Don't Forget Me

by Meg Benjamin

  Right now, Aunt Allie was sort of living with Steve, whom everybody called Wonder Dentist for reasons Kit had never understood. But Allie wasn’t completely living with Steve. She still had half her pots and pans and kitchen gadgets in her own kitchen. Considering that she was a professional chef and baker, one of Konigsburg’s most celebrated, leaving her All-Clad copper core skillet at her own house instead of taking it over to Steve’s had a lot of symbolic significance.

  Kit started to pull out the key Allie had given her, then realized that the kitchen lights were on. Her aunt must be home after all.

  She pushed open the front door. “Hey.”

  Allie glanced up from her cup of coffee and her copy of the Konigsburg Herald-Zeitung. Across from her, Steve was finishing a piece of what looked like blackberry pie.

  “Hey.” She smiled absently. “Any luck with the Cotton Palace?”

  Kit shook her head. “They’re fully staffed. Said they’d keep me in mind, but I’m not holding my breath, not in this job market.”

  Allie shrugged. “You’ll find something. You’ve got a good degree in Management, and lord knows you’ve got hospitality experience.”

  Steve gave her a wry smile, pushing his horn-rims up his long nose. “Given the number of lame waiters I’ve run into lately, I’d say you’re just what this town needs.”

  Kit sighed. “Right.” She flopped into a chair opposite her aunt. “I’d just as soon not go the waitress route, thank you very much.”

  “Have you tried the hotels yet? I heard they’re redoing the Millsberger Building into some kind of ritzy bed and breakfast.” Steve shoveled in the last bite of his pie. Judging from his expression, he was considering licking the plate.

  Kit shook her head. “I’ll start doing the hotel rounds tomorrow. I don’t think the Millsberger project is very far along, though. Some of their backers are supposedly getting cold feet.”

  Steve’s jaw tightened. “Seems to be a persistent problem around this town.”

  Allie glanced at him, then folded her paper in a flurry of rustling pages. “There’s some leftover lasagna in the refrigerator or you can make yourself a sandwich if you’re hungry.”

  “Maybe I’ll head on home.” Steve pushed himself to his feet, then gave Allie a long look. “Care to join me?”

  Allie shook her head, keeping her gaze on Kit. “Not tonight. There’s also some potato salad in the plastic bowl.”

  “Okay.” Kit moved to the counter where she had a better view of the action. Or non-action in this case. She pulled a jar of mustard out of the refrigerator along with bread and cheese.

  Steve sighed, still staring down at Allie. “All right then. See you tomorrow.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  For a moment she held his hand, then she gave him a tight smile. “See you tomorrow.”

  Kit watched him walk out the door and down the drive as she smeared mustard onto the seven-grain bread on the cutting board. Something definitely not right there. She turned back to Allie as she added slices of ham and American cheese.

  Her aunt picked up Steve’s plate and carried it to the sink. “So what’s new in San Antonio?” she said in a voice that sounded overly bright. “How’s Tony? I haven’t talked to him for a month or so.”

  Kit cut her sandwich into precise triangles. “Papi’s fine. Mami’s fine. Arturo is fine. Everything’s fine.”

  A moment of silence stretched between them, then Allie cleared her throat. “Okay, that sounds a little like overstatement. Care to explain?”

  Kit took a deep breath. “He’s selling the restaurant.”

  Allie blinked. “Tony? His restaurant? How could he…” She put a hand to her throat, her voice suddenly tight. “He’s not sick, is he?”

  “Papi? He’s fine. I mean, he’s tired but he’s not sick. So far as I know.”

  “Then why?” Allie’s forehead furrowed. “Why would he sell the restaurant? It’s been the center of his life. I mean…besides Lara and you kids.”

  Kit managed not to grimace. Sometimes Antonio’s Fine Mexican Cuisine had seemed to be the only center of her father’s life. “He got an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

  “Who from?”

  “The Romano Group.” Kit took a quick bit of her sandwich. “Sal Romano’s company. They want to expand into Mexican food.”

  “And Tony sold?” Allie shook her head. “People have been trying to buy him out for years. What made Sal different?”

  Kit shrugged. “Timing, I guess. This time Papi was ready.” She managed to keep her tone light. Good for you, Catarina.

  “But what are Tony and Lara going to do?”

  “They’re moving to South Padre Island.” Kit ran her fork through the potato salad, pretending to take a bite. “They’ve got a condo north of town. Near Pat and Rodolfo and the grandkids.”

  Allie’s jaw dropped. “They’re moving? Selling the house? Leaving you kids?”

  Kit nodded, eyes on her plate. “Papi was afraid if he stayed around, he’d want to keep an eye on the restaurant. So he decided the best thing to do was just to leave.”

  “What about you?” Her aunt narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you came up here, Kit?”

  Kit shrugged. “Partly, I guess. I might have come up here anyway.” But probably not, given everyone who lives here.

  Allie leaned forward, putting her hand over Kit’s on the table. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetheart. No matter why you came.”

  “I am too.” Kit forced the corners of her mouth to turn up. “Really.”

  And you’re sure you mean that, Catarina?

  Kevin Brody took a long look down Main Street. Konigsburg. He hadn’t set foot here in years, and the last time he’d been moving too quickly to pay much attention. He wondered now if he’d realized that was the last time he’d see the place. Probably. At any rate he’d hoped it would be, since at the time, going back again would probably have meant being in handcuffs. All in all he hadn’t been that sorry to leave.

  Now he studied the unchanging contours of the main drag. Still as wide as it had been when the first settlers had moved in. Streets meant for cattle drives and the occasional stage coach. Looked like the town had continued to use diagonal parking down most of Main. He would have argued against that if he’d been able to stick around. Made the place look like some Podunk Center. Plus it made for traffic problems at what passed for rush hour. They needed a parking garage or a municipal lot somewhere.

  He started down the sidewalk past the German beer garden on the corner of Milam and Main. New shops were scattered all around the streets. Fewer T-shirt shops. More wine stores, boutiques, even a place that looked like it specialized in fancy stuff for dogs. He shook his head. Tourists. Buy anything you put under their noses.

  A couple of men lurched out of the Dew Drop Inn a few yards down from where he stood, and he fought the impulse to duck his head. He’d lost weight since his last time in town. His hair was grayer and longer. And he wore jeans and a T-shirt, clothes far removed from the ones he used to wear. Plus his face had never been particularly distinctive. People weren’t inclined to remember him. Even if the men had known him from before, they wouldn’t know him now.

  Still, it was risky coming into town like this. He couldn’t afford to do it too often. He wasn’t inclined to take unnecessary risks this time around. Not after what had happened last time.

  He slowed his gait slightly to let the men get to their cars, pretending some interest in the shop windows along the street. Ahead of him a folding sidewalk sign indicated Brenner’s Restaurant, which had been around when he’d been in town before. Nice place from what he could remember. Not that he’d ever gone there to eat. Too expensive. Too high class for his tastes, or the tastes he’d indulged when he’d lived here.

  He glanced in a few more windows, then stopped. Kent’s Hill Country Books. His jaw tightened. Now there was a place he remembered all too well, unfortunately. He wasn’t exactly surprised to see it was st
ill around, but during the years he’d been gone he’d hoped that it might have gone out of business. Occasionally, he’d pictured Docia Kent broke and on her way out of town, but of course she’d always have the Kent family money to back her up.

  He flexed his shoulders, fighting the tightness in his chest. He didn’t have time for useless emotions like anger. He had a job to do, and once it was done, he’d be gone and never set foot in Konigsburg again.

  Still, Kent’s Hill Country Books. He took a long look at the window, then shrugged. Time enough to figure things out. He had a few weeks at least until he had to act. It might be interesting to see exactly what he could come up with to entertain himself in Konigsburg.

  Particularly if that entertainment helped him do what needed to be done.

  He turned and headed back toward his truck. Time to get out of town for now. He’d be back again soon enough.

  Chapter Two

  Nando sat at his desk in the Konigsburg Police Station, trying to finish some paperwork while nursing his throbbing head. He’d gone straight home after seeing Kit outside Kent’s Hill Country Books. Fortunately, he hadn’t run into anybody who wanted anything from him since he wouldn’t have been able to hold a coherent conversation. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, he’d had an almost-full bottle of Jim Beam at home. Said bottle was now half empty and Nando’s head was close to splitting in two.

  At the front desk, Helen Kretschmer gave him a quick, assessing glance, her lips spreading up in a faintly sardonic grin. Helen was maybe on the near side of fifty, steel gray hair in a tight frizz around her head, pale green eyes that could pierce body armor. Chief Toleffson had made her a full-fledged officer of the Konigsburg Police Department, which allowed her to wear a uniform. Once she finished her mandatory training with the state, she’d also be given a gun. After that happened, Nando figured every hood in town would be heading down the highway toward Kerrville as fast as their jalopies would move. One look at Helen with a Glock on her hip would send the most hardened criminal packing.

  He blew out a long breath, massaging his aching forehead. At least the coffee she’d given him had made a slight dent in his agony. Realistically, he’d known he’d have to run into Kit Maldonado sooner or later. She visited her Aunt Allie regularly. But he’d hoped he could put it off for a while, possibly a long while. Maybe until he’d forgotten just how shapely those legs of hers were, or how her hair fell in an unbroken curtain of black silk when she raised her head to look at him. Or how she felt when…

  His head gave a particularly vicious throb and Nando gritted his teeth. He’d been an idiot in his relationship with Kit Maldonado, but thinking about it after all this time was pointless. Sooner or later he’d run into her face-to-face and they’d get that first awkward conversation over with. Then he could go back to whatever the hell it was he was going to do with his life from now on. Both celibacy and debauchery looked pretty bleak at the moment. Hell, consciousness looked pretty bleak at the moment.

  The front door of the station slammed, which sent his head to a new level of pain. He squinted toward the front desk where Helen was glaring at the doorway.

  Ham Linklatter was hanging his hat on the rack.

  “Christ on a crutch, Linklatter,” Nando muttered. “Do you have to slam the goddamn door?”

  Ham shrugged. “Wind took ahold of it. Couldn’t stop it.” He dropped into his desk at the front where Helen could keep an eye on him. The general consensus of opinion was that Ham couldn’t do much damage as long as Helen made sure he was working on whatever the hell he’d been given to do, assuming that wasn’t a major task.

  Nando closed his eyes briefly. Better Helen than him.

  “What are you doing here at this time of the morning anyway, Linklatter?” Helen growled. “You got night duty this week.”

  “Got something to take care of.”

  Linklatter turned on the computer near his desk, leaning back slightly from the keyboard as if he thought it might explode. Given his general level of competence with electronic equipment, he might not have been far off. He smoothed a hand over his thinning blond hair, flattening it against his skull. It looked a little like blond seaweed straggling across his boney forehead.

  According to town gossip, Ham had gotten back together with Margaret Hastings again. Nando had had no idea Margaret was so hard up.

  He heard the door open one more time and glanced up to see Chief Toleffson gathering the mail from the inbox. He nodded at Ham, then narrowed his eyes at Nando. “You look like death badly warmed over.”

  “Just a headache,” Nando muttered, rubbing his eyes.

  “Okay, take an aspirin and come on back. I’ve got some things to go over with you.” Toleffson headed down the hall toward his office. He looked more like a cop than any man Nando had ever known, like he should be on a recruiting poster for the forces of Truth and Justice. Since he was also six foot five or so and built like a Corinthian pillar, messing with the forces of Truth and Justice in Konigsburg was not a good idea. Between Toleffson and Sheriff Friesenhahn at the county level, evildoers tended to give the town a pass.

  Nando swallowed three more aspirin. At this rate he’d probably reduce his stomach to Swiss cheese before anything could put a dent in the Headache From Hell. He pushed himself up from his desk and headed down the hall after Toleffson, aware of Ham’s baleful glance as he did.

  Ham had never quite gotten over not being promoted to Konigsburg Chief of Police, and he kept hoping the City Council might reconsider its decision to hire Toleffson instead. Nando figured Ham had a nice little bungalow in the Land of Denial.

  Toleffson gestured toward the chair in front of his desk as he read through a couple of bulletins from DPS. “Are you as hungover as you look?” he asked without looking up.

  “More, probably.” Nando rubbed his eyes again.

  Toleffson narrowed his eyes slightly. Everybody knew he didn’t drink. Nando wasn’t sure whether he was a former alcoholic or not, but he was currently as upright as they came. Also thoroughly married and devoted to wife and family. All in all, an annoyingly decent man. The chief narrowed his eyes. “Can you handle duty?”

  “I’ll be fine once I drink a pot of coffee.” Nando profoundly hoped that was true.

  “Okay.” Toleffson leaned back in his chair, tossing the bulletins into a tray on his desk. “Here’s the deal. I finally managed to hire a replacement for Peavey. He’s supposed to get here this morning. I want you to show him the ropes.”

  Nando blinked. Curtis Peavey had retired a couple of months ago. It had taken the chief some time to get the authorization to hire a replacement, particularly with the town’s tight budget, but apparently once the authorization had come through, he’d moved with the speed of a diving red-tail hawk. “Who is it?”

  “Kid named Clayton Delaney. Know him?”

  Nando shook his head. “Doesn’t ring any bells. He from around here?”

  “Sort of. Folks live outside Johnson City. He went to ACC. Took courses in Criminal Justice. Seems like a smart kid.”

  Nando leaned back in his chair. “Good. Curtis was smart, too, but he didn’t have much stamina left. He couldn’t run anymore. Be a nice change to get somebody who’s smart and fit.”

  Neither of them mentioned Linklatter. Ham’s level of cluelessness was a given, but he’d been with the department longer than either of them, and getting rid of him would be more trouble than it was worth.

  Toleffson nodded. “Okay. Take Delaney out with you today and show him how things work. Give him a ride around town. I don’t imagine it’ll take him much time to get focused, but you can keep an eye on him for a couple of weeks or so.”

  “No problem.” Nando pushed himself forward as a preface to getting up. “Anything else?”

  Toleffson leaned back, steepling his hands on his chest. “Yeah. Got some interesting news at the City Council meeting last night.”

  Nando sat still, his muscles suddenly tensing.
News from the City Council was rarely good.

  “A while back I suggested a new position here, Assistant Chief. We’ve got a growing population. We need somebody to take up some of the slack, oversee all the special policing for fairs and festivals and liaise with DPS. Plus it would give us two people on call for emergencies like that night when the Faro got hit and I was out of town. City Council’s decided to go along with it.”

  Nando stared at him, trying to understand what was happening here.

  “Not much additional money for salary, but some. And an office when we get around to reorganizing the station. And some travel money,” Toleffson continued. “Like I say, not much but some. I gave them my recommendation last night and they accepted it.”

  Nando’s jaw tightened. Several interesting possibilities occurred to him. “Are you posting the position announcement today?”

  Toleffson shook his head, his gaze sharpening. He leaned forward again, resting his hands on the desktop. “I don’t have to. I already made my decision. You’re it. Delaney’s just come on, Helen’s not eligible until she finishes the damn training courses, and Ham’s, well, Ham. Congratulations, et cetera.”

  “Thanks.” Nando’s chest clenched. Maybe it was the hangover, but something about Toleffson’s explanation made him uneasy. “Why do I sense a but coming up here?”

  The chief gave him a dry grin. “Because there is one. And you know it already. But there’s still some sympathy for old Ham around town and on the council. Nobody much wanted him to be chief except our departed crook of a former mayor, but a lot of people felt sorry for him when he got passed over even though they were glad he didn’t get the job. Felt like he got his feelings hurt.”

  “So he should be assistant chief because of his hurt feelings?” Nando’s headache gave another vicious throb.

  Toleffson shook his head. “Not necessarily. I said people feel sorry for him, but he’s still an idiot, and everybody knows that too. Most people in town know you’re the only logical choice for this. The thing is, though, the Council wants a probationary period as part of the deal. Six weeks. Just make sure you don’t do anything stupid for the next couple of weeks. I’m talking Dudley Do-Right, Nando. No screw-ups. No massive hangovers.”