Cut and Died

by Jeff Shelby

  “Sure,” I said. It actually did sound fun. Different, at least.

  I pulled up to the stop sign right outside Latney and waited for a UPS truck to accelerate through the intersection. “And are you seeing anyone?”

  I thought about the number on the mile marker and instantly regretted my question. I hoped he wouldn’t launch into too much detail.

  “No,” he said quickly.

  “No?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Not seeing anyone.”

  This didn’t sound like the Mack I knew, but I didn’t know if I wanted to push the issue. Mack had always been a ladies man of sorts—more than half of his clients were female, and there had been more than one occasion over the years where cases had turned into relationships. Most of them had been casual affairs, at least from what I’d witnessed, but he always seemed to have someone he was taking out to dinner or to parties.

  “So, this is Latney,” Mack said, staring out the window as we drove into town.

  The main street was about four blocks long and housed most of the businesses: the bank, the hardware store, Toby’s, Sophia’s boutique, the Wicked Wich. There were offices, too, businesses I’d never been in—an accountant and a lawyer, a tax consultant and an insurance broker—and at the far end of the road, the newly repaired steeple of St. Simon’s was just visible.

  “It’s cute,” Mack commented. “Small, but cute.”

  Both were accurate observations. Latney was definitely small, and it was certainly charming. The holiday decorations had all come down so it looked a little drab to me, especially after being so lit up for Christmas, but its charms were still visible. The streetlights that were fashioned to look like old gaslamps, the brick façade of some of the buildings, the painted wooden shutters that framed the windows of some of the businesses; all of these things added just the right amount of ambience to Latney’s tiny downtown.

  I pulled to the curb right outside of the Wicked Wich. “You ready to eat?”

  A minute later, we were inside the restaurant, stamping our feet on the mat to dry them. I tugged at the scarf wrapped around my neck and unzipped my coat.

  And then I looked into the restaurant.

  A sea of faces—familiar faces—stared back at us.

  Every single person was looking in our direction.

  And all eyes were on Mack.

  TEN

  “Well, this is a little awkward,” Mack muttered under his breath.

  It was more than a little awkward.

  It was a lot awkward.

  I was pretty sure every single person I knew in Latney was sitting in the Wicked Wich. I glanced at the clock, frowning. It wasn’t even lunchtime. It was late afternoon, that time of day where it was too late to eat lunch but way too early to contemplate dinner.

  Apparently, no one had gotten that particular memo. Dawn Putnam was there, of course; she owned the place, and I couldn’t remember many times that I’d come in when she hadn’t been positioned behind the bar, pouring drinks or ringing up tabs. Mikey was stationed at the grill, his back to me as he expertly flipped burgers. The smell of grease and fried onions permeated the air.

  Martin, Dawn’s husband, a short-haul truck driver and one of the nicest guys in town, was sitting at the bar, chatting with Len Konrath, the old man who’d owned my property before me.

  “Why is everyone staring at us?” Mack whispered.

  “Because they don’t know you,” I whispered back. “Just smile. I’ll introduce you.”

  We reached Sophia Rey and Vivian Sumner first. They had half-eaten salads in front of them, along with a pitcher of iced tea.

  “Rainy.” Sophia’s voice was as smooth as honey. “Who is your handsome friend?”

  “This is Mack,” I said. “Mack Mercy. My old boss in DC.”

  Sophia fixed him with a radiant smile and extended her hand. “Sophia. Sophia Rey.” She looked as fresh as a peach, her blonde hair twisted into an elaborate braid, and her make-up soft and subtle.

  Mack shook her hand, completely transfixed. “My pleasure,” he murmured.

  “Sophia is married to Walter, who runs the bank here in town.” I stared meaningfully at Mack, hoping he’d heard the word ‘married.’

  He nodded, and I hoped my words registered. “And this here is Vivian Sumner,” I said, my gaze moving to the beautiful auburn-haired woman sitting next to Sophia.

  Vivian shook hands with Mack. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, her voice a little more prim and proper than Sophia’s. “Are you just passing through town or...?”

  I spoke up quickly, anxious to dispel any gossip that might be forming in either woman’s head. “Mack’s car went off the road last night.”

  There was a collective, delicate gasp from both of them and Sophia’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my goodness. Are you alright?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Mack said with a grin.

  “Through sheer luck, he managed to find my house,” I said. “We’re actually here in town to see if we can’t find his car. Looks like someone might have had it towed. And grab a bite to eat, of course.”

  “You poor thing,” Sophia gushed, her eyes wide. “Getting stranded out on the road like that, and in a snowstorm. You are lucky to be alive!”

  “That I am,” Mack agreed. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Any chance either of you ladies have seen a BMW M3 around town? Maybe parked in a lot or something?”

  Sophia and Vivian exchanged glances, and I wondered if they knew what kind of car he was talking about. Considering they were both fairly wealthy and drove nice cars of their own, my guess was they had a pretty good idea.

  “Can’t say that I have,” Vivian said.

  Sophia’s expression brightened. “Oh, but you have Rainy to help you!”

  I stiffened.

  “She solves all the mysteries here in town,” Sophia said. She picked up her glass of iced tea and took a dainty sip. “Murders, fires, kidnappings. You name it, she solves them.”

  Mack turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, she does now, does she?” he asked, his voice threaded with disbelief. I’d shared some of the stuff I’d experienced over the last several months, and even gotten advice from him, but I’d never told him all the details about the things that had transpired here.

  Sophia nodded. “We don’t even call the sheriff anymore when something’s amiss. We just call Rainy.” She giggled, and Vivian joined her.

  “Now, that’s not true,” I began, but Sophia cut me off.

  “Oh my goodness,” she said, her eyes traveling the length of the man standing next to me. “You really aren’t dressed for the weather, are you? Are those all the clothes you have right now?”

  Mack glanced down at his outfit. “My suitcase was in my trunk.”

  Sophia shook her head. “That is just tragic. I can’t imagine having only one outfit to my name.”

  Vivian nodded in agreement.

  I couldn’t believe our conversation had turned from discussing Mack’s missing car to the limitations of his wardrobe.

  “Look, it’s been really nice talking to you two, but we need to order some food,” I told them.

  I nudged Mack, hoping he would move away from their table.

  “A pleasure meeting you,” he said to them both. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.”

  I grabbed his elbow and steered him away from the table before they could keep talking.

  “Are all the women in this town that attractive?” he whispered as we slid into a booth at the back of the restaurant.

  Dawn appeared just then, a notepad and pen already in her hands. With her short, strawberry blonde hair and severe features, she wasn’t classically beautiful, but she was definitely striking.

  Mack immediately took notice. “And who are you?” he asked.

  “The person who is here to take your order.” Her voice was like steel.

  He glanced at her nametag. “Dawn. That’s a nice name.”

 
“I’m not here to make small talk,” she said in a clipped tone. “I have a restaurant full of people to take care of. So you can either sit here and starve or you can tell me what you want to eat.”

  Mack blinked and I held my hand to my mouth, trying to smother my laugh.

  “Uh, I guess I’ll eat,” Mack said.

  Dawn nodded. “Wise choice. What’ll it be?”

  “A burger.”

  “Any particular kind? Mikey has a special right now—mac and cheese topped bacon burger.”

  My stomach growled. “I’ll have that.”

  “Me, too,” Mack added.

  Dawn looked at me. “Diet Coke for you?”

  I nodded.

  She looked at Mack, her eyes glinting like diamonds.

  “Same,” he said, his voice meek.

  She whirled around and headed back to the bar.

  “Who in the world was that?” Mack whispered.

  “Dawn Putnam,” I said. “The owner of this place.”

  “Is she always that...abrupt?”

  I chuckled, remembering the numerous run-ins I’d had with Dawn since moving to Latney.

  “Her bark is worse than her bite,” I said. And then, thinking about the time she’d almost run me over with her car, I added, “Usually.”

  Dawn came back with our drinks, plunking them down on the table without a word, tossing two wrapped paper straws alongside of them.

  I slid Mack his drink before taking a sip of my own.

  “Rainy.”

  I looked up in surprise, startled by the voice saying my name.

  Because it wasn’t Mack’s.

  Declan Murphy was staring back at me.

  Of course he was at the Wicked Wich. Everyone was. I swallowed hard and tried to paste a smile on my face.

  “Declan,” I said in greeting. I took another sip of my soda. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  He held up a brown paper bag. “I’m picking up a to go order. Have a conference call with the diocese that I can’t miss.” His gaze flickered to Mack. “You must be a friend of Rainy’s.”

  Mack nodded and stuck out his hand. “Mack Mercy. We worked together in DC.”

  Recognition flashed in Declan’s eyes when Mack introduced himself. “Ah, yes, Rainy has mentioned you several times.”

  “Any of those mentions good?” Mack quipped.

  Declan smiled. “All of them,” he assured him. His brow puckered. “Are you in town for a visit?”

  Mack explained what had happened with his car and Declan listened, offering sympathy and wishes for a speedy recovery of his car. With pleasantries dispensed, he turned his attention back to me.

  “I’d love to get together sometime soon and chat,” he said. His words were neutral in tone, but his blue eyes blazed with emotion.

  I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat. “Yeah, of course. I’d like that.”

  “Maybe we can get something on the calendar?” he suggested. “It doesn’t have to be anything special. A cup of coffee or something. It can even be at the church...” His voice trailed off.

  “Absolutely,” I said, nodding. “Things have just been busy with the holidays and everything, you know?”

  This was a lie, and we both knew it. Luke and Laura had left nearly three weeks ago, and I’d had nothing demanding my attention, nothing that needed to be done.

  I had been avoiding Declan, plain and simple.

  Not because I didn’t want to see him, but because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to him. We’d had a conversation right before Christmas, when he’d told me about the opportunity to go on a mission trip to Brazil. I was happy for him, of course, but I couldn’t hide the fact that I was disappointed, too. Declan had become more than a friend over the last several months; for one brief night, he’d been my lover.

  Before I’d even had time to process what that meant in the grand scheme of things, he’d announced he was thinking of leaving Latney, and I hadn’t known how to respond. He’d made noises about wanting me to come with him, and that had set off a cascade of emotions in me. Did I want adventure? Was Latney really where I was supposed to be? And it had caused me to question other things, too. How well did I really know Declan? Was I half in love with Declan, the man, or was I in love with the idea that Declan represented, someone who was safe and secure, someone who took care of me without being overbearing, someone who offered guidance and support but still let me be me.

  I didn’t know.

  And I’d been too chicken to find out.

  “I understand,” Declan said, bringing me back to the conversation. “Maybe when things get a little less busy, we can figure something out.”

  I pasted on a smile and nodded. “Of course.”

  He glanced at Mack. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I hope your car is recovered soon, and I hope you’ll let me know if there’s anything the parish can do for you while you’re here.”

  “Pray for me,” Mack said wryly. “And that I find my car.”

  Declan smiled. “That much is a given.” He offered a wave before heading toward the door.

  Mack took a long drink of his soda and fixed me with a piercing stare. “Alright, spill.”

  “Spill what?”

  “Oh, cut the crap, Rainy.” He chuckled. “Something’s going on between the two of you. Which is interesting, considering I’m also convinced there’s something between you and that neighbor of yours.”

  I squirmed in the booth, the vinyl seat squeaking underneath me. I didn’t want to tell Mack anything, but I knew what he was like as an interrogator: incessant. Unrelenting.

  “Mack Mercy?” A gruff voice came to the rescue, a voice I never in a million years thought I’d be happy to hear.

  Sheriff Lewis was approaching our booth, his thumbs hooked into his belt loops.

  Mack set down his drink.

  “Looks like we found your car.”

  ELEVEN

  Mack and I both beamed at Sheriff Lewis.

  Mack was grinning from ear to ear because the sheriff had uttered the words he’d been waiting to hear.

  And I was smiling because Sheriff Lewis’s announcement had brought an abrupt end to the questioning I’d just begun to endure.

  It was a win-win for both of us.

  “That’s great,” Mack said. His expression clouded. “Is she okay?”

  The sheriff’s brow furrowed into a frown. “She? Thought I was looking for a car, not a woman.”

  “No, no,” Mac said, shaking his head. “You are. Is the car okay?”

  Sheriff Lewis shrugged. “I guess.”

  “What do you mean?” Mack asked.

  “Looks drivable.”

  I could tell this wasn’t what Mack was asking. He wanted to know if his precious luxury car had been damaged in any way. Unfortunately, I didn’t think the man standing in front of us would be able to offer that kind of assessment.

  “Where did you find it?” Mack asked.

  “Just outside of town.” The sheriff unhitched a thumb from a belt loop and motioned toward the door. “Halfway between here and Winslow.”

  Mack nodded. “That’s great.” He genuinely did sound relieved.

  “Can take you out there, have you identify the vehicle,” the sheriff said.

  Dawn shouldered her way past the sheriff and set down two plates. Our burgers. She left without a word.

  “That’s awfully nice of you, Sheriff, but I think I’ll have Rainy drive me there.”

  I’d just plucked a French fry from my plate. “What?”

  Mack smiled. “Figured you could drive me over to my car and we could say goodbye there,” he explained. “No sense in me heading back this way after we get everything squared away with the car.”

  I had to admit, it made sense.

  I stared longingly at my burger. The patty was a thick slab of meat, browned to perfection, and two pieces of bacon extended out from the bun, still sizzling hot. Cheesy macaroni oozed out the sides, dripping d
own the patty and on to the plate. My mouth watered.

  “Can we eat first?” I asked hopefully.

  Mack glanced at the sheriff, who shook his head. “I’m on a bit of a schedule,” Sheriff Lewis said.

  I gave him a dubious look. It wasn’t as if Bueller County was hopping with activity.

  “Golf,” he explained.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  “We can get to-go boxes,” Mack suggested. “Eat them on the way.”

  “It will take us five minutes to get there.”

  “Power company is trimming branches along that stretch of road,” Sheriff Lewis said. “Have a lane closed down. Probably be more like ten minutes.”

  I was about to say something when a woman approached the table. She looked vaguely familiar but I didn’t know where I might have known her from, and I definitely didn’t know her name.

  “Sheriff?” she said timidly.

  “Margaret,” the sheriff said in greeting. “What can I do for you?”

  The woman’s smile was as timid as her voice. “Sorry to interrupt.” She rocked from one foot to the other, her hand clutching the purse strap hanging over her right shoulder. “But I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

  “A favor?” he echoed.

  She nodded, her brown hair falling in front of her eyes. She pushed the loose strands away. “I haven’t heard from Miranda in a couple of days and I was just wondering if I should be worried.”

  I took this opportunity to reach for another fry but Mack pulled my plate closer to him.

  “We’ll take these with us,” he whispered in a firm voice.

  I sighed.

  “Why are you sighing?” he asked with a frown. “You can eat it in the car.”

  “How?”

  “Uh...with your hands?”

  The sheriff’s voice rose and I refocused on the conversation he was having with the woman named Margaret.

  “You think she might be missing?” he asked, his voice laced with alarm.

  I glanced at Mack, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of interest and irritation. I knew the investigator in him was curious, but I also knew all he wanted to do was go get his car and get the heck out of Latney.