by Gerri Hill
“Gloria Mendez,” she said. “She’s a sheriff’s deputy.”
“Oh. So you’re passing on a dinner date?”
Murphy smiled. “Well, yeah. I thought you were cooking. You know, I get leftovers that way.”
“Well, if you want to ditch me for someone else, I’ll understand. Are you…dating?”
“Gloria? No. I mean, we’ve gone out a few times. She had me over for dinner one night.”
Had her over, meaning they didn’t go out to eat. Was it an intimate dinner? she wondered. Even if they weren’t technically dating, that didn’t mean they weren’t sleeping together. That, of course, was absolutely none of her business. Her curiosity, however, got the better of her, and she feigned ignorance as to who Gloria Mendez was.
“Is she new there? I don’t recall her name. Not that I know everyone at the sheriff’s department, but in this town, women on the force are rare.”
“She’s fairly new, yeah. She’s young. Twenty-four, I think.”
“So not dating but there’s a possibility?”
Murphy raised an eyebrow. “Are you fishing for gossip to share with Lori?”
Kayla nearly blushed. Yeah, she was fishing for gossip, but she was only being nosy for herself. She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. “No, just being curious, that’s all.”
They crossed over the interstate, getting caught at the light on the other side. Murphy stopped behind an eighteen-wheeler, then pushed the button to roll her window up.
“No breeze and the smell of diesel,” she explained. “Reminds me too much of the city.” She said nothing else, so apparently she didn’t feel the need to answer the dating question. Kayla didn’t blame her really. It wasn’t any of her business who—or if—Murphy was dating.
When the light changed to green, they drove past several of the newer travel stops that combined gas and diesel with a convenience store and fast-food places. Taco Bell, Burger King, Whataburger, Sonic, Pizza Hut, Subway, Arby’s…you name it, it was here. When she was growing up, their only option besides the local Dairy Mart had been when McDonald’s had come to town. She still remembered the grand opening…their high school band had performed. Looking at all of it now, she thought she much preferred the old days. Now, it was just a conglomeration here along the interstate, seemingly no rhyme or reason to any of it.
“Do you know how far down it is?”
“Dad said it was on the right, just past all of this mess.”
Murphy laughed. “I see you’re not fond of chain restaurants either.”
“It just clutters up everything, doesn’t it? Although, I’m sure most of the locals like having all these choices now.”
“Yeah, and I’ll admit, I’ve popped into the Subway a couple of times. And I’ve had a pizza delivered.”
“There’s the sign,” she said, pointing to Niemeyer Trucking.
“What is it that he does?”
“I have no clue.”
There were two cars parked outside the office building. Three large trucks—tractors—were parked against the fence, but there were no trailers in sight.
They heard laughter coming from inside the office. Murphy pushed the door opened, and the laughter ceased almost immediately. Two young women, early twenties, were sitting behind two desks.
“May I help you?” one asked.
“Looking for Mr. Niemeyer,” Murphy said.
The girl shook her head. “Oh, sorry. He didn’t come in today.”
“Are you looking to rent a truck?” the other asked. “’Cause we can help with that.”
“No, actually we’re just wanting to speak with Mr. Niemeyer,” Murphy said.
“Would we be able to find him at his home perhaps?” Kayla asked.
“There was an email from him this morning that said he wouldn’t be in, that he had to go out of town,” the first girl said. “So I don’t guess he’s there. Are y’all friends of his?”
She and Murphy exchanged glances. The last thing they needed was to tell these two young girls that the cops were out looking for their boss. They’d be on the phone before the door closed behind them. Apparently Murphy thought the same thing.
“Yes,” she said. “He’d told us to drop by sometime. I guess we should have called first.”
The girl smiled and nodded. “He’s usually always here. Unless he’s got some business to do. You know, he’s the mayor and all.”
“Yes. Say…you don’t happen to have his cell phone number, do you?”
At that, the girl hesitated. “Well, I do, but in the past, he’s asked us not to give it out to anyone.”
“I understand,” Murphy said. “Well, we’ll stop by another time then.”
They walked back to the truck in silence. Only when they’d both gotten inside and Murphy had started it up did they speak.
“Well, what do you think?”
“We could go by his house, but if he’s truly out of town and his wife is there, it’ll raise some questions,” she said.
“So we’ll make up something,” Murphy said as she pulled away. “We need his blessing as mayor for some charity event we want to start.”
“Okay, I’m game. Only I don’t know where he lives.”
“Well, thanks to Tim, he’s taken me around town enough that I think I can find it. There’s a really nice subdivision out past the high school. Guy Woodard’s house is out that way too.”
Murphy pulled into the driveway of the house she was “ninety percent certain” was the Niemeyer’s place. Just to be sure, Kayla did a quick Google search on her phone to verify.
“Yes, this is it.”
At the front door, Murphy rang the doorbell. It was a rather loud, obnoxious chime that could be heard easily from the front porch. However, they neither saw nor heard any movement from inside. She rang it again, then knocked. Still nothing.
“I’ll go peek in the garage,” Kayla said.
The garage doors were solid without windows so she walked around to the side, hoping the neighbors weren’t watching her. She glanced through the side window, finding the two-car garage empty. She turned, surprised to find Murphy standing behind her.
“Empty,” she said, answering Murphy’s silent question. “No one’s home.”
“I guess you better call the chief and find out what he wants us to do.”
Chapter Eighteen
It seemed a little strange to be at the grocery store, picking up things to cook dinner—albeit for a very attractive woman—in the middle of a murder investigation. However, her father had told her to “just lay low,” whatever that meant, until morning. He was going to try to find the mayor himself. He had connections, he said. Again…whatever that meant. He was being extremely secretive, and no amount of questioning on her part had gotten anything out of him. He told her not to worry and that if she wanted to—as long as there was no police business discussed—she could come over for dinner. She declined.
So here she was with a list of ingredients needed to make two different dishes. Something simple that wouldn’t take too long—a skillet casserole. That was her first choice, although she had no idea how stocked Murphy’s kitchen was. Did she even have a skillet? Her second choice was chicken parmesan, but then that meant doing some side dishes. The skillet casserole had broccoli in it. No need for an added veggie dish.
“What if she doesn’t like broccoli?”
“Excuse me?”
She smiled at the lady standing next to her. “Sorry. Talking to myself.” She sighed, then pulled her phone out of her pocket. Murphy answered on the first ring. “Do you have a cast-iron skillet and do you like broccoli?”
Murphy laughed. “Are you at the grocery store already?”
“Yes.”
“I told you not to go to any trouble,” Murphy reminded her. “But yes, I like broccoli.”
“And the skillet?”
“Let me look. All this kitchen stuff was already here.” She heard cabinets opening and closing and finally an “ah
ha.”
“Does that mean yes?”
“It’s like a cast iron convention. There’s at least ten different ones here. Who needs that many?”
“People who cook. See you in a bit.”
She was smiling and she wasn’t entirely sure why. Was it just the prospect of having dinner with an attractive woman after nearly eight long months of celibacy? Not just celibacy. But she hadn’t even been on a date since she’d ended things with Jennifer. Not that this was a date. Neither of them had even suggested anything of the sort. But yeah, she liked Murphy. They got along well as work partners and they seemed to be in tune with each other. Professionally was completely different than personally, though. She knew that firsthand. Still, she thought Murphy might be interested in getting to know her better as well, even if it was only as friends. At least they would each have someone to hang out with. Of course, there was Gloria Mendez. Maybe Murphy already had someone to hang out with.
That thought made her smile fade somewhat as she selected an onion from the bin. So they’d have dinner, hang out, watch TV or something, that’s all. It wasn’t a date.
* * *
The kitchen was already clean and tidy, but Murphy wiped down the countertop again anyway. She didn’t know why she was feeling nervous. Maybe because she hadn’t entertained another woman at her place in a very long time. One of the benefits of not cooking was never having people over. She would go to their place instead. That way, she could end the evening whenever she wanted, depending on how the date was going.
Of course, this wasn’t a date. Kayla Dixon was straight. Gorgeous and straight…a damn shame. At least Kayla was open to being friends though. She hadn’t known her long, but she already knew that she clicked better with Kayla than she did with Gloria. Again, it could just be the age difference with Gloria, but there really wasn’t any attraction there. Kayla? Yeah, those blue eyes seemed to draw her in, and she had a hell of a time getting back out again—which was why she had to constantly remind herself that Kayla was straight.
Maybe being friends with her wasn’t such a great idea after all. Gloria would definitely be the safer option. She stared off into space, trying to picture Gloria’s face. She was having a hard time recalling any features. An image of Kayla popped into her mind easily, though…the blue eyes that seemed to be filled with light, the tiny laugh line that showed when she smiled, the barest hint of a dimple in one cheek. She sighed.
“She’s straight. Remember that.”
Later, however, she was having a hard time clinging to her self-warning. She’d volunteered to cut up the broccoli, volunteered to help cook, of all things. Even though it was a very large kitchen, it was much too small, as they seemed to be bumping into each other at every turn. When Kayla’s hip nudged hers, scooting her out of the way, she very nearly dropped the knife.
“It is such a joy to have a big kitchen again,” Kayla said. “You lucked into this house.”
“Yeah, I know. When we get this into the oven, I’ll show you around. The backyard and porch are wonderful.” She wiped her hands on a towel, eyeing the wine bottles on the counter. She had brought out two—both red. Kayla had brought along a bottle of chardonnay which she’d slipped into the fridge when she got there. “You want a glass of wine?”
“Sure. You can choose,” she said. “I’m not at all picky when it comes to wine.”
“I’m not an expert on food pairings, but I assume one of the reds would go better with dinner. How about I open the chardonnay?”
“That’s fine. I’m about ready to assemble this thing, then it’s forty minutes in the oven.”
Murphy leaned against the counter, watching as Kayla mixed in the ground beef with the pasta.
“So Earl said to lay low, huh. What do you think he’s up to?”
“I wish I knew. And Uncle Ned? I still can’t believe he’s mixed up in this. No matter how Dad tries to spin it, Uncle Ned is looking at some serious charges.”
“Unless Earl plans to ignore it.”
“Ignore it? Ned confessed to three cops. How can he ignore it? How can we ignore it?”
“Oh, come on, Kayla. You worked for the FBI. I’ve been around long enough to know that this sort of thing happens all the time. Things get swept under the rug depending on the circumstances.” She shrugged. “It’s common knowledge.”
Kayla turned around to face her. “Yes, sure, I admit I’ve heard of things like that. But I’ve never been a part of it. This is different, though. Dad won’t have the clout of the FBI to back him. If it got out—and it will—that he covered this up to protect his brother, not only would his career be over, but he’d be looking at obstruction charges.” She shook her head as she turned back to her casserole. “It’s his brother, I know, and that makes it personal, but I still can’t see him ignoring what we know. If it was just me…maybe he’d try. But you were there too.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to follow an order I didn’t agree with,” she said.
“If it was only Uncle Ned, then maybe. But there are too many other players involved. And as it stands, it’s because of the drugs that Guy Woodard and Lance Foster are dead. It’s all going to come out, one way or another.”
Murphy leaned over and opened the oven door, getting a smile from Kayla in return as she put the casserole inside.
“Now, how about a tour of that back porch? I’ve had enough police talk.”
“Sure, come on.” She pointed to a small door off the kitchen. “That goes out to the porch too, but we’ll be formal and use the doors in the living room.”
Kayla picked up her wineglass and followed her. “So all of this furniture was here? This is a beautiful hutch,” she said, running her hand along the wood.
“Yeah. When I landed this house, I sold all of my stuff but my bed. I figured it would be easier to buy new things when I needed it rather than go through the hassle of moving everything.” She shrugged. “Besides, I didn’t have anything that special.”
Kayla nodded. “I think if I’d scored a place like this, I’d have sold my furniture too.”
The double glass doors that opened out onto the covered back porch were one of her favorite features of the house. She opened them wide, then stepped aside to let Kayla go out.
“Oh, my God. This is fantastic,” Kayla said. “It’s big enough to make an outdoor living room out here.” She turned to her, her eyes wide with a smile on her face. “What a great place to watch football games!”
“Is that a hint?”
“Yes! I’ll even bring the food. We could have a tailgate party right out here.”
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Murphy had an easy time imagining them enjoying a game together.
“Great yard too,” Kayla continued. “Do you have to keep it up?”
“No. She already had someone coming once a week, so I kept them on. I’d be lost. I haven’t mowed a lawn since I was ten.”
“Ten? Isn’t that when you said your family moved to Houston?”
Murphy nodded. “Yeah, I was devastated at first. I thought my world was ending. Didn’t want to leave my friends, my cousins, my grandmother,” she said, smiling. “I still miss my grandmother.”
“She’s still alive?”
“Oh, yeah. Still lives in Eagle Lake. When my parents retired, they built a house on her property so they’re right there, but she still gets around. She still has a garden. She’s eighty-three and shows no signs of slowing down.”
“Do you visit much?”
“Not enough, no. Of course, I was a lot closer when I lived in Houston, but there never seemed to be enough time. I’d get back for a day here and there. Two days if I was lucky.”
“What’s that area like? Eagle Lake.”
“Oh, the town itself is a lot like Sawmill Springs, like most small towns, really.” She leaned against one of the banisters. “Coastal prairie, farmland, rice farms. Got wooded areas but not like here. Live oaks, mostly, some yaupon thickets, cedars
. Not the rolling hills and big tall trees like we’ve got here, but still pretty.”
“So when you left Houston, why here? Why Sawmill Springs?”
“There were openings in other towns, some smaller than this, some larger, but when I visited here, I felt like it was the right size. Plus, it wasn’t too far from the city if I wanted to go back and it’s not that terribly far from home, less than four hours.” As their eyes met, she knew what the next question was going to be.
“Why did you leave Houston?”
She swirled the little bit of wine that was left in her glass before drinking it. She sighed, meeting Kayla’s eyes again. “I killed someone.”
The blue eyes that stared back at her were filled with nothing but compassion. “You want to tell me about it?” she asked softly.
Another sigh. Did she want to tell Kayla about Leon? About the drug bust the FBI had all arranged…the one that went horribly bad? She hadn’t told her family; hadn’t told her grandmother. In fact, she hadn’t told anyone. The guys in her squad knew what happened, her lieutenant, her captain. And the FBI knew, of course.
She walked back inside, the smell of the casserole in the oven reminding her of how hungry she was. She opened the fridge and took out the wine bottle, filling her glass nearly to the top. She turned, finding Kayla beside her. She added to her glass as well before corking the bottle again.
“His name was Leon,” she said. “He was my informant. He was my friend.” She swallowed a sip of wine. “And I shot him.”
Kayla pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, waiting for her to continue. She took a deep breath, blowing it out quickly. She sat down across from her, her fingers twisting the stem of the wineglass aimlessly as scenes from that night danced through her mind. Darkness, then bright lights, then darkness again. Shouts. Screams. Gunfire. People running. The fire. Sirens. And more screams.
She ran a hand through her hair, brushing it away from her eyes. “I was approached by the FBI—two pricks who are lucky I didn’t shoot them,” she said bitterly. “Leon had been secretly working for them. Leon’s cousin was in deep with a gang and they were running drugs. That wasn’t the real reason the FBI wanted them though. They’d killed someone from a rival gang, someone who was set to testify in some big drug case. This was more about revenge on their part.”