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Mamie Eichorn chuckled. “I don’t know. Substituting an S for the W told everyone what the mean old coot is really like.”
“Maybe so, but that mean old coot pays his bills on time,” Cole reminded her.
“And each time acts as if we’re bleeding him dry.” She rolled her eyes.
“I hear there’s a new cop in town,” he commented. “A story about her would make a good human interest piece. Nothing better than a mom with kids. And there’s even a dog. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it?”
“I heard the dog is her partner,” Mamie noted.
“Even better on the human interest angle.” Cole picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. He believed in doing his homework ahead of time. By talking to a couple of contacts in L.A., he’d been able to pick up a lot of information about the former Los Angeles Sheriff’s Detective, Bree Fitzpatrick. He’d even had a photograph faxed to him—of the widow standing tall at her husband’s funeral. Cole had heard an impressive listing of the woman’s accomplishments.
Unlike the proper widow, Cole was a complete contradiction. He looked like one of those guys who didn’t move a muscle unless it was absolutely necessary. Only those who knew him well understood that his body and mind could move swift as lightning when he needed to.
“I called over to the station, but the new detective is in with Roy.” He spoke in a low rumble that slid like warm lotion over a woman’s skin. “Think you could find out the new detective’s home telephone number for me?”
Even Mamie, who’d been happily married for the past fifty-six years, wasn’t immune to Cole’s lethal charm.
“The woman hasn’t even settled in and you’re already calling her up for a date? She has children, Cole. I thought you drew the line at women with families.”
He agreed. “I do. Too much trouble. This is business, Mamie.”
“Like I’ll believe that,” she retorted. “You’re not getting any younger, Cole. Finding someone with a ready-made family is a good way for you to go. Saves a lot of time.”
“You make it sound like my sperm’s in some retirement home. Herb Dickinson became a father last year, and he’s in his late seventies,” Cole pointed out in his defense.
Mamie shook her head. “Herb needs new glasses. That baby looks more like their pool man than he looks like Herb, even if the kid’s as bald as his alleged daddy.”
“There you go.” He grinned. “Herb doesn’t care who the baby looks like. He’s just happy everyone’s calling him a stud.”
“Some stud,” she snorted with disdain. “Herb has an artificial hip, a glass eye and high blood pressure.”
“And a twenty-eight-year-old wife. I’d say the man did something right.”
Mamie blithely ignored him as she continued. “If you don’t do something about your social life, you’ll be worse off than him.”
“That’s why I go out of town.”
Mamie shook her head. “So what’s next on your agenda?”
Cole flashed her a warm smile. “I guess I’ll just have to call over to the sheriff’s station again. See about setting up an interview with our new sheriff’s detective.”
His assistant shot him a knowing look. “And you say it’s business only.”
Cole played it cool. “You got it.”
Mamie started to leave the room, then paused. She stared at him for several moments. “What’s really going on, Cole?”
He gave her a bland look. “Working on next week’s edition.”
She shook her head again. “I don’t know what’s going on in that mind of yours, but I have a feeling it might not be good.”
Cole flashed a smile that had warmed many a woman’s heart. “Just doin’ my job.”
This time she wasn’t fooled.
Bree hated first days. Cody’s first day of first grade. Sara’s first day as a high school sophomore. David’s first day as a high school senior. Her own first day with the Warm Springs Sheriff’s Department.
While Sheriff Roy Holloway was helpful, her peers weren’t. They didn’t make it difficult for her, but they didn’t make it easy, either.
She arrived home to find Cody almost in tears. He looked at her and declared he hated school.
“We only have a dumb parakeet,” he muttered, with a slight whine to his voice.
“I’ve heard of some smart parakeets,” she offered.
“Not this one.” His eyes plaintively beseeched her. “I want to go back to my old school, Mom.”
“Sweetie, it’s only your first day,” she murmured. “You have to give it time.”
He shook his head.
Bree looked at her stepson and stepdaughter. They didn’t look all that happy, either.
“Don’t tell me you only have parakeets in your class, too,” she said lightly. Her joke fell flat.
David was tight-lipped about his day. Sara announced she was going to her room.
“And how was your day, Bree?” she asked herself as she checked the casserole she’d popped in the oven as soon as she got home. “Just fine. Thank you for asking. The sheriff is an okay guy, but I can’t say much for everyone else. The deputies treat me as if I carry the dreaded plague, and the dispatcher informed me she’s allergic to dogs.” Bree pulled out makings for a salad and began tearing a head of lettuce into pieces. “Now I learn that Cody’s convinced everyone hates him. David hates his school and Sara is positive she won’t make any new friends. How do I know that’s how they’re feeling, when they haven’t said a word to me? Easy. I’m a detective. I read minds.” Her movements were almost violent as she tossed a variety of vegetables into the bowl.
When the phone rang, she snagged it before the first ring faded away.
She glanced at her caller ID and noticed it listed Warm Springs Bulletin as the caller.
“Fitzpatrick.”
“Detective Fitzpatrick? I’m Cole Becker with the Warm Springs Bulletin.” A man’s lazy drawl drifted across her mind the way a soft comforter covered her body. “Welcome to our fair town.”
Bree felt a tingle begin deep inside her body and move upward. She wasn’t sure if it was warm in the kitchen or just her. She feared it was all her.
“Thank you,” she said warily.
“I was wondering if there was any possibility we could get together?”
“Why?” she asked.
“I’d like to interview you for the newspaper. See how you feel being Warm Springs’s first female detective. What prompted you to move to Warm Springs. Human interest stuff,” he explained.
Stuff? He didn’t sound like any reporter she’d ever come across.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Becker.” She didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. “But right now, I’m in the midst of fixing dinner.”
“How about we talk over breakfast tomorrow?”
“I like to have breakfast with my kids.”
“Lunch? They’ll be in school then, right?”
She gave him points for figuring that one out.
“This isn’t a good time, Mr. Becker. I’m still settling in.” She wasn’t about to tell him she hated interviews. People usually spelled her name wrong or made her sound as if she was an avenging angel with PMS. “No free time at all.”
“I’m sure you are busy, Detective. But wouldn’t you want the people to know about the woman behind the badge? Show them that while you’re wearing that badge and carrying a gun, you’re still a mom and a human being?”
“Not my style,” she retorted.
“Then why don’t we talk about something that is your style,” he suggested. “Something I think you’d like to know.”
Bree felt a familiar tingle at the base of her neck. She’d never ignored the warning signal before, and a few times it had even saved her life.
How could something happen in this small town when she was barely unpacked? She could feel her jaw tightening. She didn’t know what was going on, but felt this was more than a request for an interview.
“Tomorrow. Lunch. One o’clock,” she rattled. “I’ll leave the choice of restaurant up to you. I haven’t learned which ones are better than others.”
“Then I’ll make it easy for you. Two doors down from you is The Eatery. I’ll see you there at one.” He hung up.
Bree stared at her phone before she set it back in the cradle. “It’s not as if you’re marrying the man, Bree. Just think of it as a free meal,” she murmured as she turned to the oven when the timer dinged. “Dinner!” she called out.
Instead of the clatter of three sets of feet that normally followed her announcement, three quiet souls marched into the kitchen. They started to take their seats, then instantly rose up in response to their mom’s telling stare.
Sara headed for the refrigerator and pulled out the bottles of salad dressing. Cody filled glasses with iced tea and milk, while David carried the casserole dish over to the table.
Bree pasted on a bright smile as she sat down. “So, tell me about your day,” she urged in her best June Cleaver voice.
They all looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“So Cole Becker’s going to interview you today?” Roy grinned at Bree’s look of astonishment. “No secrecy in this town, Fitzpatrick. Someone asked about you when I stopped for coffee. You’ll have to get used to everyone knowing your business.”
“I should have cleared it with you first,” she said uneasily, silently damning Cole Becker to hell. “He said it’s purely a human interest type story about the new arrival in town.”
“Don’t worry about it, Fitzpatrick,” the sheriff replied. “Becker’s like one of those bloodhounds who refuses to give up. Believe me, if you hadn’t agreed to the interview, he would have found another way. He’s one persistent son of a bitch,” he said without rancor.
“You don’t need to worry about my saying anything I shouldn’t. I’ve dealt with the press in the past without any dire consequences,” she assured him. Her stomach was already roiling at the thought of sharing a meal with a man who sounded like the devil incarnate. “I can tell him I can’t make it.”
Roy shook his head. “I can tell you haven’t dealt with this man. Don’t worry about it. Take advantage of him picking up the tab. Sit there and smile at the guy. Tell him you came out here so your kids would grow up breathing clean air.”
Bree grimaced. “I really prefer not talking about my children to the media,” she told him. “I think you can realize why.”
Her superior looked at her and nodded in understanding. As police officers, they were fully aware of just how vulnerable kids today were.
“Bree, you’re living in a small town now. Everyone knew everything there was to know about you within ten minutes of you moving in. I’ll be the first to tell you your kids are safer here than they would have been in L.A. I’m not saying we haven’t seen problems with drugs, but we’ve been pretty successful in keeping the gangs out, and any kid caught with drugs finds out just how stupid he or she is. Cole’s looking for human interest fluff for his readers. Give him what he wants and he’ll go away. Trust me,” he told her in a soothing voice.
“If it was my choice I’d rather have a root canal without anesthesia,” she muttered, rising to her feet.
Roy laughed out loud. “Yeah, but you don’t get a free meal out of a root canal.”
“Then maybe you should do the interview,” she murmured, leaving the office.
Bree’s first alert that something was wrong was the way Jinx stood by her desk. His entire body vibrated with the need for action.
“So what did they do, huh, boy?” she whispered, sitting at her desk. She didn’t have to look around to notice everyone’s attention was centered on her, even if no one looked in her direction. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
She didn’t miss the sound of Frank Robert’s malicious chuckle from the other side of the room.
She swiftly reviewed past misdeeds thought up by co-workers. The flour bomb left in a desk drawer. Her picture pasted on top of a Playboy centerfold. Fake vomit placed under her desk chair. She affectionately called the perpetrators her own juvenile delinquents. And she did her own damage when the occasion arose.
She found what she was looking for in the second drawer. As soon as she opened it, a triangular head slid upward and a narrow, forked tongue flicked out to test the air. Bree leaned back a bit as a long, sinuous column swept toward her, seeking the heat of her body.
“Well, aren’t you a cutie,” she cooed, picking up the snake, which immediately wrapped itself around her arm. “And what did they arrest you for?” She glanced at Jinx, who whined in displeasure at having such a creature invade his partner’s private space. She had no doubt every eye was on her. “A rosy boa, isn’t he?” she said to no one in particular. She stroked the reptile’s head. “My oldest son has one.”
Keith, one of the deputies, rose to his feet. He looked a little uneasy as he approached her. “So that’s where he got to,” he chuckled, but the sound came out forced. “Mabel’s my son’s snake,” he explained, walking over with his hand outstretched, ready to take the boa from her.
“Mabel,” Bree murmured as she studied the reptile, which seemed content to remain wrapped around her arm. “Interesting name. Ours is named David Boa.” She grinned.
This time Keith’s chuckle was more natural as he understood the twist on words. As he turned, he caught sight of Frank’s dark expression. He turned away immediately.
“Keith, do you have some place for Mabel or should I just put her back in my desk?” Bree asked. “She seemed to have made herself at home there.”
His face reddened even more. “Ah, I’ve got a box in my locker.”
“She can stay here until you get back.” She set the snake back in the drawer.
Bree noticed some of the men looked wary, but a few still appeared hostile. She sensed this was just the beginning of pranks meant to test a new colleague.
But Bree wasn’t easily intimidated.
Since it was getting close to the time for her lunch meeting, she walked Jinx outside to the small fenced enclosure fixed up for him. She made sure he had plenty of water before she closed the gate after him.
“Can you believe those guys thought they could scare me with a measly snake?” she asked her canine partner. “As if that would do it. I have teenagers, for God’s sake!”
She went back inside and stopped in the ladies’ room long enough to freshen her lipstick and cologne. She knew her outfit was professional looking, with a touch of femininity—a square of lace peeking out of the pocket on her navy houndstooth vest, topping navy linen pants. She made sure her pager was switched on, then grabbed her purse and left.
Now to see if the man looked as good as he sounded.
The man looked even better than he sounded.
Bree might not have met Cole Becker before, but when she stepped inside the restaurant, she had no problem targeting her quarry.
He sat in the last booth, his back against the wall. Long jean-clad legs were stretched out in front of him. Neatly shorn black hair flecked with silver framed a blatantly male face, whose signs of wear and tear only accented his rough good looks. A faded gray, cotton button-down shirt matched the equally faded jeans.
He looked like a man who had all the time in the world. As if nothing mattered except what he was going to order for lunch.
Bree knew better. There was something in that deceptively lazy gaze wandering over her that said this man probably knew everything about her down to her bra size. Just from that look.
An energetic Beatles tune boomed out of a jukebox near the front door. The first thing that hit the people who entered the restaurant was the black and hot-pink decor. Hot-pink vinyl bench seats framed black tables of the booths, and pink and black vinyl alternated on stools at the counter. Most of them were occupied, Bree noted. Chatter momentarily halted as the occupants paused and identified the newcomer.
Her gaze returned to the man sitting in the booth at the rear of the room.
Oh my God. No man should look this good.
She resolutely kept her jaw up off the floor as she walked toward him. This man didn’t need to worry that the lines by his eyes and mouth had been stamped there by time and the sun. They only intensified his good looks. He watched her with an expression that also betrayed a hint of amusement, as if he was aware of her thoughts.
He has to be used to lots of feminine appreciation.
Storm-gray eyes that matched his shirt tracked her movements. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion and held out his hand.
He had to be a good six feet two inches to her five feet eight. She wasn’t used to men towering over her, and it had been a long time since a man looked at her the way Cole Becker was. As if she was today’s blue plate special.
“Detective Fitzpatrick, I’m Cole Becker.” He spoke in that kind of supremely masculine voice that wouldn’t sound out of place in a woman’s bedroom.
Where did that thought come from? She firmly shook it off before it gathered too much momentum.
“Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward the bench across from his, then looked past her. “Did you leave your partner back at the station?”
She mentally gave him points for knowing about Jinx. But then, as Roy had told her, there’s no privacy in a small town.
“His table manners can’t always be trusted,” she replied, sliding across the hot-pink vinyl seat.
“Too bad. I was hoping to meet him.” Cole sat down. “I can guarantee everything they serve here is fantastic,” he added, nodding toward the menu. “And it’s on me.”
Bree arched an eyebrow. “Some might see that as bribing a police officer.”
“I don’t think Holloway would consider a $5.95 hamburger a bribe,” Cole murmured with amusement. “But if you order the steak sandwich, favors will be asked for.”
“Hey there, hon.” A waitress stopped by the table. Her gaze was filled with unabashed curiosity as she stared down at Bree.
“Annie, this is the town’s new detective, Bree Fitzpatrick,” Cole introduced. “Detective, this is Annie, the love of my life who keeps me well fed.”
Annie shot him her “get out of here” look.
“Nice to meet you, hon,” she said warmly. “What can I get you to drink?”
Bree smiled back. “Iced tea, please.”
She nodded and started to walk away.
“Hey, Annie, I don’t get asked?” Cole said with mock hurt.
She laughed. “Oh, hon, the day you don’t drink black coffee is the day the sky will turn plaid.” She wiggled ample hips encased in denim. “I’ll get your drinks now. That’ll give the detective time to figure out what she wants to eat.” She pointed her finger at Cole. “You, I already know.”
“Eat here often, do you?” Bree asked, entertained by the waitress’s lively chatter.
“Only two times a day, seven days a week,” he admitted. “But we’re here to talk about you. I understand you have three kids. Two from your husband’s first marriage, the third yours and your husband’s.”
The light in Bree’s eyes dimmed a bit. As if obeying a command from within, she pasted on her professional expression.
“I consider all three mine,” she replied, pausing long enough to murmur her thanks as the waitress deposited her drink in front of her. “But I really prefer we not discuss my children. I like to keep my work and personal life separate.”
The lines fanning out from his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You’ve never lived in a small town before, have you? The favorite entertainment around here is learning everything you can about your neighbor. Once the residents know all the little details, they consider you one of their own. It’s already common knowledge you bought Mrs. McGyver’s place. As for your job, the city council liked your credentials, which I have to say were impressive, and your hire was almost immediate. Detectives with your credentials don’t usually come to a place like Warm Springs,” he told her. “Of course, it doesn’t hurt when you’ve got some city politicians on your side.”
Bree’s gaze could have cut through him like a hot knife through butter. He didn’t look the least bit cowed. If anything, he smiled more.
She looked up when Annie returned to take her order. Bree quickly examined the menu and asked for a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich.
“I’ll have my usual,” Cole said.
Annie gave an unladylike snort. “Like I didn’t already know.” She moved away.
“One day I’ll order something different,” he called after her.
“Sure, and tomorrow Harrison Ford is going to show up and take me away from all this grandeur,” the waitress snickered.
Bree smothered her chuckle. “Stand in line.”
Cole looked at Bree and decided she was one fine-looking woman, even if she did carry a gun and could probably pin him up against a wall with a minimum of effort.
He’d never thought of freckles as sexy until he noticed them lightly dusted across her nose. They went with the red hair tucked behind her ears and wisped across her forehead. Her tailored clothing stated she was no-nonsense. Probably had to give that impression because of her occupation. But the citron studs in her ears, gold filigreed chain around her neck and the hint of perfume proclaimed her femininity to anyone who cared to look for it. His gaze flicked downward. She wore no wedding ring, so she must have laid her husband to rest even in her heart.
Cole was positive she’d deck him if he told her she was cute.
Besides, she was not his type. Law enforcement officials he’d met in the past were pretty regimented in their thinking. And the woman had three kids.
No, not his type. Even if just looking at her made his day.
This meeting was purely business, however. He’d dangled a little mystery in front of the lady to get her here. After all, who was more qualified to solve a murder than a homicide detective?
He wondered if he could trust her.
“How about if I start off with some humor,” he suggested. “What was one of the funniest things to happen to you on the job?”
Bree thought for a moment. “The first year I worked patrol, we were called to a carjacking scene. We were only a block away and arrived in time to see the suspect take off. We wasted no time in going after him. We apprehended the suspect and told him we were bringing him back for an ID. The minute we pulled him out of the car to face the woman, he said, ‘Yep, that’s the lady I robbed.’ He was dead serious when he said it, too. My partner and I couldn’t stop laughing. Good thing we’d Mirandized him the minute we grabbed him. There was no way his confession could be thrown out. That good enough for you?”
Cole chuckled. “Definitely. You gotta love an easy confession like that.”
“It did make it a lot easier for us,” she admitted.
“I would think Warm Springs would seem pretty quiet after the fast pace in L.A.,” he commented, looking up to smile at Annie as she set their plates in front of them. As always, his hamburger was grilled to perfection, the sauteed mushrooms on top of the meat finishing the work of art. The onion rings were golden brown and crispy. “Marry me, Annie,” he begged.
“The day I say yes is the day you’ll hotfoot it out of town,” she hooted.
“That’s what you eat every day?” Bree asked curiously, as she sprinkled salt on her French fries.
He shook his head. “Only on Wednesdays. I believe in a varied diet. So tell me, how long did you work for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department?”
“I was with the department for twelve years, the last three in homicide.”
“I guess Warm Springs seems pretty tame after all the excitement you had in L.A.,” he commented.
Her smile rivaled that of a shark moving in for the kill. “Sometimes what looks tame on the surface isn’t. I’ve heard that can happen in small towns.”
Damn, he should have known better than to underestimate the lady. It was as if she knew exactly what he was leading up to. But would she accuse him of chasing shadows that weren’t there?
She pushed her plate to one side so she could rest her arms on the tabletop. She fixed him with a steely gaze that had prompted more than one suspect to confess all. “Cut to the chase, Becker. Why are we sitting here having this conversation? No BS, either.”