Midnight Cravings. Elizabeth Harbison
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skin tingle from head to toe.
“Honey, I don’t even have a deputy.”
Horrible realization came over her like a bucket of cold water. “Oh, my God.”
He shook his head. “Didn’t you think it was a little strange that the deputy was locked up in a cell?”
“Yes, of course.” It was hard to defend what was, in retrospect, such an idiotic action, but she tried.
“But so far the police department has been so efficiency-challenged that nothing about it could surprise me.”
“Well, we keep the criminals locked up here in Beldon. What do they do with them where you come from?”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. “All right, I get it. Who is he really?”
Without averting his eyes from hers, he called, “Tell her your real name, Deputy.”
After a moment, the voice answered, “Henry Lawtell.”
“What are you in for?”
“No good reason!”
Still holding her gaze, Dan said, “Henry’s in jail for the third time this year after drinking a trough of beer and riding his motorcycle into the statue of Alexander Beldon in the town center. Naked.”
“Oh.”
The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was trying not to smile. “Didn’t the name Deputy Pfeiffer sound familiar to you?”
Deputy Pfeiffer. Deputy Fife. Of course it did, she just hadn’t made the connection. Suddenly, it seemed painfully obvious. Humiliation burned in her cheeks, made worse by the fact that she knew he could see it.
“You all right, Ms. Ross?” He stood up and made a show of ushering her into his chair. “You look a little flushed. Guess you’re not used to the heat down here.”
“I’m fine.” She shrugged her arm out of his warm grasp. “We have heat in New York.”
He gave her a long gaze, which made her wonder if it was an offense to snap at a police officer in this town. She wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of playing out her own Mayberry Midnight Express.
“Different kind of heat,” he said.
“Bring her back here so I can get a look at her,” Henry called from his jail cell. “She sounds real cute.”
“Oh, she is,” Dan drawled, looking her over so brazenly that she felt as if she’d been touched.
But she didn’t want to be touched, she reminded herself. She had a lot of troubles to deal with right now; she definitely didn’t need to add a man to the mix. She already knew she didn’t have good luck with men—there was no point in even trying.
Too bad her body didn’t agree with her mind on that. Every time she looked at Dan, her pulse quickened and her nerves sprang to life. Even now, the flush in her cheeks flamed so hot she thought her eyelashes might get singed.
“But she’s a pain in the ass,” he added.
Josie stood tall, hoping he didn’t notice her agitation. “This is hardly professional behavior, Officer.”
“No?”
“Certainly not.”
“Sweetheart, if I were to behave professionally, I’d have slapped the cuffs on you the minute I walked in and saw you going through my desk and stealing my keys in order to release a prisoner.” One side of his mouth curled into a smile. “That what you want?”
Suddenly, she had the distinct impression that those handcuffs had seen less criminal action than personal. Her face went hot again.
She swallowed hard. “No, thank you. And for your information, if I had gone back there and seen that man wasn’t in uniform, I would not have let him out.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Satisfied that she’d redeemed herself at least a little, she said, “I’d like to speak with your supervisor now, please.”
“What’s she look like, Danny?” Henry called from the back.
Josie and Dan exchanged glances, each challenging the other.
“She looks pissed,” Dan said.
“No, I mean, like, what color hair does she have?”
“’Bout the color of that dark lager you pickled yourself in the other night.” Judging by the way he looked at her, for a moment Josie thought he might reach out and touch her. “What do you call that color?” he asked, with the kind of cocky pirate smile that Josie sometimes, on the right person, found irresistible.
“Does your chief approve of you talking to people this way when they come in for help?”
“He approves of everything I do.”
The mental list she was making of his offenses was growing by the second. By the time she was finished talking with his boss, she wouldn’t be surprised—or sorry—if he was fired on the spot. “We’ll see about that. You do realize I’m here to see the chief, right? I assume he’s not locked in a cell or bound and gagged in a closet.”
“Nope. Around here, you can tell the police by the fact that they’re not locked up.”
“That seems to be the only distinction,” she said.
“Can you call him on your radio and get him here?”
“No need to do that, he’s here.”
She looked around toward the door, expecting to see a kindly gray-haired man who could save her from the unsavory scrutiny of Dan Duvall. Although if he was here, why on earth hadn’t he stepped in earlier? “Where?”
“Right here.” He splayed his arms wide and smiled even wider.
She felt it coming a split second before he said it.
“I’m the police chief.”
Josie’s stomach felt like a popped balloon. “Of course you are,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I’ve seen this movie before.”
Dan laughed. “You wanted to talk to me about something? The insubordination of one of my men, I believe?”
“That’s very funny. Who’s your boss, Chief?” She reached into her purse and took out her PalmPilot.
“I’d like the name, number and address, please.”
“That’d be the mayor. You can find him at City Hall.”
“Fine.”
“But I don’t think you’re gonna like him as much as you like me.”
“Meaning…?”
“I’m your best hope for satisfaction here.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “What the—”
“In the matter of your stolen property, that is.” He looked at her as if he couldn’t possibly have meant anything else. “Now, as I told you before, we’re doing all we can to get your suitcase back, but it might just take some time. You can come on into the station every day and file more reports, but all that’s gonna do is keep us from getting out to where we might find your things.”
“I don’t get the impression that you’re out looking for my things, anyway.” She put the idea of him satisfying her out of her mind as best she could.
“I don’t know what else you want me to do. Send an APB out to the state police? If someone stole your suitcase, they’ve probably either hidden it away in their room—in which case, we can’t search every room—or they’ve rifled through it and tossed it somewhere outside, in which case we’ll come across it any time now.”