Hot Water

by Maggie Toussaint

  “Reggie likes to hide in tight places. Under upholstered chairs. Behind tables. In the cedar chest.”

  “You’re a genius, North.” Laurie Ann vaulted to her feet. Sand flew as she sprinted toward the kitchen area. She flipped open the half dozen coolers by the buffet.

  In the last one, a bright red job with big wheels and the lid slightly ajar, a small child lay curled in a tight ball. Unhurt. “I found her,” Laurie Ann shouted. She lifted the sleeping child out of the cooler.

  Taylor jostled awake and started crying. Her mother ran over, crying even louder. Sirens wailed on the approach road.

  Laurie Ann handed the child to Cassie Sutton. “Thank you for finding her,” Cassie said. “I was so worried. I couldn’t stop praying for her.”

  “She’s safe and sound,” Laurie Ann said. “This is a good day.”

  “I forgot all about her new interest in hide and seek. She must have followed me over to the trashcan. I didn’t notice her behind me, but I should have noticed. A good mom would have noticed.”

  “You are a good mom. You sounded the alarm as soon as she went missing.”

  Wyatt felt pride at how Laurie Ann’s composure held during the crisis. No wonder she was up for promotion. The locals were lucky to have her watching over them.

  When the sheriff’s deputies arrived a few minutes later, she briefed them on what happened. One of the men scrunched up his face at Wyatt. “And you are?” Deputy Jink Smith asked.

  “Wyatt North. Her associate.”

  Smith scowled at him. “Find yourself an iced tea and a senior to chat up for a few minutes.”

  Jink Smith was everything he wasn’t. Blond. Wiry. Tanned. Comfortable in his surroundings. Chances were high he didn’t have burn scars disfiguring his body. He probably hunted and fished, too. Wyatt hated him on sight.

  “That’s a good idea, Wyatt. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes,” Laurie Ann said, her face animated.

  “Okay.” Not the outcome he’d hoped for, but he understood work came first.

  “You thinking about moving down here?” Sloan Harding asked when he sat down at their table.

  “I’m thinking about catching a serial arsonist.”

  Harding laughed. “For an expert, you’re not too swift. I’d say you’re thinking about catching the cutest female cop for miles around.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “You two have moved in lockstep since you arrived. I thought you only hit town yesterday.”

  “I did.”

  “You sure move fast.”

  He couldn’t see Laurie Ann’s face from here, only her slim back. Jink Smith appeared to be hanging on her every word. “I didn’t intend to move anything. She’s nice, that’s all.”

  “She’s a lot more than that. None of us have ever seen her this interested in a man. I’d begun to wonder if she was interested in women, but you blew that theory out of the water. Where’s this going?”

  “Does it have to be going anywhere? It is what it is, something brand new for both of us. Right now we’re living in the moment.”

  “Let me be the first to say that’s not good enough. Laurie Ann is the heart of this community. She’s helped everyone here in some way. Though she looks tough in her cop clothes and dark glasses, she’s a small town girl wearing her heart on her sleeve. I’ll turn my entire security team loose on you if you hurt her.”

  “Your fiancée make you say that?”

  “She did, and if you laugh, I’ll have to hit you.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “You’re so whipped. I’ll never let a woman do that to me.”

  Harding laughed until the entire table shook with it. “I used to be you. Then I met Roxie, and everything changed. I’m going to remind you of this conversation someday soon.”

  He ignored Harding because Laurie Ann was walking toward him with purpose. “All done?” he asked.

  She handed him her set of keys. “The sheriff wants to see me at the law enforcement center. I’ll catch a ride to the hotel later to pick up my car.”

  “Sounds good.” The keys were warm from being in her pocket. His fingers closed tightly around the heated metal.

  Laurie Ann nodded, hurried back to the deputies, and hopped into Smith’s SUV.

  After she left, Roxie tried to grill Wyatt about his family, but he’d grown up with sisters and was wise to her ways. He distracted her with a change in subject. “Who used to get in trouble setting fires as a kid?”

  “I know one person who set fires as a kid, but I hesitate to mention his name,” Roxie said. “He’s grown up now, and we don’t have a fire problem.”

  “Except for the Pirate’s Cove fire.”

  Roxie appeared to consider that point. “What about the new owners? The restaurant was my listing, and I met Glen and Ellie Foxworth when they walked through the property. They didn’t like the window position, didn’t like the kitchen setup, didn’t like the style of building. They lowballed my clients, but my folks took their crappy offer because they were desperate. Y’all check them out?”

  “You think the new owners hired my serial arsonist to gut their property?”

  “What are the odds, right? How would a Jacksonville couple even know your guy?”

  “I don’t know the motive for this arson. Insurance fraud seems a stretch.” He studied Roxie again. Harding was a lucky man to have a woman like her. “Tell me about the kid who played with matches. Who is he? Is he still in the area?”

  “I’d rather not say,” Roxie said, zipping her mouth shut.

  Wyatt leaned forward. “This could be important to my investigation.”

  Roxie shook her head.

  Harding stiffened. “I know who she’s talking about. You do not want to go down this road, bro.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  Harding sighed. “Our local jack of all trades. Lester Church. Laurie Ann’s cousin.”

  Chapter 13

  Laurie Ann sat down in Sheriff Gator Parnell’s spacious office. Questions tangled in her head, but she presented a calm appearance. This wasn’t the time or place to call attention to her nerves. Not with a promotion in her future.

  The county law enforcement center was much newer than the city police digs. The furniture looked like it had actually been made this century. Even better, the computer monitors weren’t the size of azalea bushes.

  “Good job on finding that lost kid,” the sheriff said.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’ve got good instincts, Dinterman. After you become an investigator, I’m hoping to hire you on out here.”

  “I appreciate that, sir. Tidewater County is my home. I prefer to work here.”

  He nodded, started to speak, apparently thought the better of it, and tried a new tack. “Chief Tyler and I agreed you’d be the right person to solve the death of James Brown. But with him dying of smoke inhalation, it isn’t the open and shut case we envisioned. How’s your investigation coming?”

  Keeping track of Wyatt North had stalled her investigation. “I don’t have any new leads, sir. I don’t know what Brown was doing in the old restaurant. I’m open to suggestions.”

  “Brown associated with two other bottom feeders, Ray Spivey and Frankie Miles. I’ll get you their contact information before you leave. Maybe Spivey or Miles can fill you in on Brown’s last days. Brown didn’t own a cell phone or have a bank account, so there are no phone or financial records to check. With no fixed address and no family, you had few leads to start with. How’s the arson investigation coming along?”

  “Slow. North believes our fire was set by his serial arsonist. He’s sent off samples and he’s nosing around, asking questions.”

  “Stick close to him. He may turn up a lead that will help us figure out what Brown was doing out there.”

  “That’s my plan, sir.”

  “Are the property owners coming to view the damage firsthand?”

  Darn. She’d forgotten about the new owners. How red was h
er face? “Uncle Buford contacted the Foxworths, but I haven’t followed up with them. I’ll get right on that.”

  “You’ll do all right, Dinterman. I know your dad’s awful proud of you. Pete showed me the ropes when I was new, and I’ve never forgotten his kindness. You keep your nose to the ground, and you’ll have my job before you know it.”

  The sheriff thought she was gunning for his job? This was her worst nightmare. She worked to release the tension in her jaw. “My goal is to make investigator, sir. Beyond that, I can’t say what the future will bring. I enjoy my work, but I have a lot to learn.”

  He nodded and turned to his computer. She sat in the upright wooden chair, knowing she hadn’t been dismissed but knowing the sheriff was a stickler for protocol. If she stood or fidgeted, she’d call unwanted attention to herself. She waited.

  A printer whirred to life, shooting out two pages. The sheriff handed them to her. “Here are the sheets on Spivey and Miles. Both have been employed by half the county doing odd jobs; both have been in and out of jail. Buy them a meal when you run them down, and they’ll tell you everything they know.”

  That sounded like a dismissal. She rose, papers in hand. “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate your help.”

  He levered himself up on his feet. “Deputy Ballard will give you a lift. Holler if you need anything else.”

  She hadn’t hollered since she was three, but she smiled her thanks and stepped into the hall. Ballard hurried to meet her. “Ready when you are,” he said with a smile.

  The deputy was ten years older than she with a padded waistline courtesy of the all-you-can eat lunch buffet at Sheryl’s Dinner. His pleasant smile could charm a woman, but she’d seen him take down a bad guy with force. In short, he was exactly what she aspired to be, in the female context, of course.

  “You seen Ray Spivey or Frankie Miles lately?” she asked.

  “Not in a few days. But that’s how it goes with them. When you run across that pair, they’re aggravating someone.”

  “I’m looking for them in regards to James Brown’s death.”

  “I’ll let you know if I see them. Check area liquor stores. Those two will do anything for a bottle of hooch.”

  Would they commit murder? The chances of them finding bottles of booze at the empty Pirate’s Cove Restaurant were nil. How did James Brown wind up in the wrong place at the wrong time? If North’s theory about an arsonist was correct, at least one other person was involved in this case.

  The hotel was less than a mile from the law enforcement center. Ballard dropped her at the door. “Catch you later,” he said.

  Laurie Ann strode into the carpeted lobby but before she reached the elevator, the desk clerk called her over. “He’s not up there.”

  She turned. “What’s that?”

  “Mr. North. He left a note for you,” Kadesh said.

  A note? She didn’t like the sound of that. She collected the fat envelope and felt a wave of relief when she felt the irregular outline of her keys. “Thanks.”

  The shadows were lengthening as she sat in her Mustang and tore open the envelope. He’d gone to investigate another brushfire four counties over.

  That was a helluva note.

  She’d let him out of her sight, and he’d bolted.

  Would he come back?

  Worse, would the chief find out she’d lost their arson investigator?

  Chapter 14

  Saturday night and Laurie Ann didn’t have a date. Not that she usually had a date, but she’d decided to crawl through the bars tonight looking for Spivey and Miles. Ordinarily, she’d curl up with a book and her pets at home and say “who cares about dates or bars?” She got her fill of drunks on the job.

  She put on a clean shirt and cargo pants, combed her hair, draped her St. Christopher’s chain around her neck, and decided against makeup. Her tabby cat, Pumpkin, immediately claimed her dirty clothes by curling up in them. Her three-legged dog, Gabby, barked his disapproval at being left behind yet again.

  “I won’t be long, gang. A couple of hours at most. Then we’ll turn in for the night.”

  At her first stop, Bully Boys, she threaded her way to the dimly lit bar and ordered a beer. This place wasn’t on her personal radar, but since it was rougher, she thought she’d hit it earlier in the evening instead of later. Country music pulsed at an ear-pounding volume.

  To her dismay, off-duty officer Tom Harlow zeroed in on her. “Shuggie,” he said, wrapping her in an unwelcome hug. “Whatcha doing out here with us bachelors?”

  “Hanging out,” she replied, trying and failing to get out from under his beefy palm.

  He grinned from ear to ear, leaning in close to carry on a conversation. “I don’t recall seeing you hanging out here before. Is something going on?”

  “What would be going on, Harlow? Do you think I’m here to spy on you?”

  “Heck, no.” He studied her again. “Are you? What’d I do? Am I in hot water?”

  “If you are, I don’t know about it. I’m too busy working with the arson investigator to keep up with the scuttlebutt.”

  His eyebrows waggled. “In that case, wanna dance?”

  She peered around him to see who she might ask about Spivey or Miles. “No. I’m looking for a couple of guys.”

  “You found one.”

  “Not what I meant. I’m looking for Spivey and Miles.”

  “You can do better, Laurie Ann. If you’re not interested in me, I can fix you up with some of my drinking buddies.”

  She twisted and pushed him away. “Let go of me. I’m not here for a hookup. I’m working on my case.”

  He edged in close again. “Ahh. A little undercover work. Why didn’t you say so?” He turned around, banged his glass on the counter to quiet the room. The bartender dialed the music back to a tolerable level.

  “Anybody seen Spivey and Miles tonight?” Harlow asked.

  “Hell, no,” Buster O’Reilly said. “Ain’t seen those critters; don’t wanna see them. Not unless they got the money they owe me.”

  “I seen ’em,” Jordan Kirk belched from the corner of the room. “They was hitching on the state highway about mid-county sometime late afternoon. I was on my way to the drug store for rub—for something.”

  Laughter echoed through the room as Harry Mendez called out, “I saw ’em diving in the Dumpsters at the crab plant yesterday. Good thing you didn’t give them a lift, Jordan. Your truck would still reek.”

  Conversations filled in the gap until the noise level of the room ramped back up. The music pulsed again. “See?” Harlow said. “All you had to do is ask.”

  “Thanks.” Laurie Ann pushed her mostly full beer glass across the bar and prepared to leave. Harlow’s method of information gathering was crude but it worked. Now she had some ideas where the drunken duo had been. Neither of the reported locations was anywhere near her crime scene.

  Pity.

  “How about a kiss to pay me?” Harlow asked.

  She barely stopped a grimace. “Don’t think so.”

  “You wanna go out sometime?”

  “I don’t date coworkers.”

  “That’s a dumb rule.”

  She felt like a hypocrite, given that she’d kissed Wyatt. But she had no interest in Tom Harlow. She didn’t want to spend a minute more than she had to in his company.

  “We’re colleagues, and I plan to keep it that way.”

  “Colleagues? That sounds so formal. Can’t we be friends?”

  “We’re acquaintances. Please move aside. I’ve got another stop to make this evening.”

  To her chagrin, he fell in step beside her as she exited the bar. The evening air felt thick and close, boxing her and Harlow in.

  “Where are we going?” Harlow asked.

  “We’re not going anywhere. Get one of your buddies in there to give you a lift home.”

  “You could do it.”

  “Not happening. I hate being rude, but your tenacity is forcing me to be blunt. Leave m
e alone.”

  With that, she made her escape.

  The Main Mast was quieter, with folks sitting at candlelit tables. In the far corner, dapper Doug Morgan played the piano. The soft music filled the room, and she tried to relax with a deep breath. Not working. She strode to the bar and ordered a ginger ale. Before she could canvas the room, her realtor friend Megan invited her to sit at her table.

  “Love to,” Laurie Ann said in a breezy tone. The chemistry between Megan and Dave, newlyweds for four months now, fluoresced like a neon sign.

  Dave’s lopsided smile, his adorable cowlick, and his thickly lashed bedroom eyes had set every heart aflutter when he first moved to Mossy Bog. But it had been clear from the start that the blonde realtor was the only female he noticed.

  Lucky woman, Laurie Ann thought. Megan had a career she loved and a man who doted on her.

  “I want to hear all about the new man,” Megan said once they were settled. “We missed the fireworks at the picnic today, and that’s all anyone’s talked about.”

  Laurie Ann didn’t have to pretend confusion. “Fireworks?”

  “Patty said your new beau stuck by your side the entire time. Arletha said you came back from your beach walk flushed as if y’all were necking. Is he a good kisser? I want details before I explode from curiosity.”

  Laurie Ann gazed at the empty dance floor for a moment while she gathered herself. “Wyatt’s a friend, that’s all.”

  “You can do better than that. Dave doesn’t even believe you, do you, Dave?”

  Dave wore a pained expression from the elbow in his gut. He covered it with a smile. “I don’t believe you,” he said, following Megan’s lead.

  “We only met yesterday. Trust me, I’m not ready to bear his children,” Laurie Ann quipped, hoping that would defuse the inquiry.

  Megan’s face glowed with near-religious fervor. “Oh, my God. You kissed him.”

  “I’m trying to change the subject. Hint. Hint. I need information to help me solve James Brown’s homicide.”

  “What’s up with that?” Megan sipped her umbrella drink. “I thought the big guns handled murders.”

  Laurie Ann sighed with deep relief. Finally, the conversation was veering in the right direction. “They do. This is unusual. The chief and the sheriff thought it was an accidental death, and both of them are looking over my shoulder. If I make a mistake, I’ll be taken off the case.”