“We appreciate the help. Two of our officers got new jobs, one in Atlanta and the other in Phoenix, during the summer. We’re down to just Wayne and me, and we’re looking to hire a pair of experienced cops. Well, we do have the chief, but you know his limitations.”
“Bruce is a good man.”
“But with tough limitations.”
Bruce Zacharias had been one of Charlotte’s best two decades ago, but these days his biggest battle was against worsening rheumatoid arthritis. He handled all of Loganton’s administrative work, directed Maggie and Wayne and was rumored to be about to announce his retirement.
“We all have our limitations, Maggie. That’s why I wish Steph had cameras in and around that store. They would catch what all of us, out of necessity and because of other assignments, miss.”
Hal stared at the stacked logs in his fireplace. His home always gave him a great deal of satisfaction, but tonight, nothing seemed to ease the knot in his right shoulder or the one in his gut. Maybe it was just hunger. He’d picked up his dinner from Granny Annie’s just as the woman was about to lock up.
Maybe it was Steph’s situation.
“I think we’ll get further on this one if we team up,” he told the police officer. “I’m sure you guys want this stopped, and I don’t want to see Steph Scott hurt again.”
“10-4, Sheriff Benson, 10-4.”
They hung up after brief good-nights, and then Hal went to ignite the pile of kindling he’d set out that morning before leaving for work. Soon, he had lively flames dancing in the fireplace, but instead of “Blue Rondo,” he’d put a moody Miles Davis CD into the player. The woodwork could wait another day.
He zapped the meal, and at the microwave’s ping, he took a fork, his plate and a glass of iced tea to his leather armchair. He began to eat his belated supper, not tasting a single bite.
If nothing else, he would keep Steph safe.
The next day, when Hal walked into Granny Annie’s for lunch, he almost turned right around without even pausing for a drink. Just inside the door, he came face-to-face with Ed Townsend, the other contender for his job in the upcoming election.
The freshly minted lawyer had been giving Hal headaches with his legalese-laced diatribes, and Hal preferred to avoid meeting the man in public places. Ed never missed a chance to attack Hal.
“Well, hello there, Sheriff!” the red-haired lawyer cried in an overly hearty voice. “Had yourself a busy couple of days lately, I hear. I’m sure a law-and-order man like yourself has the culprits behind bars by now, right? Has Miss Scott’s mugger been assigned a public defender? How about the vandal? Our Constitution does provide him with the right to legal representation, and everyone does have the right to due process, you know.”
Hal fought the urge to grind his teeth—or grind Ed’s teeth with five itching knuckles. “We’re taking care of the matter, Ed. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Still taking care of the matter?” The lawyer’s reddish mustache wriggled with ill-concealed glee. “You mean we still have a mugger loose in town?”
With a quick glance around the diner, Hal verified that every ear, if not eye, was glued to the conversation. “Sorry to deny you the pleasure,” he told Ed. “But you know I can’t discuss the particulars of an ongoing investigation. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to order some lunch.”
Ed opened his arms wide and spun to glance at everyone in the diner. “There you have it, folks. Your sheriff at his best. Lunch at Granny Annie’s takes priority to investigating crime. You know who to vote for, who’ll keep you safe.” He winked at Hal. “See ya in the voting booth in November.”
As Ed sauntered out and Hal’s cheeks sizzled, Granny Annie barged through the swinging doors to the kitchen. “What’s the matter with that Townsend boy? He gets hisself a fancy paper from that there Duke University Law School, and he thinks he can go around blabbin’ nonsense all day long.”
Had there been any way to do so without ruining every last chance of winning reelection, Hal would have slunk right out of the diner. Public humiliation was not a meal a man swallowed easily.
And he didn’t need five-foot-nothing Granny Annie to defend him. She might, however, make a spectacular campaign manager.
Then Mr. Cooper, the postmaster, stood up, slapped a bill into Granny’s hand and shook his head. “That, folks, is why none of us is fool enough to vote for Ed.”
Although it wasn’t unanimous, Hal counted more nods than not. There was no way he could leave his county to Ed’s questionable mercies. It was rumored the lawyer saw the sheriff’s spot as a rung up the political ladder and nothing more. What kind of commitment was that? What kind of service would Ed provide?
Maybe he really should enlist Granny’s help. She was the county’s most efficient means of information proliferation, and he could stand all the positive talking-up he could get. In that regard, Granny might be an asset.
Then again, maybe not. She was also a dyed-in-the-wool matchmaker who made no secret she wanted nothing more than to find a match for Hal.
His cell phone rang. The LCD display showed his new deputy Patsy’s number. He flicked it open, fully aware that, as comforting as her staunch support was, he couldn’t let Granny’s antics distract him. He had real crime to deal with.
He had Steph to protect.
And his job to save.
THREE
On Thursday, Steph noticed a significant increase in browser traffic through the store. At first, it irritated her. Then it amused her—after all, how many neighbors were going to miss the chance to check out the notorious blood pressure cuff boxes? On the other hand, she did wonder if they were just curious or if they expected to find a twenty sticking out of another box.
Darcy stopped by while on an errand for Miss Tabitha. “You’re the talk of the town, girl!” She punctuated her words with a bubble-gum pop.
“Tell me about it.”
“Don’t knock it,” Darcy said, chewing away. “Think of the increased cha-ching! Your bank account will love the craziness of it all.”
“Give me normalcy—please.”
With a laugh, Darcy left. The constant flow of looky-loos continued.
Even Chad Adams hung around for an eternity after making his delivery—at least, he hung around long enough to locate the case of insulin syringes they had marked as missing from the delivery. Surprise, surprise! It turned up in his truck. At two o’clock Steph found him still wandering the aisles, a second bag of licorice in hand.
Chad could always use an extra twenty. The postmaster’s younger brother-in-law had a streak of failed ventures under his belt and a list of worthless patents to his name. Mr. Cooper often complained about Chad’s mooching ways.
At a quarter to four, Jimmy came up to the pharmacy counter to complain about the many times in the forty-five minutes since he’d come to work he’d had to mop the entry because of all the muddy footprints. Steph gave in to the inevitable. She laughed.
“Let it go for a while,” she told the teen. “We’re today’s talk of the town. They’re going to keep coming, so you may as well wait until later to clean up the mess. Just be glad it’s no longer raining. The mud will dry up out there soon enough.”
The boy shrugged. “If you say so. I just hope nobody trips and falls checking out those boxes.”
“Tell you what,” she said. “I have a new mat in the back room. Why don’t you bring it out? At least we can offer