by Nancy Naigle
Her impression of the sheriff softened by the day, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been wrong about him, or if meeting Daphne and feeling so at home with her had also had an impact on her opinion of him. That had been right tricky of Daphne to try to set them up. Not effective, but tricky. It sounded just like something Momma would’ve tried. In fact, that was how she’d met Tripp. Her mom played Bunco with his mom and she just knew they’d be a perfect match, because he seemed like the best catch in Belles Corner to her.
Good-looking. Good job. Scott was apparently pretty good at his job if he was getting an award, and his momma was an absolute sweetheart.
Everyone in Adams Grove seemed to think Sheriff Scott Calvin was the big catch in this town. And it really annoyed her that she couldn’t deny that she was beginning to think so too.
She swung her car into an empty space behind the bank building. No sense driving to the newspaper when she could walk off the savory treats Daphne had served up. Besides, whenever she got all stirred up like this, it was best to burn off the anxiety with some exercise.
She must have put well over a thousand miles on her treadmill the year she lost her parents. If she hadn’t, she might have had a heart attack from all the stress or died from her sadness. Something she prayed for some days, because Lord knows it would have been easier than dealing with that emptiness, but then who would make sure there were flowers on their graves?
She hopped out of her car and cut through the building to get out on Main Street. A bright-turquoise-colored flyer fluttered in the breeze on the lamppost just outside the law office. The two tacks at the top were working overtime to hang on to the piece of paper since the summer breeze had ripped it from the bottom two. The whole pole was full of old staples and tacks hammered so deep into the soft pine that you’d never get them out.
She stopped to read the flyer. New classes at the yoga studio. They were adding a meditation hour and a smoothie bar Scrabble night. She used to be a kick-butt Scrabble player.
The police blotter entry that Scott was so adamant about nagged at her. Maybe an hour of yoga would do her good, and just a little peek at that painting wouldn’t hurt.
She tore one of the tabs with the phone number and details from the flyer and tucked it in her pocket, looking forward to stopping in the yoga studio to check things out. The first class started this afternoon.
Yoga had been on her to-do list for years, but she’d never tried it. If she gave it a whirl here, instead of at her gym at home, at least no one would know her if she looked like a fool trying it. Or maybe she’d be better off sticking to the smoothie night. She couldn’t screw that up. When she stopped in the County Gazette office, Jack was just sinking his teeth into a huge slice of pizza. The whole room reeked of tomato sauce and pepperoni.
He ran his sleeve across his mouth and just nodded since his mouth was full.
“That pizza smells great!” She tossed the report folder on his desk. “All done.”
“Hey. That was fast,” he mumbled through that mouthful of pizza. “We have the best pizza joint around. You’ll have to try it.” He pushed the half-open box toward her. “Have a piece.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” She grabbed the latest entries from the police blotter file for good measure. She figured it wasn’t worth hurting his or his sister’s feelings by telling him that she was getting the electronic version daily from Scott.
“You are fast!”
“We’re all squared away, but I have some news for you about Scott Calvin.”
“What’s up?” He swallowed the mouthful of pizza and then took a slug from a glass of sweet tea that had sweated a pool of water on the desk. “Big bust or something?”
“Nope. The sheriff is being honored up in Arlington tomorrow night. They’re presenting him with a pretty impressive award. He said it was for a recent case.”
“Isn’t that where you’re from?”
“It is.”
“Is that how you heard about it?”
“No. Actually, I overheard the sheriff on the phone talking about it while I was over there getting answers to some questions for the police blotter. It sounds like a very big deal.”
“Ohhhh.” Jack’s eyes went wide. “I’m not surprised. He captured the Goto Hell murderer. You had to hear about that one. Made national news.” He leaned forward. “We tried to keep it real hush-hush, but some things get out anyway. The town is still in shock about it. It was pretty terrifying to know that a killer like that was making himself at home in our community. Walking right down our streets every day.” He dropped his pizza like he’d just lost his appetite. “Sick man.” The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Frank Gotorow killed at least two women eight years ago. Rumor was there were more, but they couldn’t prove it. They called it the Goto Hell Murders. Isn’t it weird how some of those sickos just thrive on being famous for those awful things? Anyway, Scott helped catch him. Right here in Adams Grove.”
Savannah tried for an over-the-top facial expression so that he’d think he was telling her something she didn’t know, and to encourage him to keep filling in the blanks. Everyone had heard about the recapture of that crazy lunatic. Maybe he’d give her some details that hadn’t been in the news.
“Mike Hartman and another guy from Virginia Beach had both lost their wives to that sorry excuse of a human. That Gotorow guy came back for revenge. He almost got it too. Mike’s girlfriend was the target. With Scott’s help, they took the guy down before he could succeed.”
“Wow.”
Jack’s breathing got faster. “Yeah. That guy tried to cause trouble in the wrong town. Mike Hartman had just moved here after getting out of the Marines and his girlfriend had just transferred in as our new extension agent. Nice girl. She used to live in Virginia Beach. It was huge news. Just think. If it had happened somewhere else it could have ended so differently.”
“I guess it could have. I can’t imagine going through something like that.”
Jack nodded toward the pizza box. “It wasn’t without loss. I’m not talking about them killing him. That crazy guy deserved to die for all he did, but Goto killed one of the young guys who worked at the pizza joint.” He pointed to his pizza. “Made it look like a fire and planted his information on him, so people would think it was him. Neighbors said that Goto had been staying in that boy’s apartment for weeks. Heartless.”
“No surprise they’re recognizing your sheriff for that. If he hadn’t stopped that madman, it could’ve been another string of murders.”
“You got that right.”
She chased a shiver, only this time she wasn’t acting. It really did give her chills to think that someone that crazy had lived among these nice people, with the intent to do them harm. She needed to meet this girlfriend of her neighbor’s. “Well, I figured you’d want to send someone to cover the story. So I wanted to get over here and let you know. Glad I did. It’s an even bigger deal than I’d thought.” She turned to leave, but before she could get to the door he was hollering her way.
“Wait! I don’t have anyone to send.” He gulped from his glass of tea. “You’ve got to do this for me.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I can’t go. I have to cover things here. Plus you’re from up that way. You’ll know how to get around in that town and act right around all that pomp and circumstance.”
She laughed. “Look, I don’t mind helping out with the police blotter. I can even watch things here at the office for you, but I have things I have to do. Plus, I’m not so sure my editor is going to like the idea of me covering actual stories.” She put her hand on the doorknob.
“Please! Wait.”
There was nothing worse than a man begging. But seriously, how do you say no to an old man? He looked so desperate. She was a marshmallow when it came to saying no.
“You have to help me out. I’ll owe you one. I’l
l give you the full byline on the story and photo credits. You know how to take a picture, don’t ya?”
“Of course I know how to take a . . . No . . . I’m not going to that award ceremony. I don’t have a hotel reservation or anything.”
“Well, then you may as well have not told me.” He shoved the rest of the pizza straight into the trash can. Poor guy looked like she’d just about stabbed him in the heart by saying no. That pizza was the symbolic blood of her doings.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll do it. If you pick up the cost of the room.” She was sure that would be a deal breaker for the low-budget paper.
“Done! It’ll be great. I’ll call the sheriff and get all the details and make the reservations. The paper will pick up your room. Savannah, you really are saving the day.”
“Whoa. No need to call the sheriff. I’ve got the details right there on that sheet with the police blotter stuff. I’ll do it if you don’t tell him I’ll be the one there covering it.”
He paled. “Why not?”
“He’s kind of nervous about the whole thing and we don’t want to freak him out.” Besides that, the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was interested enough to make that kind of effort. She’d zip in, get the pictures and the story, and be done with it.
“Deal. Oh, wait.” He dug around in the drawer and pulled out a huge antiquated digital camera. “Here. For the pictures.”
She took the camera, but there wasn’t any way on earth she planned on using that doggone thing. It had to be one of the first digital cameras ever manufactured. It was huge. She flipped it over and popped out the memory card. That sucker was, like, two inches square. Darn near a floppy disk! She’d use her phone before she’d pull that thing out in public.
“Savannah, I owe you for this. You’ve been a godsend.”
“You’re welcome.” Just don’t throw me a doggone parade, she thought. Now to break it to Evelyn, and keep it from Scott. No sense in him getting the wrong idea, like she was interested or something. That’s all she needed.
She walked out of the County Gazette feeling good about helping Jack out . . . again. The good deeds were making her feel like part of the community, and that made her a little sad that she would be leaving in just a short while.
Savannah did a bicep curl with the camera. It had a neck strap, and needed one, as heavy as it was. She lifted it in the air over her head. It might weigh more than her laptop.
How had she let herself be talked into doing another favor for this town? What was it about these people that she got sucked into their issues so easily?
All the way back to the apartment she tried to figure out how she’d swing an outfit for the award ceremony. It was black tie, but her little black dress was a little too sexy for press credentials.
She’d have to shop or go home and change there. She had plenty to choose from in her closet, and then she could pick up some casual clothes for the rest of her semi-vacation. She could probably drop off the letters she’d selected for the Van column to Evelyn while she was there too. That would please Evelyn to no end.
She’d insisted Jack pay for a hotel to try to get him to back off, but she could easily have stayed in her apartment. It wasn’t but a forty-five-minute drive. The joke was on her . . . again. When would she learn that every time she tried to outwit someone, it backfired on her?
Her phone sounded off with that familiar ring of flying typewriter keys. “Hi, Evelyn. I was just thinking about you.”
“Good. You getting ready to send me another story?”
“Soon. Actually, I think I’m going to come back up to the city, just for one night tomorrow.”
“You’re already bored in that little town? You haven’t even given it a chance.”
“No. That’s not it. Well, maybe a little, but that’s not why I’m coming back.”
“What’s up?”
Savannah tried to sound nonchalant. “Remember that big award ceremony in Arlington tomorrow night?”
“Where your cute sheriff is the guest of honor?”
Savannah felt her stomach flip. Why was she nervous all of a sudden? “The paper here wants me to cover the awards. Do you mind? I mean, I know you want me to write those stories on the sheriff, so I could use it for that too, but I also know it could be a conflict. I’d never—”
“That’s fine with me, Savannah. Just be sure to use the time toward those other stories we talked about.”
“I can do that. I’ll send you a copy of my story too. Just so you know what I’m submitting.”
“Good. Either way. I have Franklin covering that event for us. You sound good. Are you getting a chance to relax down there in Adams Grove?”
I would if everybody would quit adding to my to-do list. “A little.”
“Chomping at the bit to get back yet?”
“No. Not yet, but I’m going to have to stop by my apartment to get something to wear. There’s nowhere to shop for something like that here, and I’d only packed for the wedding. I need a few things for while I’m here anyway.”
“Want to get together for dinner?”
“No.” Think fast . . . why not? She sure couldn’t tell her it was because she knew she was going to be frazzled about seeing Scott again. That would get Evelyn started for sure. She was always saying Savannah was too young to be single. The last thing Savannah needed was another cheerleader rooting for Scott Calvin. Daphne was enough to handle on that front. Nothing was going to come of it anyway. Plus, she was a little mad that Evelyn hadn’t offered her the story for GINN. “We’ll just talk about work if we do.”
“That’s true.”
“I picked out some letters from what you sent over. I’ll drop those off for you while I’m in town.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you doing that. Maybe now Andrew can actually write something. I swear he’s been sitting out there in that cube staring at the computer screen ever since you left. Not sure he’s going to be cut out for this. Not your problem, though.”
She hoped that would remain the case.
“Now get to work and write me those stories.”
“I’m on it. Thought of an interesting angle yesterday about the ratio of men to women in small towns. Could be fun.”
Evelyn let out a happy shriek. “Oh, my goodness. That could be great, like a twenty-first-century Looking for Mr. Goodbar, only more like looking for Mr. . . .”
“Mr. Feed and Seed?”
“That’s hysterical.”
Not talking stories was nearly impossible for the two of them.
“I’ve got to run. I’ll drop that stuff off to you tomorrow.”
Savannah hung up the phone. She and Franklin had never really gotten along. He was way too big for his britches. She’d found out the hard way when she’d given in and gone out on a date with him. Big mistake. He was always on shaky ground with Evelyn. He’d tried a couple of times to better his reputation by trying to sully hers. Thank goodness, Evelyn knew better. Savannah could do without his tacky come-ons too. The guy would never give up. Hopefully, she could stay out of his sights at the dinner.
He’d give his eyeteeth to be in Evelyn’s good graces . . . or better yet, Savannah’s eyeteeth!
Savannah worked on the second article for GINN for a little while, but the truth was she couldn’t get her mind off that police blotter entry that Scott had told her to forget about. It kept nagging at her. She glanced at the clock. She had just enough time to get to that class over at Happy Balance. She was already in her yoga pants. She could totally still make it. Work, or research?
She didn’t even need to flip a coin to decide. She jumped from her chair and got the rest of her clothes to match the pants, then ran down the stairs. Mike was just getting ready to climb the stairs when she hit the bottom step.
“Where are you off to in such a big hurry?”
She hopped to the landing. “I’m going to check out the yoga class.”
“Oh, you’ll probably like it. My girlfriend’s best friend runs the place.”
That caught Savannah’s attention. “Really? What’s her name?”
“Jenny. She and Brooke moved here from Virginia Beach not long ago.”
Just as Jack had said. “I’ll have to look for her.”
“Good luck with that class. I went down there one night. I thought that slow yoga stuff would be for sissies, but I have to tell you it about kicked my ass.”
“I’ll let you know how it goes.”
He grabbed the railing and began to head upstairs. “You do that.”
She stepped out onto the sidewalk wondering if she should have stuck to the Scrabble smoothie plan.
It was only a short walk to the yoga studio, but she didn’t know if she’d need to register, so she didn’t dawdle. When she grabbed the handle of the heavy wooden storefront door, there must have been at least twenty people already there. A few sipped smoothies while the die-hards were already on their mats stretching or meditating. She wandered through the space, checking out the artwork on the walls. None of them seemed too extra special. In fact, most were just sayings and quotes with silhouettes of people in various poses. Unless you called the corpse pose a threat, she wasn’t seeing anything to worry about. Maybe Scott was right. She shrugged off the nagging doubt and focused on the opportunity to give something new a try.
“Can I help you?” asked a pretty gal dressed in black yoga pants and a nearly transparent flowing, colorful top over a black camisole. The top was so wispy it made her look as delicate as a butterfly.
“Yes. I’m just in town visiting. I’ve never done yoga, but always wanted to try. I thought I’d do that today. Here.”
“Perfect! I’d love that. I’m Jenn. I own the place.”