by Renee George
“Distant cousin,” Dad said. “Anyhow, when you interview the Messers, I’d like you to take Farraday with you. I think they won’t be so nervous to give witness statements to people they know and trust. Agent Tartan agrees with me.”
“Oh, you and Tartan agreed, huh? I love how I was included in the decision-making process. I’m not a lackey, you know.”
“No, but you are his subordinate.”
“In what world?” I asked.
“In the FBI, or am I missing something? Agent Tartan is a senior officer, isn’t he?”
“He...I...”
Dad smiled as I fumbled with a defense. “So if you had been included, what would you have wanted to do?”
I slouched down in my chair feeling as grouchy as I must have looked. “I would have suggested that I interview the Messers without Tartan so they would be relaxed and be more willing to open up about their customers.
Dad nodded. “That’s a good instinct, girl. I say you run with it.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Gee, thanks, Sheriff. I’ll do just that.” I stood up and grabbed my purse. I walked over to my dad and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you at home, old man.”
“Hey, now. Watch the old talk.”
I smiled as I walked out of his office. I pointed my index finger at Eldin who had been pretending to do work. “You coming or what?”
Chapter Four
My mother, for all her pride, had never been a perfect housekeeper. There was usually flour dusting the baking cabinet, the occasional spider web at a corner in the ceiling, and my dad’s rolled up dirty socks by his easy chair. Still, she keeps a tidy house, and it always smells of strawberries—my dad’s favorite scent.
Mom’s car, a white luxury four-door, was parked in the driveway. Even from Eldin’s cruiser, I could hear Aerosmith blaring from the house.
“Your mom is baking,” he said, the smile on his face wistful. He’d spent a lot of time at my house when we were teenagers, so he knew Mom’s habits as well as anyone.
I smiled. “I love it when she plays Aerosmith.”
Eldin laughed. “Remember when she had us help her make that holiday bread for every person at the Silver Fox Senior Center? Four straight days of Walk This Way.” His eyes went distant at the memory. “That is maybe my favorite memory of all time.”
I smacked his arm. “Don’t get all sentimental on me.”
He met my gaze. “Would I do that?” He leaned over the kissed my cheek. “Can I take you to dinner tonight? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
My throat tightened. Eldin and I had been sweethearts in high school. He’d been my first real love, but we’d agreed to see other people when I’d gone off to college. He was still so cute, but my feelings for him had changed from romantic to platonic over the years.
I touched his cheek, trying to hide my apprehension, and if I was honest, sadness. “Eldin...”
He put his hand over mine. “Don’t worry, Nic. I’m not going to declare my intentions for you.”
The tension in me eased, but the sadness remained. “Okay. I’ll have to coordinate with Agent Tartan, but I’ll figure it out. You want to meet at the Blonde Bear Café? We can kill two birds with one stone.”
“If you really think I’m a bird that needs stoned.”
I smacked him again. “I’ll see you tonight.”
THE HOUSE I GREW UP in was a two-story log house on forty acres of property replete with a small barn and full of country charm. The newer double pane storm windows my parents had put in two summers ago rattled as Steven Tyler commanded his audience, “to shut up and dance.”
I walked in, because knocking would have kept me on the porch, and besides, no matter how long I’d been away, this old house in the woods would always be my home.
The entryway featured hardwood floors. My father hand-sanded and laid the planks of dark walnut. I squatted and dragged my fingertips across the buttery surface. Each board in the floor had been a love letter to my mom. I stood up, feeling the beat of the music as I danced through the living room and took a left into the kitchen. Mom’s usually neat hair, black but laced with silvery threads, was tied loosely back and long strands clung to her sweaty face as she punched and kneaded a basketball-sized round of dough.
She tilted her head back, flour dotting her cheeks, and tried to blow an unruly wisp of hair that had floated into her face. Her eyes locked on me for a moment before she let the dough go, threw her hands up in the air, and exclaimed, “Pixie, music off!” The room went silent.
“Nic! You’re home.” She came around the center island quicker than I could react and threw her arms around me.
“Mom,” I whined. “You’re getting me covered in flour.”
She let go and observed the white powder now dusting my black jacket and slacks. She wrinkled her nose as her gaze studied me from head to toe. “That’s what the washing is for.” And on that note, she embraced me again. Since I knew there was no fighting it, I hugged her back.
“What are you making?” I asked, keeping my fingers crossed for cinnamon rolls.
“I’ve got the butter warming and the cinnamon and sugar out, so what do you think?”
I danced up on my tip-toes. “Yum.” I looked at the blue square box on her counter by the toaster and nodded. “I’m so glad you use the Pixie.”
“Well, you see,” she said, putting her arm around my shoulders. “My very smart daughter gave it to me as a Christmas present.”
“So you like it?”
“Oh my gosh, yes. Watch this.” She faced the box. “Pixie, how many teaspoons are in a cup?”
The light on the top of the box blinked then it said, “One cup equals forty-eight teaspoons.”
My mother grinned. “That contraption has made cutting recipes down so easy, plus it can do multiple timers, tell me the weather, and play my favorite music. I don’t know how I managed without it.” She squeezed me again before taking up her station in front of the dough ball.
It made me happy that mom loved my gift. It’s like buying someone a sweater then catching them wearing it. “It’s really good to be home.”
“I’m so glad to see you,” Mom said as she continued her kneading. “Your dad’s missed you.”
“So much he had to arrange for me to come home,” I muttered.
Mom’s expression flattened. “This business with Blondina’s card ending up at a crime scene is attracting a lot of unwanted attention on the town, young lady. You know as well as I do that we can’t have just anyone traipsing in and out of Peculiar. You should be flattered that your father arranged for it to be you.”
Her sharp tone made me feel sixteen again. “It’s hard to feel flattered when I’m feeling managed,” I retorted. “I’m not a kid anymore. You and dad need to recognize that I can make my own decisions about my life.”
Mom punched down the dough hard enough that her knuckles rapped the butcher block underneath. She winced as she looked at her hand. The middle knuckle was bleeding. She picked up the entire wad of dough and threw it in the trash. “I have to start over now,” she said as she washed her hands in the sink. “You take your bag up to your room and get settled. We’ll talk later.”
A sourness settled in my stomach at her dismissal, but I’d learned long ago, that there was no talking to Jean Taylor when she was angry.
“Fine,” I said, grabbing my small case. I practically ran up the stairs to my room and slammed the door behind me. Gah! The second I was alone in my room, I hated myself. Why did I always devolve into a petulant child around my parents? I could cite several psychological theories on the matter, but the truth was, my parents were supportive, loving, and they encouraged me to go live my life independently of them. I had no good reason for feeling, for lack of a better phrase, “picked on.”
My phone rang, thank heavens, and took me out of the stew I’d been boiling in. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyhow. “Hello.”
“Nico
le?”
I recognized the voice. “Agent Tartan.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at my parent’s house.”
“Oh. Were you able to book me a room at the motel?”
“No,” I told him. “You’ve been booked into the Taylor Home for Wayward FBI Agents. We have a guest bedroom downstairs, and Mom insists on putting us up while we’re in town.”
“Hmmm. I’d rather we stay at the local hotel to prevent distractions.”
While I’d been irritated at my mom a few minutes earlier, I managed to shift that feeling to Dominic. “I’m staying at my parents’ place. You can go un-distract yourself where ever you like.”
“No, no,” he said, his tone placating. “I just thought...well, it doesn’t matter. Text me the address, and I’ll be on my way in an hour or so...”
I hung up without saying goodbye and grudgingly texted him. Next, I added his number to my contacts under the name “Agent Pain in My Ass.”
My phone rang as I stared at my handiwork. I fumbled to answer. “Hello. Er, I mean, Agent Taylor here.”
“Agent Taylor,” Eldin said on the other side. “How about lunch?”
My stomach gurgled in response. “I could eat.”
Chapter Five
The Blonde Bear Café smelled of grilled burgers, French fries, and today’s special, hearty chicken noodle soup. In other words, yummy. My stomach growled.
“Someone’s hungry,” Eldin said as we scanned the busy restaurant.
“You should have been a detective, deputy.” I patted my belly. “You missed your calling.”
“How about we maybe poke around while we’re here?”
“You’re twisting my arm.”
A tall, broad woman with platinum blonde hair done up in a beehive and leathery tan skin came out of the back. Her smile split her face when she saw me. “Nicole, as I live and breathe, sugar. It’s so good to see you home. You and Eldin grab yourself an empty table.” She glanced around at the full house. “If you can find a spot.”
“Over here!”
I turned to the voice and saw Sunny Trimmel and her sister-in-law Chavvah. Sunny was pointing to the two empty seats at their table. They were both newcomers to Peculiar, but my folks liked them, and even more of an endorsement, my dad trusted them. Still, there was something about the Mayor’s wife that made me uncomfortable. I waved. “That’s okay. We’ll wait for a table to open up.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sunny declared. “You’ll be waiting forever. Get on over here.” She stood up, and I worried she planned to drag me over if I didn’t comply.”
Eldin leaned to my ear. “I’ve found that arguing with Sunny is a losing proposition.”
I clenched my jaw, forced a smile, and said, “Fine,” through gritted teeth.
Sunny moved over a chair so that she was across from Chavvah. That put Eldin and me across from each other. “Hey, Ladies. Enjoying your afternoon?”
Chavvah nodded. “Sure are.”
Our waitress, Blondina’s daughter Selena, placed menus down on the table. “How you all doing today?” Her ruffled apron looked like she’d stuffed it with a basketball.
“Good,” we all answered in some variation of the polite response.
“Great.” She pulled out a pad with paper and said. “Let me get your drink order going while I give you a chance to check out the menu.”
“I’ll have some sweet tea,” Sunny said. Chav ordered unsweetened ice tea, Eldin a Dr. Pepper, and I ordered a coffee and ice water.
“It’s been a long day,” I explained.
When Selena left to fill our drink order, Chavvah asked, “How’s the investigation going?”
My mouth dropped open. I closed it. I looked at the two ladies.
“My husband is the mayor. There’s not much I don’t know,” Sunny explained.
Chavvah shrugged. “And her husband is my brother, so....”
“Besides, even if Babe wasn’t her bro, I tell Chav everything.” Sunny smiled.
“I’m not allowed to talk about an ongoing investigation, ladies. Sorry.”
Sunny leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay. But can you tell us when we can expect the scrumptious Dominic Tartan to arrive? I really thought you all would come to town together.”
A flush of warmth filled my cheeks. I avoided eye contact with Eldin. “Agent Tartan is on the way here. We are splitting up duties to gather as much information as we can.”
Sunny leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “I know a certain doctor who isn’t happy that the babe-alicous bear is making his way back here.” Sunny wiggled her eyebrows in Chavvah’s direction.
The brunette woman rolled her eyes. “You’re dumb.”
“Those dreamy green eyes, those soft brown curls.” Sunny faked a swoon. “That fine, fine ass.”
“You got more?” Chavvah said, not rising to the bait.
“I’d love to hear more,” I interrupted. “What was it in particular that you liked about Agent Tartan’s ass?” I thought if I pushed her, she’d get embarrassed and back off.
I was wrong.
“Why, Nicole, I’m so glad you asked.” Sunny leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. “His bootie has the shape of two ripe cantaloupes attached to two thick tree trunks. I bet I could skip rocks on those rounded muscles.” She shaped her fingers like grabby claws. “They just make a girl want to reach out and—”
“Got it,” I said, leaning way back.
“I could go on,” Sunny replied.
“And she will,” Chav added.
“I’m sure you could.” But I hoped she wouldn’t.
Eldin started laughing. Even the stoic Chavvah cracked a smile.
Sunny giggled. “You’re so easy, girl. This started as a way to tease my friend here, but you’ve made it too easy for me to redirect.”
“That’s me. Easy.”
“Not that I recall,” Eldin said.
“Ooooo,” Sunny crooned. “Now this is getting more and more interesting as the conversation unfolds.” She turned to Eldin. “What exactly do you recall about Nicole?”
I groaned. “Eldin hit his head when he was in high school.” I glared a warning at him. “A lot. He has some memory loss.”
He nodded. “Sudden onset.”
Selena came back with our drinks balanced precariously on a round tray. She expertly set them down on the table.
I greedily picked up the coffee she’d set in front of me. I took a sip, and it was hot, hot. I put a cube of ice from my water in it. “Hey, Selena. I heard your brother is back in town.”
The waitress bobbed her pretty head. “He sure is. I’m happy he’s home, especially now that I’m pregnant again. He’s a great uncle. Oof,” she said. Her free hand rested on her stomach. “That was a hard kick.”
Sunny absently put her hand on her own stomach. “I remember how hard those babies kick. You should take it easy.”
Selena smiled. “Doc says I’m fine to work. I’m healthy as a bear.”
“How far along are you?” I asked.
The waitress perked up at the chance to talk about her pregnancy. “Three months. Only two left. I can’t believe how fast it’s going. Michael is more anxious than I am.”
Eldin nodded. “I can attest to that. It’s always baby this and baby that at work.”
Selena was married to Michael Connelly, one of my father’s deputies. The pairing had surprised the hell out of me when my mother had called with the news. I’m not sure it was unprecedented, but I’d never heard of a squirrel and a bear therian mating before. The result would be interesting.
“Congratulations,” I said. “Is this your first?”
“Second,” Selena said. “Sunny predicted six kids for Michael and me.”
I glanced over at Sunny who looked pleased. “She did, did she?”
Selena nodded. “She’s never wrong.”
Chavvah coughed. “Yeah, right.”
“Al
l right,” Sunny said to her friend. “I’m wrong plenty. Just ask my husband.” Her expression soured. “Actually, don’t ask him.”
“Well, you’ve never been wrong about me. You told me my ex was a cheating jerk, and you were right, and you told me I’d find love with Michael, and I did, and we are already well on our way to a house full of kids,” she said with some indignation. She jerked her thumb at her chest to emphasize her next sentence. “If anyone says that you aren’t anything but awesome, you send them my way.”
“You hear that, Chav.” Sunny beamed. “I’m awesome.”
“I’ve known that for a long time,” she said. “But I worry that if your head gets any bigger, it won’t fit through the neck holes in your shirts.”
Sunny grinned, her bright green eyes sparkled. “I know how to use a pair of scissors.”
Selena chuckled. “Are y’all ready to order?”
“I’ll take the open-faced roast beef sandwich piled high with mash potatoes and extra brown gravy,” a man behind me said. I whipped my head around hard enough to wrench my neck. Dominic Tartan stood a few feet away. He raised his brow at my unasked question. “I finished up early in Springfield. Thought I would join you for lunch.”
I’d texted him about my plans, but I didn’t think he’d track me down.
He turned his gaze to the table, and his expression brightened immensely when he saw Chavvah. “Well, hello, Chav. Is it still Trimmel, or has the good doctor nailed you down yet?”
“He nails me every chance he gets,” she said as if she was commenting on the weather. The slight uptick of the corner of her mouth and the way she reached up to move a lock of hair from her shoulder told me she didn’t mind the flirting, but I’d seen her with Doctor Smith, and if Tartan thought he had a chance in hell with the tall, leggy brunette, he was sorely mistaken.
“So not married.” Dominic smiled.
“We’ve set a date,” she said.
“March twentieth,” Sunny said. “The Spring equinox or some such nonsense. Werewolves are a pain in the ass.”