Flood Zone. Dana Mentink
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police chief could help ferret out the truth, though he’d not been able to grant her an audience until the following day. Dallas had advised her to bypass Stiving, and she’d agreed. It was best to talk to the chief. For now, the picture was tucked safely in an envelope in the back of the top desk drawer.
The doorbell rang.
Tina stepped inside, chewing madly on a piece of pink gum with a stack of books under her arm to be perused during Gracie’s nap time. Mia greeted her warmly. The stick-thin college sophomore babysat for Mia during the day and took community classes at night. Since Mia’s nursing school was off due to a semester break, she’d been logging as many hours at Dr. Elias’s clinic as she could and Tina had been invaluable. The two exchanged a quiet talk about Cora’s death, news of which had already spread all over the quiet mountain community.
“Have you told her yet?” Tina asked, discarding her gum into a wrapper and snatching a leftover piece of toast.
“No.” Mia sighed, eyes misting. “I haven’t had the courage.”
Tina gave her a hug which almost loosed the flood gates of emotion until Mia stepped back. “I’m glad you could come today. I’ve got to find another job.”
“Yeah? What happened to the gig at the clinic?”
“I was...let go last night.”
Tina swallowed the last bit of toast. “Oh, bummer. What are you going to do now?”
“Go into town and beat the bushes if I have to. Anything to make the rent.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Mia nodded. “There’s got to be somebody looking for a hard-working gal like me.”
“We are women, hear us roar,” Tina cried, pumping a fist. “Go get ’em!”
Wishing she could share some of Tina’s enthusiasm, she grabbed her bag. After they’d made arrangements for Tina to deliver Gracie to Mia in the late afternoon, she headed for the car.
“Time to hit it,” she murmured to herself. “Hear me roar.”
Fearing that her roar was more like a pitiful mew at the moment, she headed to town.
* * *
After a full day of walking the main streets of Spanish Canyon, Mia had nothing to show for it but sore feet and a rumbling belly. She’d already gobbled her peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich, and at a little past three, her stomach was demanding attention, as it seemed to do no matter what diet she was doing her best to adhere to. Besides, a sign on Sam’s Sammies advertised for “help wanted.”
I’m a master of the peanut butter and fluff, she reminded herself as she entered and introduced herself to the owner.
Sam Shepherd, a massive man with sprigs of white hair sprouting from the top of his head met her inquiry with enthusiasm. “Sure thing. Why don’t you fill out an application?” He pushed over a greasy piece of paper affixed to a clipboard. “Say, I was sure sorry to hear about Cora.”
She nodded. “Me, too.”
“You know her well?”
Mia only managed a quick yes.
He raised a bristly eyebrow. “Heard talk that it wasn’t an accident.”
She hadn’t noticed Detective Stiving sitting in the corner booth until he spoke up. “Looking more and more like that’s the case,” he said.
A moment later, Dallas strolled in, surveying the group with quiet amusement and causing Mia to wonder about the timing.
“Well, Sam, seems like business is picking up,” Dallas said.
Stiving chewed a pickle spear. “What do you want?”
Dallas arched an eyebrow. “A sandwich. Isn’t that why you’re here?” He smiled at Sam. “The usual, my good man.”
“Vegetarian with extra mustard and no eggplant, heavy on the jalapenos,” Sam rattled off.
Dallas slouched into a chair, long legs extended. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Mia felt the twin pangs of affection and irritation at seeing Dallas there. She wanted the man out of her life, yet why did something inside her warm up whenever he appeared? Was he keeping tabs on her? The thought both infuriated and tantalized her.
Focus, would you? “I’ll just fill this out,” she said to Sam, making her way to a chair well away from Dallas.
Stiving followed her. “You might not want to take a new job, just yet.”
Something about the gleam in his eye worried her. “Why?”
“Because it seems you’re an heiress.”
She blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“Just got word that Cora left her house and property to you. Of course, the house is pretty messed up, but the twenty acres of property, well that’s worth a nice tidy sum, I’ll bet.”
Mia realized her mouth was hanging open. “Cora left her property to me?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“Of course it does. I had no idea.”
“That right?” He wiped his thick fingers on a paper napkin. Graying chest hair puffed out at the top of his uniform shirt. “No idea at all?”
“None. What are you implying?”
“Cops, you know, look at these things called motives. Inheriting a nice chunk of land is motive.”
“For what?” Mia managed to squeak out.
“For murder,” he said with a smile.
* * *
Dallas moved closer when it seemed as though Mia was unable to marshal a response. “What do you have that points in that direction?”
Stiving leveled a derisive look at him. “Not that it’s your business, but the coroner’s initial take is that Cora didn’t die from the fire.”
Mia let out a little cry, her face gone deadly pale.
Dallas tensed. “Cause?”
Stiving stretched against the upholstered booth. “That’s as much as I’m going to say right now. You all have a great day. I’ll be in touch. Soon.”
He left. Dallas realized that Sam had been standing just behind them holding a sandwich on a plastic plate. “Uh, well, I’m real sorry and all that, Mia, but maybe Stiving is right. With everything going on, it doesn’t seem like a good time to have you start working here.”
He shoved the plate at Dallas and waddled back to the kitchen.
Dallas dropped money on the counter, no tip, and left the sandwich on the table. By the time he’d finished, Mia had made her way outside, sinking onto a brick planter, oblivious to Juno, who had been watching through the window the whole time, swabbing an eager tongue over her hand.
Dallas sat next to her. Dark clouds overhead promised more rain and dulled the soft brown of her eyes. Or maybe it was the shock that did it. What to say to comfort her in the present situation eluded him, so he went with his gut.
“They don’t have any proof. He’s trying to rattle you.”
The words seemed to startle her. “He thinks she was poisoned with the pills I got for her.”
“Speculation and proof are two different things.”
“Juno knew there was something in those pills.”
“Doesn’t mean you put it there.”
She pressed shaking hands to her mouth. “I can’t believe it. He wants to put me in jail. I can’t go to jail, Dallas.”
Her