the victimized owner, but a perpetrator.
“Avery Griffin,” Skip punctuated the statement with a knowing nod.
Kate’s jaw dropped. “Avery?”
“Yep. He had himself a nice little setup on the back edge of his property about fifteen years ago. He even served some time in the county jail.”
“But...but...”
“I’m going to be keeping my eye on him,” Skip promised. “We’ll get a break in the case before long. I can just about guarantee it.”
He turned toward the mayor’s office, leaving Kate rooted to the floor. Avery, a car thief?
A new thought struck her. Did Paul know?
It was possible. Knowing how strongly he felt about keeping a confidence, she realized that he might have been aware of Avery’s checkered past but hadn’t told her. If he did know, it was no wonder the news about Avery driving off with the church’s lawn mower upset him so much.
Or maybe he would be just as surprised as she to learn about the revelation she had just received. And if that were the case, would it change his mind about keeping Avery on as the church custodian?
She walked out of the building and stood at the top of the concrete steps. Paul would be so disappointed if it turned out that his trust in Avery had been misplaced.
Kate got into her Honda and pulled away from the curb, sick at heart. Much as she wanted to find the person responsible for wrecking the diner, she hoped Paul’s intuition hadn’t played him false.
“HOW’S LORETTA DOING?”
Paul set his crutches inside the car and lowered himself onto the passenger seat before he answered.
<
br /> He turned a bemused look on Kate. “Talkative about some things, tight-lipped about others. I found out, for instance, who the mysterious caller was who reported the crash to the sheriff’s office.”
Kate caught her breath in a quick gasp. “Who?”
“Elma Swanson. She was coming home late from visiting some friends in Pine Ridge, and saw the hole in the front of the diner when she drove by.” He grinned. “She was in such a hurry to get off the phone with the deputy and start calling everyone else she knew that she forgot to leave her name.”
Kate laughed. “But what has Loretta decided to do? Did she tell you?”
Paul’s grin faded. “I guess I’d have to say Loretta is keeping things to herself about the fate of the diner.”
Kate blinked. “She wouldn’t even give you a hint?”
Paul shook his head and stared out the side window. “Not even when I told her how much it would mean to me and the other pastors. She did ask me for a favor, though.”
Something in his tone of voice told Kate she’d better brace herself. “And what would that be?”
“She wants me to make an announcement next Sunday from the pulpit. She’d like me to tell the congregation she’s tired of getting all the phone calls and having people show up at her door at all hours, and she wants everyone to leave her alone. People from all over town have been pestering her, but she said that would at least let the Faith Briar members know how she feels. She says it’s nobody’s business but hers whether she reopens, shuts the place down, or sells it to the businessmen who want to open that French restaurant everyone seems to be talking about.”
Kate sputtered with laughter. “The poor thing. They must be driving her to distraction if she’s ready to go to that length.”
“It would seem so.” Paul leaned over to massage his injured leg.
“She showed me a log she’s been keeping. Seven phone calls yesterday and thirteen the day before. She’s only had five so far today, but she tells me it’s early yet, and she’s sure there’ll be more.”
“If nothing else, that ought to show her how much people love the diner.”
She gave Paul an impish smile. “So what are you going to do about the announcement?”
He groaned. “I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll ask Millie to include it with the prayer requests when she prints the bulletins this week.”
Chapter Eighteen
Race you to the car.” Kate paused in the act of shrugging into her parka and stared at her husband. “What did you say?”
A cheeky grin split Paul’s face. “I said I’d race you to the car.” He dropped into a half crouch in the foyer, balancing on his good leg and holding his crutches poised. “Ready?”
Kate reached up to pat his head as she walked past to open the door that led from the foyer to the garage. “Give it a few more weeks, and I might take you up on it. For now, I think just getting to the car is probably enough of an accomplishment.”
She pushed the door open wide and swept her arm in a grand gesture. “Your chariot awaits.” She let Paul enter the garage ahead of her.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were afraid of the challenge.”
Kate wrinkled her nose at him, then pushed the button on her remote to open the garage door.
Paul slapped his hand on top of the Honda. “I win.”
“What?”
“You didn’t tag the car. We were racing, remember? I win.”
Kate walked around to the driver’s side, slid under the steering wheel, and fixed him with a stern look through the open passenger door. “You are getting entirely too feisty, Reverend Hanlon.”
Paul lowered himself inside the car. “Is that a complaint?”
Kate turned the key and let the motor run a moment while she reached across the seat and wrapped her arms around his neck. “No complaints here. I’m just glad you’re getting better.”
“Not to brag,” he went on while she backed the Honda out of the driveway, “but I am a lot more mobile than I was a week ago.”
Kate wagged her finger at him. “Enough to get yourself in trouble if you don’t behave. Just take it easy and follow the doctor’s instructions.”
She shifted into Drive and started off down Smoky Mountain Road. “I’m delighted you’re feeling so well, but we don’t want any setbacks.”
What a relief to be able to joke like this instead of fretting about his injury. Things had improved so much over the past week.
“You know,” Paul mused, “I’m able to put a little weight on my right foot. I wonder if I could get back to playing basketball before the cast comes off.”
“Balancing on one crutch while dribbling the ball with the other? In your dreams, mister.”
She checked for traffic, then crossed Mountain Laurel Road. Paul swiveled in his seat when they passed the high-school parking lot, then looked back at Kate.
“You missed your turn.”
She chuckled. “I was wondering when you’d catch on. I need to stop at the Mercantile first. The Faith Briar kids are running the concession stand at tonight’s game, and I promised to donate some tortilla chips for nachos. I forgot to pick them up earlier. It won’t take more than a couple of minutes.”
She turned onto Main Street, pleased to find a parking spot in front of the Mercantile. “Go back to your daydreaming. I won’t be long.”
IT TOOK ONLY a few minutes to locate the tortilla chips in the snack aisle. Kate grabbed three of the large-sized bags and carried them toward the front of the store.
As she neared the register, she could hear the raspy voice of Arlene Jacobs, Sam Gorman’s part-time cashier.
“You’re thirty-five cents short. You have another quarter and a dime on you?”
Kate took her place in line and eyed one of the magazines on the nearby rack while the customer in front of her dug in the pockets of his brown bomber jacket.
Wait a minute. Kate blinked, then leaned to one side for a better look at his face. Yes! A tingle of electricity shot through her when she recognized the mystery boy who seemed to keep crossing her path.
He rummaged around in his pants pockets, then went back to searching in the jacket again. His slender face puckered, and he licked his lips. “I know I had more with me.”
His face lit up. “Hey, I think there’s a hole in my pocket.”
Kate watched him ram his hands deeper into the jacket and saw his arm move across the back.
Arlene looked her way. “Sorry about the delay, Kate. Why don’t I void this out and ring up your order while I’m waiting?”
The boy looked around and made eye contact. A dull red flush stained his cheeks. Kate smiled, telling herself not to be daunted by the flare of panic she could see in his eyes.
This made the fourth—or was it the fifth?—time she had come in contact with him in recent days. In her experience, there was no such thing as a coincidence.
No, God put this young man in her path for a reason. It was up to her to go along with the program, whatever that might be, and find out what she was supposed to do about it.
She looked down at the boy’s purchases: a small package of string cheese, a Heath candy bar, and a pint of milk. Her heart went out to him. He needed to eat every bit of that, and a whole lot more. His brown leather jacket hung loose on his skinny frame.
Having watched Andrew and his friends while he was growing up, she knew all about teenage boys and their voracious appetites. But from the determination this one had not to miss out on buying this small assortment of groceries, she felt sure this food meant far more than just one more light snack to him.
She set the tortilla chips on the belt and shoved them toward the other items. “Just ring them up all together,” she told Arlene.
She handed over the purchase price, then scooped up the milk, cheese, and the candy bar and held them out to the boy. “Here, this is on me.”
He started to reach for the items, then pulled his hands back and shook his head. “I ca
n’t.”
Kate didn’t budge. “Come on. I’ve had the same thing happen to me before. I know how frustrating it is to think you have money and find out it’s missing.” He shook his head again.
“Do it for me,” she added with a laugh. “It will let me feel like I’ve made up a little bit for practically running you down the other day.”
The boy paused, then took the items with a casual air that belied his hungry look. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
Kate watched the way he clung to the food and felt he was showing remarkable self-restraint in not tearing the wrapper off the cheese and shoving one of the sticks into his mouth right then.
“Thanks,” he said again, smiling at her for the first time.
He had a nice smile, Kate thought. And a nice face, with those warm brown eyes and even, white teeth. It was the kind of face girls his age would swoon over.
Did girls still swoon? Probably not, Kate decided, but whatever the current day’s reaction was called, she felt sure this boy would produce it.
Moreover, he had the kind of bearing—forthright but not overconfident—that would produce a feeling of trust in the girls’ parents.
It was certainly working on her right then. Kate loved young people in general, but something about this one tugged at her heartstrings and made her want to do something to help him, even though she didn’t know a thing about him or his needs.
Acting on impulse, Kate pulled a ten-dollar bill from her purse and held it out to him.
The boy jerked back as though she’d tried to hand him a West Texas rattler. As quickly as it had appeared, the smile dropped away.
“No.” His tone told her he meant business. “I’m not looking for charity.”
I was right. He is a nice boy. Kate folded the bill but kept it in her hand. “It isn’t charity.” She spoke in a brisk tone. “More like a business proposition.”
He flickered a look at the exit. Kate touched his elbow and steered him outside before he could panic and take off again. “I’d like you to meet my husband. He’s waiting right outside.”