Count on a Cop 49 - Julianna Morris

by Honor Bound

  “Please, call me Ben. I’m happy to meet you in person, Mrs. Nolan, and not just through phone conversations. The festival is off to a fine start.”

  Mirabelle blushed. The compliment—offered in his sexy voice—would have made a hundred-year-old woman flutter in excitement, never mind an overworked, forty-something mother of three.

  “Thank you. And it’s Mirabelle.” She turned to Kelly. “We have a problem. One of the kite-flying judges called in sick with the flu. We need a replacement, preferably someone who won’t be accused of favoritism. You know what it was like last year.”

  “Yes.” Kelly gave Ben a significant glance. “Maybe our new police chief will volunteer.”

  Mirabelle beamed brighter. “That’s a perfect solution. We wouldn’t take too much of your time, Ben, I know you’re here with family.”

  He hesitated, then smiled. “I would be honored.”

  “Wonderful. Come to the high-school football field at two o’clock. Here’s a copy of the rules and categories.” She thrust a sheet of paper at him and hurried away, consulting her clipboard.

  Ben scanned the paper. “Have you gotten me into a hornet’s nest, Kelly? What happened last year?”

  “The runner-up accused one of the judges of being biased and of strong-arming the other two into agreeing with his choice for the grand prize.”

  “Was he biased?”

  “Hard to say…turned out his son-in-law was competing for a construction contract with the winner’s husband’s architectural firm. It didn’t look good.”

  A mix of emotions chased across Ben’s face. She could guess what he was thinking—that the whole situation was provincial and who cared who won a kite contest anyhow? He hadn’t said anything against small towns lately, but that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind.

  “Since I don’t have a son-in-law in the construction business, I’m probably safe.”

  “You’ll have fun,” Gina contributed. “Henry used to do it, but the accident put him out of commission for the last festival. They asked him this year, but he said someone else should take over now that he’s retired.”

  “That’s right. I’m concentrating on being a family man,” Henry announced as he distributed concessionaire’s food boxes. “Elephant Ears, all around. Don’t burn yourselves. They’re hot.”

  Toby giggled as he poked the oblong sheet of fry bread in his box, waiting for it to cool enough to eat, while Kelly gingerly tore off a chunk and dunked it in a container of blackberry syrup.

  She blissfully closed her eyes as the taste of hot bread and sweetly tangy blackberry hit her tongue.

  BEN GROANED SILENTLY as he watched Kelly eat. She licked a long drip of syrup from her finger, then dipped another piece of bread into the container. He’d seen women eat provocatively, aware of their actions and the intended effect on a man, but none of that could compete with her innocent pleasure.

  It was just a kiss. I’m over it.

  The memory of her retort, delivered with a degree of insouciance, annoyed him. He was a guy. He wasn’t supposed to be the one questioning the meaning of a kiss.

  “Careful,” Aunt Gina said, saving Toby from having his cup of syrup splash down the front of his shirt. “Yum, I like elfont ears.”

  She tucked the napkin under his chin more securely. “I hope you’ll have room for everything else.”

  “I will, Aunt Gina,” Toby promised solemnly.

  Ben smiled, grateful for the distraction.

  The festival was more of a street fair, with local artisans selling their wares in booths, and food vendors working out of rolling kitchens. The International Lions, Kiwanis and Rotary clubs were setting up barbecue stands, and the scent of chicken and beef teriyaki vied with grilled onions and sausages. Ben couldn’t remember ever seeing anything like it, yet it smacked of old-time rural America.

  Kelly already had a delicate butterfly painted on her cheek. Aunt Gina said she got one every year, which meant there had to be a story behind that butterfly.

  Ben wanted to know the story. A little too much.

  He didn’t know how Kelly fit into his life now, but she was part of it. And the woman she’d become was even more attractive than the teenager he’d once lusted after. She did it without half trying. Like today…with her smooth legs, topped by white cuffed shorts, sweet curves beneath a pink T-shirt and long, thick gold hair. It was enough to hike his pulse to an unhealthy rate.

  “All right, everyone,” Aunt Gina said when they’d thrown away their trash. “We need to walk and work up an appetite for what’s next.”

  “Blackberry ice cream,” Henry declared.

  “With pie,” Kelly added.

  “Nonsense. Your pie is better than what we can get here. Who votes we only eat things that Kelly doesn’t already cook for us?” His uncle held up his hand, promptly followed by Ben, Gina and Toby. “It’s settled.”

  “You’re impossible,” she scolded with a laugh.

  They wandered along, looking at jewelry and pottery and kites of every imaginable shape and size. Toby acquired a balloon from Gina, a wood duck toy from Kelly, a festival T-shirt from Henry and a sack of blackberry taffy that Ben couldn’t resist after watching the stuff being stretched and twisted on a taffy machine.

  “Your father called,” Henry murmured to Ben at one point. “He said they’ve left a few messages on your voice mail and haven’t heard back.”

  A muscle in Ben’s jaw twitched. “I’ve been busy.”

  “They want to come for a visit.”

  “I know. It was in their messages.”

  Aunt Gina and Kelly were ahead of them with Toby, and Ben focused on his son, clutching the wood duck to his chest, the balloon tied to his wrist. Toby was having a grand time, unlike the single afternoon he was supposed to spend with his grandparents—they’d left him with a maid while they went boating.

  Shades of Ben’s own childhood, when he’d been less important than cocktails with a stockbroker. He was closer to his parents’ housekeeper, chauffeur and handyman than he was to them.

  “Actually, the first message suggested we come visit them,” he said, an edge to his voice. “As if I could drop everything after a week at a new job to fly down at their convenience.”

  “At least they’re trying.”

  “We would’ve arrived and found they’d gone to Bermuda for the month.” Ben stopped at a booth where workers were making cotton candy. “We don’t have any common ground. I’m not interested in high finance and socially correct parties, and they’re not interested in anything else.”

  Henry put a hand on his arm. “You’re a grown man. It’s your decision.”

  Damned straight. It was one thing for Ben to make concessions to his parents, another to see the bewilderment in Toby’s face when his grandparents had trouble remembering his name. Hell, Ben had already burdened his son with a mother who didn’t want anyone to know he existed. Compounding the problem was not a good idea.

  “How about teriyaki for lunch,” he suggested to change the subject.

  “I’ll ask the ladies.” Henry ambled away.

  The cell phone Ben wore on his belt rang and he pulled it out. “Santoni speaking.”

  “It’s Jenson, Chief. Ready for a status report?”

  Ben stepped away from the steady flow of foot traffic. “Go ahead.”

  “Nothing dramatic. The fire department’s first aid station is getting the usual upset tummies, bee stings and skinned knees. Parking is tight, so we’re directing cars to the overflow lots. Oh, and a firecracker went off next to the mayor’s car when he was getting out after the parade.”

  “How is the mayor?” Ben asked.

  “Well, he dived headfirst into the car and used language I’ve never heard from him. Other than that, he’s fine.”

  Ben tried not to laugh, but he would have loved to see Phillip Stone’s desperate scramble. “Everyone’s human. You’d be nervous, too, if you’d gotten the number of death threats he’s received. Are y
ou running the extra patrols on the docks like I wanted?”

  “You bet,” Jenson assured. “All is quiet.”

  “Let me know immediately if they see anything unusual. Especially someone hanging about the, uh…” Ben paused, realizing he was in earshot of several festival goers. “The specific locations we discussed.”

  “Right. Where we found the bodies,” Jenson confirmed. “Gotcha, Chief. Do you really think the murderer would come back? If it was me, I’d want to get as far away as possible.”

  “It happens more than you’d think. Always take a good look at the spectators at a crime scene. One of them could be the guilty party.”

  “I hope we won’t have that many crime scenes to worry about.”

  “You and me both. I’ll check in later.”

  Ben returned the cell phone to his belt. Though he was having a good day, the phone was a reminder that he wasn’t entirely off duty. But then, he hadn’t ever felt “off duty” since becoming a cop.

  “Problems?” Henry asked, returning from his consultation with the others.

  “Nope. Does teriyaki appeal to everyone?”

  “Sure does.”

  The food was tasty and plentiful, and they finished it off with blackberry sundaes. Ben had gained a whole new appreciation for Sand Point by the time they entered the football field where the kite contest was being held.

  “Over here, Ben,” Mirabelle called.

  His fellow judges were the fire chief and the head of the hospital’s emergency services. Together they selected the winners in half a dozen different categories, along with the grand prize winner: a truly spectacular winged serpent. But in the middle of awarding the trophies and ribbons, Ben noticed Fred Bartlett closing in on Kelly in the bleachers, rather than covering the winners. She didn’t see him because she was gazing down at Toby, who’d fallen asleep with his head on her lap.

  Damnation. He’d asked the media to stop bothering Kelly about her novel. Most had cooperated, but Fred and Theodore Bartlett were more persistent than hungry mosquitoes.

  He stepped forward, and then saw Henry intercept the reporter. Within seconds Fred had changed directions with his cameraman and they were raptly watching Jimmy Tarp being awarded the second-place ribbon for the homemade children’s category, and Susan Marie Detweiler receiving the trophy for first.

  At the end of the ceremony, Mirabelle Nolan came on the loudspeaker and thanked everyone for their participation. “And a big vote of thanks to our new police chief for filling in on such short notice,” she added, much to Ben’s discomfort.

  Applause rippled through the group of spectators.

  Soon the crowd began to dissipate, drifting in the direction of the food stands and carnival rides, while the kite owners took advantage of the breeze to sail their creations into the air.

  So many people greeted him that it took Ben several minutes to reach Toby and the rest of the family. It was a surprise, and rather nice. He couldn’t imagine getting such a friendly welcome in Los Angeles.

  “Hey, pal,” he said, patting his son’s hair.

  Toby yawned and rubbed his eyes.

  “Looks as if it’s time to go home.”

  “No, Poppa. I tooked a nap for Miss Kelly so we could stay longer.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I did just what she said.”

  Sorry, Kelly mouthed. He glanced at her cheek, still intrigued by the mystery of that painted butterfly. It seemed unlike her—at least it seemed unlike the woman he was finally getting to know.

  “Um…okay, pal. What do you want to do now?”

  “Rides.” Toby pointed to the carnival and Ferris wheel in the distance. “I wanna go up real high.”

  Kelly tried to excuse herself from going with them, only to be met by a storm of protest.

  “But you should have time alone together as a—”

  “Don’t say it,” Gina warned sweetly.

  “Definitely not,” Henry growled, swinging Toby onto his shoulders. She subsided.

  “Don’t say what?” Ben whispered in Kelly’s ear as they approached the brightly colored midway.

  “That you should have time together as a family,” she whispered back.

  “Yeah, that would be a surefire way to annoy them.”

  “I wasn’t trying to annoy them, I was trying to be considerate.”

  “No, you’ve got this blasted independence thing going that drives them up a wall, but you’re their daughter in every way that counts. You just refuse to see it. That’s why Uncle Henry was so mad at me when we were caught necking at the point all those years ago. I used to wonder if it was because I’d embarrassed him, but that isn’t the sort of thing he cares about.”

  “It’s important to take care of yourself,” Kelly insisted.

  “I could hire a babysitter or put Toby in day care after school, but I sure as hell would rather have Aunt Gina do it. That doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself or my son.”

  She set her jaw. “You’ve never had your whole world ripped from under you, either. You’ve never lost every solid thing you counted on.”

  “I never had anyone I could count on in the first place,” Ben retorted.

  “You had your uncle and aunt.”

  Ben nearly tripped over the simple truth.

  Henry and Gina had paused while Toby gestured excitedly at the stuffed animals hanging from a stall. Strong and robust despite his shock of white hair, Henry carried Toby easily on his broad shoulders. And once his knee was repaired, he’d be as sound as ever.

  They’d always been there for Ben: calm, sure, unwavering presences. And they’d be there for his son. Henry and Gina were the kind of people who ought to have had a houseful of children to raise and love, but instead they’d had him and Kelly. They were de facto parents for anyone who needed them, but particularly for the two “children” they loved the most.

  “I don’t like those guys,” Kelly said in disgust.

  “Who?” Ben asked, startled.

  She pointed. “The carnies who run the midway booths. They’ll talk kids out of every penny in their pockets. Most of them don’t cheat outright, but they make it sound as if the prizes are practically guaranteed.”

  “I gather that happened to you?”

  “Once. That’s all it took.”

  Ben and Kelly joined the others at a mock shooting range with rows of moving targets. The game booth was blazoned with signs. Hit the Targets. Win big, Big, BIG. Prizes. Prizes. Prizes. The More You Play, the More You Win. Five Dollars Could Win the Grand Prize.

  The carnie took in Ben’s uniform and his badge with SPPD Police Chief engraved across the middle. He swallowed nervously. “Hello, Officer. Come to try your luck?”

  “Could be.”

  “Hit just three out of ten on the bottom row, and you’ll get a prize.” A tiny stuffed teddy bear with a key ring attached was laid on the railing. “But eight out of ten from the top row wins any prize you see. I’ll even give you a set of practice shots for free.”

  Ben took the practice shots offered. The “rifle” was hitting off center—up and to the right—easy to compensate for when you knew how.

  “How…about it, Officer?” asked the carnie. “Five dollars for ten tries, but we have a limit—a player can only win four of the big prizes.”

  “Just four, huh?” Over Kelly’s and Gina’s protests, Toby’s cheers and Henry’s amused grin, Ben laid down a twenty.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Ten of the narrow stick figures on the top row went down in sequence. The second set didn’t go as well—he hit only eight of the targets. Enough to win, but not up to his usual standard. He hit the third and fourth sets at nine and ten respectively.

  The carnie wet his lips. “Double or nothing?” he urged.

  “Nope. That would break your rules—four big prizes per player, remember? Toby, which one do you want?”

  Toby wavered between the lion and the monkey, so Ben said they’d take them both.


  “Kelly, Gina, what tickles your fancy?”

  Slightly pink, Kelly picked a goofy-eyed dragon, while Gina went for the giraffe. The carnie reluctantly handed the prizes over, his gaze on Ben’s badge. No doubt if it had been anyone else, he would have tried to wiggle out of paying off.

  “I’d fix your targeting,” Ben advised him before they left. “Someone more suspicious than me might think you’d rigged the game.”

  HOURS LATER KELLY WAS pleasantly tired as she slathered mustard on a corn dog and munched it down. She’d have to diet for a month to make up for her excesses, but it was worth every bite.

  The air had grown steadily cooler and they all wore festival sweatshirts for warmth. That was life on the Oregon coast. You got used to it, or you moved to Arizona.

  “One more ride on the Ferris wheel, and then we go home,” Ben declared. Toby nodded, blinking sleepily.

  The sun was down and the lights and bustle of the midway surrounded them. They’d made several trips to their assorted vehicles to unload purchases and prizes— Ben seemed especially determined to test the honesty of the carnies. His zeal may have come from a sense of responsibility as police chief to ensure that festival participants weren’t being cheated, but he also appeared to be enjoying himself.

  To Kelly’s amazement, he’d really gotten into judging the kite contest. She almost laughed at the memory of his intent expression, questioning each contestant and examining the kites in great detail. He’d also “dunked” the youthful fire chief, who’d cheerfully promised to return the favor the following year.

  Perhaps Ben was trying to adjust to life in Sand Point. Would she find it any easier if their situations were reversed? She didn’t like the city any more than he liked small towns, yet he was trying to make things work.

  Toby insisted “Miss Kelly” ride the Ferris wheel with them and he snuggled up to her as the attendant fastened the protective bar over their laps.

  Ben put his arm across the back of the seat.

  “Would you believe I’ve never been on a Ferris wheel before today?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve come to the conclusion I was seriously deprived as a child.” He traced a finger down Kelly’s neck. She pretended not to notice.