The Grand Opening

by Ava Miles

  The road flattened out into a lush valley dotted with manicured lawns like a high–priced golf resort, except she could still see the square pattern of newly laid sod. Her foot paused on the pedal when she saw the hotel. Since she knew she had him caged, she eased off the gas as a florist truck approached. The driver pulled over to let her streak by.

  The hotel swallowed up her vision as the Ferrari shot into a discrete parking deck in a flash of silver. She followed, taking in the elegant stonework of the three–story building and the shine of glass and brass. It was fancy, with a hint of something out of an old movie—like the Cary Grant dimple in Mac’s chin.

  It fit him to a T.

  She turned off the sirens before entering the parking deck. No sense in making herself deaf from the sound ricocheting off the walls. His car straddled the yellow line, taking up two spaces. Since a nameplate labeled his space, she figured no one would care about his shitty parking job.

  She called dispatch. “Have it under control.”

  Her scan of the deck didn’t reveal his whereabouts. She jogged toward a metal door. When she came through the entrance, it took her a minute to gauge her surroundings.

  The long corridor had a shiny walnut hardwood floor. She delighted in being the first person to give it scuff marks. The chandeliers in reception shot gas flames into crystal sconces, making her wonder about the utility bill.

  “May I help you, Officer?”

  She turned to see a stiff–lipped guy in his fifties decked out in a dark burgundy uniform with gold buttons and some fancy epaulettes. The crisp fabric looked like her first police uniform, which had itched like crazy. The guy’s shoes even mirrored her reflection when she stepped closer. Cripes, this place simply reeked boutique hotel, right down to the pine scent accenting the cool, circulated air.

  “It’s Deputy Sheriff. I need to see Maven. Now.”

  “Mr. Maven is in a meeting. Would you like some coffee while you wait?”

  In a meeting. As if. “What part of ‘now’ don’t you understand?”

  When he didn’t budge, she crowded him. His polite smile thinned, she noted with delight.

  “Where’s his office?”

  “Ah…let me call up for you.”

  She snagged his arm before he could go behind the cherry wood partition. “No, take me to him. He’s done surprising me for the day.”

  His lips pinched. “Fine, I’d be happy to show you upstairs if you’ll kindly remove your hand.”

  She did, glad to see he had some backbone, and followed him up a sweeping staircase so wide she could have run her car down it with room to spare. The wood’s newly polished surface simply screamed custom–built. More gas sconces lined the hallway, interspersed with discreet electric lighting. Workers stopped to watch their progress before continuing on like busy little bees. When they hit the second floor, they wound their way to the main poker room, which was filled with acres of green tables.

  An itch developed between her shoulder blades. Her father’s face flashed through her mind. She closed it down.

  They walked to a closed door at the back, and her helper discreetly knocked. She pushed his hand aside and flung it open.

  Like the rest of the hotel, Maven’s office was decorated with burnished wood and lush upholstery in burgundy and gold. Bold artwork more suited to the modern school accented the walls in engraved frames. What had she expected, Dogs Playing Poker? He might not be from money, but you’d never know it from looking at him in this mega–posh office, wearing a tailored suit that cost as much as her monthly mortgage.

  She marched forward. He just steepled his hands and settled back in an embossed leather chair resembling a throne. Fitting for a poker king, she decided as she stopped inches from his desk, ignoring the balding man in the chair next to her, his jaw hanging slack.

  “Why, Deputy McBride, what brings you to our humble abode? Did you decide you wanted an advance tour after receiving my invitation? Or didn’t you like the pie?”

  His smooth–as–cream tone couldn’t quite mask the underlying venom.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know why I’m here. You are so under arrest.”

  Those hot–as–sin lips curved into a smile. “Am I?”

  “Mac, what’s the meaning of this?” the bald guy blustered. “Lady, you’ve got the wrong man.”

  “I don’t think so.” She smirked at Maven. “Trust you to have an alibi ready, but I got your plates, which register that silver Ferrari to you. You’re so busted.”

  A line appeared between his eyebrows. “This is about my car? Did some parking ticket fly off my windshield?”

  The dig made her stomach jump. “Are you saying you didn’t park near that fire hydrant the other day?”

  His hand reached out and caressed a Waterford paperweight. “I wasn’t even close.”

  “Colorado law states you must not be within fifteen feet of a fire hydrant.”

  The paperweight dotted the ceiling with prisms when it caught the light streaming in through the windows. There was, she noticed, a killer view of the mountains.

  “I was well beyond the limit, and you know it. Just like your harassment today, it was another attempt to show your contempt for my hotel and cause me problems. Right before the grand opening, I might add.”

  His accusation rocked her back on her heels. “Are you denying I just chased your speed–racing ass from downtown up to this…this…Shangri–La?”

  He rose from his chair in one sleek line and waved a hand at the huffing bald man. “While I’m impressed with your literary knowledge, yes, I’m denying it. I thought better of you, Peg, but then again, it’s not the first time you’ve made something up about me.”

  The barb stung like a bee bite. “Did you or did you not beat a man so badly he was hospitalized for days?”

  “Dammit, we covered this!” he stormed, surprising her. He usually exhibited an almost eerie control of his emotions. She respected it, since her job required the same. Popping the cork on his volatility had created a few cracks in her own dam. Her heartbeat—already jazzed from the chase—kicked up again.

  “I was defending my sister’s honor, and the charges were dropped. Not that you care about the details. Only the laws matters.” His elegant hands settled on his trim waist. “Well, you’ve gone too far this time. I don’t want any bad blood between us, Deputy, but you’re pushing my tolerance. If you leave now, I won’t report this to your supervisor.”

  She sucked in a breath. “How dare you threaten me with a swipe at my professional conduct! I have you cold, mister, for speeding well above the limit and evading law enforcement. You’d better zip it, or I’ll throw in harassment for good measure and haul you downtown. Wouldn’t that be a nice way to open your hotel?”

  “This is outrageous!” the bald guy blasted out, rising to his feet. “Mac, I’m calling security and having Aaron and his guys escort her out.”

  “No.” He lifted his hand like a traffic cop directing cars. “That won’t be necessary.”

  His stoplight green eyes held hers for a long moment. In the silence, she raised her chin, fighting her roiling emotions. Part of her wanted to lash out at him. The other part—quieter, yes, but still there—couldn’t believe she’d misjudged him so badly. He was just another truth–allergic jerk who’d say anything to sidestep trouble.

  “You seriously believe you chased me up the mountain, don’t you?”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you!”

  He walked over to a wooden panel and pressed the corner. It slid open, exposing a wall of TV monitors showing the hotel from different vantage points. The white date and timestamp flashed at the top right corner of each screen. He stepped in front of the TVs monitoring three different views of the garage. Each one showed a different parking level.

  “My car seems to be badly parked,” he said, stroking the dent in his chin. He reached for a remote resembling something NASA might use for the space program and pressed a few buttons. The tap
e rewound. He paused it when a male form appeared. After slamming the Ferrari’s door, the perp—in jeans, tennis shoes, a white T–shirt, and a Yankees ball cap—streaked to the exit door. He had the gangly body of a teenager.

  Her head swung to the right. “It wasn’t you,” she uttered in sheer shock.

  Maven looked ready to spit fire. “That little shit,” he growled in a voice resplendent with danger.

  “Oh, Jesus,” the bald man moaned.

  “I take it you know who that is. Your new parking attendant?”

  It probably wasn’t the first time some kid took out one of Mac’s cars for the thrill. No wonder he’d run from her like a jackrabbit.

  Maven reset the monitor and shut the panels. “I don’t suppose you’d let me take care of this.”

  She could huff as good as the bald man. “Are you kidding? I called it in per procedure. Besides, half of Dare must have seen our car chase.”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets, jingling change. “I’ll punish him more than you ever could, I promise.”

  Man, she almost felt sorry for the kid. “Don’t ask me to let it slide. He broke the law. I’m sorry if you don’t like the bad press it will generate.”

  “Right. Breaking the law. How could I forget what an unpardonable offense that is?” Maven’s sigh was long and gusty. He pinched the bridge of his nose before reaching for the phone. “Dustin? You’d better come to my office. Now.”

  Peg stood with her legs hip distance apart and stared down at the bald man, who was frowning and tsking under his breath like a mother hen.

  “It’s not a request. Two minutes.” He hung up the phone and exchanged a long look with his colleague. “While we’re waiting, Peg, I want you to meet the hotel’s manager, Cincinnati Kilkelly. Cince, meet Dare’s deputy sheriff, Peggy McBride.”

  His hand moved hesitantly toward hers like she had the plague or something. The handshake couldn’t have been more perfunctory.

  Maven undid his jacket and loosened his tie. “Can I offer you a non–alcoholic beverage, Peggy? I realize you’re on duty.”

  She glanced at his crystal clock. “What? Are you planning on drinking? It’s not even noon.”

  “At the moment, it’s very tempting.”

  Before she could ask why, the door burst open. She recognized the perp even without the ball cap.

  “Deputy, I don’t believe you’ve officially met my nephew, Dustin, newly arrived from Arizona.” Maven clamped a hand on the kid’s shoulder. The boy looked wild–eyed enough to bolt. “Dustin, please meet Deputy McBride. She wants to haul you off to jail on numerous counts.”

  The black hair, dimpled chin, and green eyes in the kid’s young, thin face dotted with mild acne bore a striking resemblance to Maven. Do–do–do–do–do–do–do–do from The Twilight Zone streaked through Peggy’s head.

  “He’s your nephew? ”

  “Yes,” Maven replied. “Now, let’s talk about your wish to arrest him.”

  The kid pivoted and ran for the door.

  Chapter 6

  Maven sprinted across the room and collared him like an experienced cop. “Not so fast. So you went joy–riding in my car without asking, did you? Dammit, Dustin, we talked about this!”

  “Uncle Mac—”

  “We have a recording of the whole thing.”

  The kid’s eyes bugged. Then his head lowered, his shoulders hunched. Peg knew the stance. This was no usual trouble maker.

  “We’ve got you—what is the phrase? Dead to rights?”

  Peggy nodded and put her hands on her waist for emphasis, fingering her decked–out police belt. “Yes. I have your car clocked, the plates, the whole shebang. Are you even old enough to drive?”

  His chin thrust up. “Hell, yes, I just got my license.”

  “Hey,” Mac snapped. “Watch the language.”

  The kid’s jaw clenched. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  She hated being called ma’am, but she wasn’t about to give the kid an inch. “So, let’s see it.”

  He fished into his jeans for his wallet and dug out the license. His picture couldn’t have been more at odds with his current expression. His dopey grin was the size of Texas, and his eyes sparkled with joy at the new freedom. Man, had she ever looked that excited at the DMV? She considered that place another level of hell. His license was so bright, spanking new it practically shone. The great state of Arizona had issued it just last month.

  “Did you flunk the questions on the driving test about speed limits?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Fall on your head recently and plumb forgot them?”

  His lips twitched, but he kept his head down and muttered, “No, ma’am.”

  She slapped his license against her fingernail, letting the tapping fill the silence she had intentionally built. He shifted on his feet. Good, no power struggle here. She hated dealing with punk–ass teens who were too stupid or fearless to realize they’d done anything wrong. This kid could learn his lesson, she could tell. So, she’d put the fear of God into him.

  “Then you intentionally wish to do harm to yourself, me, and others?”

  His eyes flicked up. The first threads of fear shone before he lowered them. “No ma’am.”

  “So what am I supposed to think about the crap you pulled, racing down Main Street at forty–eight miles per hour and then cresting up to one–twenty on the highway?”

  Maven’s jaw clenched.

  Dustin cleared his throat. “Uh…”

  Her radio crackled, so she turned it down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. So you didn’t see the mom with the baby carriage coming across the crosswalk when you blew by?”

  “Oh my God, no!” he breathed out, turning green.

  Maven’s eyes shot to hers. Then his brow eased. So, he knew she was lying about the mom and baby. Good for him. Police did it all the time. Plus, it could have happened. He inclined his head as if giving her permission to go hard on his nephew. Like that meant a hill of beans to her.

  “Do you know how many families we have strolling down Main Street usually, even more so with the 4th of July coming up next week? What would have happened if someone hadn’t been looking? If you’d hit someone?”

  The kid grabbed his shirt. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I just wanted to drive fast. My uncle’s car—”

  “Isn’t a toy. It’s a hot car, I’ll grant you, but it can kill a pedestrian as easily as any other vehicle.”

  “I would never—”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t mean to. No one means to, but people are sent to the hospital or the morgue every day after being hit by crazy–ass speeding drivers like you. Want the statistics?”

  His Adams apple moved starkly when he gulped. She rattled them off, still tapping his license against her thumb. “And let’s talk about your speed in the canyon and what might have happened there.”

  As she launched into a litany about the dangers of speeding in a windy canyon on a two–lane highway, Maven crossed his arms, simply watching her. She tried to ignore him, but she couldn’t help glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

  “Dustin Michael Maven, age sixteen, this is a serious offense. This isn’t just plain ol’ speeding. Do you remember the part in the manual where it says you’re supposed to pull your car over when an officer hits her sirens?”

  He nodded his head slowly. She could tell he was envisioning the worst–case scenarios now. She’d instilled some serious regret in him. Good, her job was almost done.

  “That’s eluding an officer—a class one misdemeanor. You could get fined up to one thousand dollars plus court costs with possible jail time.”

  “How much are we talking here, Deputy?” that Cincinnati guy finally asked, joining the group.

  The kid leaned against him when he put an arm around him like an uncle. Clearly there was affection and history there. The kid was looking at him like a petrified puppy that was about to be sent to the pound.

  “A few
weeks to one year.”

  The kid started shaking, but she wouldn’t let up. Not yet. “When you display that kind of reckless indifference to the safety of others, it seems like a rather fitting punishment to me.”

  Cincinnati’s face turned ruddy. “Mac, aren’t you going to say anything? The kid just got his license. Who doesn’t hit the road speeding? I get that he did it in town, where there are tons of people around, but this seems pretty rough. It’s the kid’s first offense.”

  She tapped the plastic card and let the silence build again. “Which comes only a few weeks after receiving his license. The court takes this stuff into account.”

  “Dustin’s a good kid, Deputy. I think there’s a misunderstanding here.”

  Maven pursed his lips. “I imagine some sort of community service would work if he receives probation, right?”

  Since it was likely, she nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s true. Of course, he’d probably have to take the bus. The court might revoke his license. And since he ran from the car, I could add resisting arrest…”

  Dustin tried to bolt again, but the older man grabbed him. “It’s going to be okay, Dustin. Mac, we need to call the lawyers.”

  “No, Deputy McBride is right. This is serious. There’s also the matter of you stealing my car and trying to get me to take the fall for this. How do you think that would look if it became public knowledge? What the hell were you thinking?”

  She didn’t know what surprised her more, the lash of his temper or the fact that he was siding with her.

  Cincinnati clapped the kid on the back. “Come on, Mac, he wasn’t thinking. He’s sixteen with a shiny, new license and an uncle who’s got a hot car. Tell me you wouldn’t have done what he did. Hell, I know I would have.”

  The kid’s eyes widened as he looked at the bald man, clearly pinning all his hopes and dreams on his champion. “I’m sorry I took your car, Uncle Mac. I never would have let you get into trouble.”