Cinnamon Girl

by S. J. MacIver

  She nodded and said, "It looks that way. They don't expect the jury to have the case until Thursday or Friday."

  "I probably won't see much of you then."

  She shook her head. "I'll be on roller-skates dropping by here first thing in the morning for the hot sheet, then running over to the courthouse for the trial."

  "In case we miss each other, don't forget about Sunday. I assume you got the photos you wanted?"

  Lacy blew out a sigh. "Yes, and a very nice interview with Mister Hankins. Thank you."

  "No thanks necessary. You promised to show up at church, and I'm holding you to it."

  "I know, and I'll be there." She smiled up at him, just a teensy bit ashamed of herself as she added in a whisper, "Do you suppose you could give me a hint who the suspects are you're looking for in this case?"

  Brian set his jaw, but he also took a surreptitious glance around the room. Speaking quietly, he said, "I don't want to see this in the newspaper, young lady, but word has it that the young Misses Hankins had a few admirers, one or two of whom had restraining orders taken out against them by the very same Misses Hankins."

  "You're looking for her ex-boyfriends?" This didn't make much sense. "But I don't get it. It's one thing for a guy to kill his former girlfriend in a jealous rage or something like that, but why on earth would he then remove her baby? That just doesn't compute."

  Brian placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. His expression equal parts sadness and speculation, he said, "It does if the ex-boyfriend has been 'visiting' his old girlfriend and also happens to think he might be the father of that baby."

  Chapter 7

  As Lacy had feared, the trial dragged on and didn't go to the jury until late Thursday afternoon. During those three days she ran herself ragged keeping up with her Crime Beat column, reporting on the trial, and checking in with Brian whenever possible to find out if there were any new leads in the Hankins case. There weren't. The only item of interest was the fact that deputies couldn't locate one of Candee's former boyfriends, a strong person of interest given the fact that he was one of two with restraining orders against them.

  Lacy was exhausted and in no mood for surprises when she stepped onto her front porch Friday morning and nearly stumbled into a huge mound of dog droppings. After she collected herself, got a shovel, and cleaned up the mess, she worked on figuring out who might have done such a thing.

  Clearly this was no accident nor was it the leavings of some giant hound that'd made its way to her porch. The mess had been left by design. Since she had no enemies that she knew of, Lacy figured it must be some kind of practical joke. But who would do such a thing? Her fellow reporters and even cops and deputies were known for their jokes and occasionally diabolical senses of humor, but even they wouldn't stoop this low. It was with a sense of sadness and confusion that Lacy went to work that morning, a feeling that someone meant to do her harm, mentally if not physically.

  If that wasn't enough to distract her, she hadn't heard word one from Mike since he'd set off on foot to retrieve his truck. She wasn't looking for a relationship with him or anyone, but she had come to enjoy his friendship and liked his company from time to time. Okay, she also recognized a strong physical attraction when he was around, something she hadn't felt since Danny. None of it meant anything in the long run, but still, not hearing from Mike added to her sense of loss, a feeling that suddenly, not much was going right in her life.

  On the other hand, Lacy's life looked pretty darn good compared to what happened to the defendant in court that afternoon. The jury found the man guilty of all charges, the most damning of which was first degree murder. They also recommended a life sentence without parole, the worst case scenario considering the fact that North Dakota did not proffer the death sentence.

  Her work week finished, Lacy headed to Napoleon Saturday, lunched with her mother and paid the usual visit to her father, and then drove home with the usual sense of sadness.

  Actually looking for a distraction this time, she spent the evening sorting notes on the Hankins murder. Given the gruesome aspects of the case, it was the talk of the town and kept law enforcement officials busy running down leads, so far, all of them useless. Lacy had written two full articles about the murder along with a couple of short, police blotter notes, but still hadn't been able to put together the memorial she'd hoped to write for Candee Hankins. Since the girl had no living relatives, at least none that could offer the information Lacy sought, she decided the next best thing would be Candee's girlfriends. She made a note to call Jerry Hankins on Monday morning, and then, if necessary, to take a walk on the wild side of town, notebook in hand.

  On Sunday morning she donned her favorite amethyst shirtdress that featured a ruffled bodice, warded off the chill with a black belted trench coat, and headed out the door to pay Brian's 'bill' for giving her the head's up on Candee Hankins' identity. As she checked to make sure the door was locked, she spotted a message someone had spray-painted on the stark white door. The big black letters spelled out a swear word, one used specifically for women.

  Her heartbeat rapidly accelerating, she spun on her heel and quickly scanned the neighborhood for movement. Just the usual Sunday morning activities, a few lawnmowers hitting the grass for possibly the last time until next spring, the man across the street washing his car, a couple of youngsters playing hoops.

  Lacy closed her eyes and then looked back at the door. The profanity was still there, practically screaming the vile name in her ears. What to do? She couldn't leave it there for all the world to see, and yet, there was no way she could be late to church.

  Dashing back into the house, Lacy grabbed a section of the Sunday newspaper and a roll of duct tape. After covering the lettering as best she could, she drove the few blocks to the church. Willing her heartbeat back to normal, she wondered who might have violated her home in such a despicable manner as she sat in the parking lot waiting for her friend and colleague, Paula Barrett, to arrive.

  Paula, the Herald's best photographer, was a year or two younger than Lacy, three inches shorter, and probably the happiest person on the planet. She always wore a smile, usually a big grin, and her bright blue eyes glistened with stars that seemed to dance on the surface of her thick glasses. She had a swirl of short, curly blond hair that not only appeared to be wild and unmanageable, but was.

  When her car pulled up and parked a couple of spaces away from the Jeep, Lacy climbed out and hurried over to her friend. The two hugged, and Lacy noted that, as usual, Paula smelled faintly of baby powder. She considered telling her about the vandalism to her front door, but realized they were already a few minutes late. She would have to save that and the story about the dog droppings until services were over.

  "Thanks for coming," Lacy said. "I don't know why, but I'm really nervous about this. I need you to shove me in the door."

  "I can do that, but I will not hold your hand." Paula laughed and then wagged a finger in Lacy's face. "I could be home snuggled in bed with Billy right now. You're going to owe me big time for this."

  Billy was Paula's husband of less than a year, but Lacy didn't take the bait. "Excuse me, but I believe that this little inconvenience is payback for the unforgettable trip I made to the refuge in your place last week."

  Paula sighed. "Right. Let's get this over with."

  As the two made their way inside the large arc-shaped building, Lacy expected to find row after row of rigid stiff-backed pews. Instead the seating area was comprised of thickly padded folding chairs, many of which were in orderly rows. Others were facing each other in conversation style, and some were simply sitting at non-conforming angles. Most of them faced what looked more like a theater stage than an alter, although the requisite pulpit was planted firmly at center stage. The back of the church, which was also the entrance, featured several large picnic tables covered in white cloths. These tables were laden with edibles of every kind, quite literally from soup to nuts.

  "Wow," Paula said, her eye
s enormous through the thick glasses. "Look at that dessert table. Let's go check it out."

  "Hang on a minute." Lacy glanced at the crowd, figuring there were at least one hundred if not more worshipers present. "I don't know what the protocol is here. I ought to find Brian and ask him what to do."

  And while she was at it, mention the vandalism at her home and ask him if she ought to file a complaint with the police department. As she scanned the crowd a second time, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  Lacy turned and came face to face with Brian. "I was just looking for you."

  "And now you found me." He gestured to the woman at his side, a sunny brunette with a few strands of silver slithering through her hair. "This is my wife, Lois. This is Lacy Erikson from the Herald and this is Paula... sorry, I don't think I know your last name."

  "Barrett," she supplied. "And I'm also with the Herald."

  "Nice to meet both of you," Lois said, reaching for Lacy's hand and then Paula's. "I've heard a lot about you."

  Lacy could feel the heat in her cheeks. "All of it good, I hope."

  Lois laughed, a lovely feminine sound. "Actually, I guess I've read more than I've heard. I never miss your column or byline."

  "Why, thank you. It's very kind of you to say so."

  Lois laughed again. "Actually, to be honest, part of the reason I'm such a great fan is the fact that you mention Brian's name from time to time. I cut those articles out."

  "All right," Brian said. "That's enough ego-boosting. We'd better get on over to the dessert table before the girls clean out all the chocolate."

  Lacy glanced at the back of the room and sure enough, a pair of twin girls were busy loading up their plates with brownies. She knew they had to be Brian's children. He talked about them often enough, from their curly ponytails to their deep love for all things chocolate.

  Brian took his wife by the hand and said to Lacy and Paula, "Enjoy yourselves and be sure to grab a bar or donut and a coffee before services start. You've got about ten minutes."

  Then they strolled off in the direction of their children. Lacy was so caught up in watching this side of Brian—the husband and family man—that she didn't see Mike heading her way until he was standing not two feet away.

  "I didn't know you went to this church," he said, grabbing her attention.

  "Oh, Mike." Something was stuck in Lacy's throat. She thought it might be her heart. "I, uh, don't really belong here. I sort of lost a bet with Brian."

  He laughed, a deep muscular sound. "That's how he got me here, too." He glanced at Paula and then offered his hand. "Mike Lindahl. I'm a friend of Lacy's."

  "Paula Barrett," she said, shaking his hand. "I'm also a friend of Lacy's as well as a photographer. We work together at the Bismarck Herald."

  "What a coincidence," Mike said. "You're Lacy's real photographer and I'm her fake photographer."

  Paula cocked her head. "Huh?"

  Lacy couldn't think of a thing to say. She just stood there staring at her best friend and her... she didn't even know how to think of Mike. What was he? A friend, an acquaintance, a man who hated her driving?

  An awkward silence permeated the air around the trio, and then suddenly evaporated as a young woman bounced her way up to Mike's side.

  "There you are," she gushed. "I'm so glad you came today. I baked those bars I was telling you about. Come try one before they're all gone."

  Mike spread his palms. "Excuse me, ladies," he said to Lacy and Paula. "Duty calls."

  And then he allowed the obviously flirtatious young woman to drag him to the dessert table.

  Paula looked Lacy in the eye and said, "Why haven't you told me about him?"

  "Him?" Lacy blinked as if coming out of a daze.

  Paula jerked her thumb in Mike's direction. "Him, Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome."

  Lacy's gaze wandered to Mike. He was wearing black jeans and a pale pink dress shirt opened at the collar. Her mouth watered as she said, "He's not all that tall."

  "Okay, then, Mister Not-So-Tall, Dark and Handsome. Why haven't you told me about him?"

  Lacy forced a casual shrug. "There's not that much to tell. I met him at the refuge last week, then I went to Dickinson with him to catch a scofflaw and we had dinner together."

  "You went on a date with this guy and didn't tell me?"

  There wasn't much sparkle in Paula's blue eyes now, and Lacy had no one to blame but herself. Why hadn't she told her about Mike and the things they'd shared? Why did it feel so wrong to acknowledge the attraction she felt for this man, or even acknowledge that he'd made her remember how good it could feel to be a woman?

  "So that's it?" Paula persisted. "You're just going to pretend that nothing's going on between you two?"

  "Nothing is, and we didn't exactly go on a date. Mike hired me as his assistant for the night."

  "So now you're saying he's your other employer?" Paula rolled her big blue eyes. "If our city editor ever looked at his assistant the way Mike looks at you, he'd find himself in jail on harassment charges."

  Something warm flooded Lacy's chest, but still she chose to ignore those feelings. "Mike doesn't look at me in any particular way. He's just a friend."

  "Sure he is."

  Her attention on Mike at the dessert table, her mind wondering if he was dating the young woman who was practically force-feeding him baked goods, Lacy finally caught something odd, an insinuation in Paula's tone.

  Without taking her eyes off of Mike, she said, "What?"

  "Try to remember where you are," Paula whispered. "We're at church, so maybe we ought to go sit down." She took another look at Lacy and added, "And close your mouth."

  * * *

  Lacy snapped out of her daze, stupor, or whatever ailment had snared her in its web, and managed to get through the services without incident. She also enjoyed much of what the pastor had to say, even though her faith had been badly shaken when she lost Danny and the baby. When the services ended, but before the congregation was dismissed, the pastor reminded everyone that hot food was ready for consumption at the back of the church and that all were invited to join in the feast.

  As Paula rose from her chair, she said, "That's it for me. I'm going home now to fix a little brunch for Billy."

  "Oh, sure, go on ahead. I doubt I'll stick around either. Thanks for coming."

  Paula gave her a hug. "It was my pleasure. I haven't been to church in a while. Maybe I'll talk Billy into going with me next week."

  As she bid her friend farewell, Lacy gathered her jacket and bag, and then headed for the door. She had no intention of sticking around watching other women feed Mike as if he were some kind of rare exotic pet. Better she should stop at the store and pick up a frozen pizza than observe the craziness of some women at the sight of a good-looking man. So intent was she in escaping, Lacy collided with Mike, who was standing by the door.

  His breath came out with a whoosh and he said, "Hey, slow down, stay a while."

  Lacy glanced around, but didn't spot any of his admirers. She smiled and said, "I don't belong to this church and don't really know anyone besides Brian. I think I'll just go on home."

  The corners of Mike's mouth dropped. "You know me, but then again, I guess you probably wish we'd never met."

  This made absolutely no sense. "What?"

  "You're mad at me and I don't blame you. Can we start over again?"

  Lacy opened her palms. "I guess we'd better because I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Hi. I'm Mike and I'm a terrible, awful passenger. Please forgive me if I upset you with my unkind comments about your driving the other day. I was way out of line."

  That's why she hadn't heard from him? Because he thought she was mad? Lacy almost laughed as she said, "Hi. I'm Lacy and I'm a really, really bad driver. I hope you didn't have to take a tranquilizer when you got back to your truck."

  Mike smiled, lighting up his dark eyes. Then he stuck out his hand and said, "Friends again?"

 
; She shook his hand. "Friends."

  "Good, then allow me to buy you breakfast or whatever it is they're serving."

  She glanced at the tables and the crowd lining up behind them. "I didn't realize they were charging for the food."

  "They're not. I'm still trying to get back into your good graces and didn't want you to think I'm a cheap date. Would you rather go out to a restaurant for breakfast?"

  "No, but really, I ought to go."

  "They're just about to start the music. Can't you stay for at least part of the concert?"

  She'd forgotten the music fest part of the program. Besides, with her luck, she'd run into Brian in the parking lot and he'd wonder why she was leaving before the festivities were over. With a sigh, she said, "I guess I wouldn't mind staying a little longer."

  "Then allow me." Mike stuck out his elbow, inviting Lacy to take his arm, and they made their way to the back of the line.

  As they inched their way toward the tantalizing aromas, Lacy looked around for the deputy sheriff, but he was nowhere in sight. "Do you see Brian anywhere? I've got a problem and need a little advice from law enforcement."

  "He's probably backstage arranging the start of the concert." Then he spread his arms wide. "Will former law enforcement do?"

  "Oh, right. I suppose you'd know as much about this as Brian." Lacy had somehow forgotten that Mike had recently been with the Minneapolis Police Department. "It's probably too petty to even mention though, just a silly prank."

  "It must be something more than that or you wouldn't be worried about it. What is it?"

  "A couple of things happened to my house over the past two days. Friday night someone left a huge pile of dog droppings on my porch."

  "Was this pile in a brown bag and was it on fire?"

  Lacy's chin snapped up. "What? No."

  Mike shrugged. "I'm personally familiar with the bag of doo on fire prank. So nobody rang your bell to let you know it was there. You just found your surprise when you opened the door in the morning?"