Authors: Earlene Fowler
As the guard told his version I went over to the maintenance closet and pulled out a broom and dustpan and started sweeping up the glass.
“Need any help?” the female officer asked. Her name badge said B. Girard. I idly wondered what the
B
stood for—Beatrice, Barbara, Bertha?
“No, thanks, Officer Girard.” I dumped the glass into the trash can.
She watched me silently for a moment, then asked, “You’re the chief’s wife, aren’t you?”
I looked up at her and smiled slightly. “Guilty as charged.”
“This is kinda awkward,” she said, shifting from one foot to the other. In the quiet, the leather of her black gun belt squeaked like a new saddle.
“Not really,” I said. “Just treat me like you would anyone else. Make your report and go on with your watch. No one was hurt. It was probably just a kid screwing around.”
She looked at me doubtfully.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m going home right after this and I’ll tell the chief myself. Don’t treat me different, Officer. Really, this is no big deal.”
“Want us to stick around while you lock up?” she asked, still not convinced that something special shouldn’t be done.
“That would be great,” I said. “I’m all right, but I think the security guard might be a bit skittish.” We glanced over at him talking rapidly to the male officer, his face flushed in agitation as he pointed and explained. The macho police officer looked as if he were listening to a mosquito buzz.
“Men,” she said, shaking her head.
“Enough said,” I agreed, and laughed.
She gave me a curious look. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Absolutely,” I said. She followed me into the wood shop, where I found a square piece of plywood, a hammer, and some nails, and fashioned a serviceable covering for the broken window.
The male officer came over when I’d pounded the last nail in place and inspected my work. “Looks like we got all we need for our report here.” He turned and asked me, “Why didn’t you tell me you were the chief’s wife?” He made an unsuccessful attempt to keep the irritation off his face.
I put on my most innocent expression. “Is that relevant? Would you have come quicker if you’d known my identity? I’m assuming that all the citizens of San Celina get the same high-quality police protection. At least, that’s what my husband assures the city council and the mayor.” I smiled sweetly at him. Behind him, B. Girard grinned and gave me the thumbs-up.
“Uh, yeah, sure we do,” he said, snapping his holster shut. “You sure there isn’t anything else you saw?”
“I’m sure.”
“So, you ready to lock up now?”
“I just need to hang this quilt in the museum and I’ll be through.” I turned to the security guard and said, “Would you help me with this?”
In the main exhibit room, he helped me clip the wooden hanger onto the top of the quilt and hang it in place. I stood back, making sure it was even, and then asked in a low voice, “Did you tell them about the note?”
He shook his head no.
“Good, just forget you saw it. I’ll take care of it.” I used my most authoritative tone.
He nodded, his face sober and slightly green.
“You said this was your first job with the security company?” I asked, feeling sorry for him.
He nodded again, looking as if he were ready to burst into tears.
“I’m going to tell your boss how well you handled everything. Calling 911 before you checked on things was smart. You did the right thing.”
“Thanks,” he said, his cheeks starting to return to a more normal color.
“Are you going to be all right for the rest of the night?”
He blinked rapidly and held the front door open for me. “No problem.” He started for his truck. “I’d better report to the dispatcher.”
The two officers were still outside, sitting in their blue-and-white patrol car. Officer Girard was on the passenger side filling out paperwork while Officer Lowry checked his hair in the rearview mirror.
“I’m leaving now,” I called to the officers. “Thanks.” Officer Girard looked up from her writing and gave me a half smile.
“You be careful now,” she said.
“You bet,” I replied.
It was past ten o’clock when I got home. Gabe was waiting for me on the front porch, his arms crossed. Apparently the officers weren’t taking any chances on getting in trouble and had immediately reported the incident to their watch commander.
“Ten minutes,” I said, walking up the steps. “That must be a record, even in this town.”
“What happened?” he said, his voice just this side of spittin’-fire angry.
“Excuse me, but I thought we’d come to a mutual agreement about you talking to me like I’m your wife and not a marine recruit.”
He unfolded his arms and tried again in a slightly less accusatory tone. “Are you okay?”
“The answer to that is obvious, seeing as I’m standing right in front of you. Next question?”
“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded, then taking a deep breath, added, “Sweetheart.”
“I figured it would be just as easy to come home and tell you.”
“Were you going to tell me?”
“Of course I was.” I looked up at him and smiled. “Have I ever kept anything from you?”
“Benni, this isn’t something to joke about. You could have been hurt.”
“What did those officers tell you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice airy. He was right, but I didn’t want to think about that until I was safely inside with the door locked. “It was just a rock that some kid tossed through a lighted window. It startled me. That’s all.”
His blue eyes never blinked. A cricket chirped in a front bush.
I stood on tiptoe and kissed his unyielding lips lightly. “Everything’s fine. It was a simple case of vandalism. Don’t blow it all out of proportion.”
“Was it?” His voice was sarcastic in the dark. “Somehow with you, things are never a simple case of anything.” He took my chin and lifted it, looking intently into my face. “No more games. What did the note say?”
I jerked away. “That bigmouthed security guard—”
“The security guard knew about it?”
I looked up at him guiltily. “Uh, didn’t he tell you?”
“No. Officer Girard did.”
“What?” Well, so much for sisterhood. “But I didn’t tell her—”
“She was my first pick from the academy,” Gabe said smugly. “Her powers of observation were legendary, but what I especially liked about her was her understanding of the importance of following procedure and respect for the chain of command.”
“How—”
He smiled at me, enjoying his moment of triumph. “She watched you sweep up the broken glass. There was a rubber band mixed in with it. She said she guessed by the way you were acting that you knew more than you were saying and that perhaps something was attached to the rock.” He held out his hand. “Hand it over, Ms. Harper.”
I gave him a dirty look.
“When are you going to learn not to try to pull things over on me?” Gabe said, his voice dramatically weary. “I
always
find out.”
“Arrogance is such an obnoxious trait.”
He leaned down and kissed me. “There are times when my arrogance melts you.”
“Trust me, Friday, this isn’t one of them.”
“The note, please.”
I pulled it out of my back pocket and handed it to him. His expression turned cold.
“Who have you been talking to?”
“No one!”
He held up the note and wiggled it.
“I swear, I’ve hardly talked to anyone about Nora’s death. I’ve done practically everything but wear a sandwich sign saying ‘I don’t know anything about this case.’ I’ve maybe said a few things in passing to people, but honestly, I haven’t gone out of my way to investigate this.”
He looked at me silently for a moment, contemplating and processing the information I’d just given him. “You’re telling the truth,” he concluded.
I moaned in exasperation. “Of course I am. I hid the note because I just didn’t want everyone to know about it. It would’ve somehow gotten in the papers, and that would give the person who did it even more power. I was going to show it to you, really I was.”
He gave me a dubious look and looked down at the small piece of paper, rubbing his thumb across it. “You know, this time you might be right. If what you say is true—”
I growled deep in my throat.
“Okay, okay, sorry. As I was saying, since you haven’t really been asking questions about Nora’s death, this might be intended for me.”
“You?”
“What better way to divert my attention from investigating the Cooper homicide than giving me something more important to worry about—the safety of my wife.”
“It sounds like something one of the storytellers might say, don’t you think?”
He read the note again. “It’s from
The New England Primer
. But it’s been changed. The actual quote is, ‘Our days begin with trouble here, Our life is but a span, And cruel death is always near, so frail a thing a man.’ ”
“How do you know that?” I said.
He smiled slightly. “My mother’s a teacher, remember? She made us memorize poetry. It’s from the same book as ‘Now I lay me down to sleep. . . . ’ ”
“That was the first prayer I ever learned.”
He peeked out into the dark street, his face sober. “Let’s go inside.”
“You two done squabbling?” Dove said from her place on the couch.
“We weren’t fighting,” I said.
“And my peas are coming up purple this year,” she said.
“We’ll finish our discussion later,
querida,
” Gabe said, kissing the top of my head. “
Buenas noches, abuelita,
” he called to Dove.
“Good night, sweetie,” she said.
I flopped down next to her on the couch. “Speaking of fights, how’s the Battle of the Bible Verses doing? Who’s ahead, the Bruins or the Razorbacks?”
“Hmmph,” she said, sitting back. “You know what she did today? She called me an old woman. Said an old woman like me shouldn’t be wearing pigtails.” Dove grabbed her long white braid and shook it at me. “Does this look like pigtails to you? And who’s that old woman calling an old woman?”
“Has she heard anything from Uncle W.W.?” I asked, knowing Dove’s questions were purely rhetorical.
“No, and I think the woman has gone completely batty. You know, he was the only thing all these years that kept her from going over the edge. Ben called today and said she’s rearranged all the living-room furniture. Twice. He’s afraid to get up and pee at night, fearing he’ll break his neck ’cause she’s changed the coffee table while he was sleeping.”
“And you’re letting her get away with it?” I asked. “In
your
house? Boy, I sure wouldn’t if she were my sister.”
She gave me a dark, raptorlike look.
Whoops, overkill,
I thought as I tried to smile innocently.
“Some things are more important than material possessions,” she said disdainfully. “I told you, I’m not going home until she apologizes. Now, get on to bed and finish your fight with your husband. I’ve got work to do.” She looked back down at her Bible. “I’m looking up the verses havin’ to do with pride. There’s more than a few that will apply to you-know-who.”
“Yeah, I sure do,” I said under my breath.
“You know, young lady,” she said, not looking up, “you harangue that boy way too much. If you keep givin’ him so much grief, someday he’s likely to think you aren’t worth it.”
I walked toward the bedroom, thinking,
Nyah, nyah, nyah. Some advice from the haranguing queen herself
.
“Don’t you make light of me, Albenia Louise Harper,” she said. “The Lord can hear your thoughts.”
I turned and looked at her, incredulous. Apparently He wasn’t the only one.
She narrowed one eye at me. “Get on with you now. Breakfast is at seven sharp. You’re going to need a good one tomorrow. I’m making chocolate-cinnamon pancakes and Louisiana hot sausage.”
My favorite breakfast. Geez, how can you love someone to pieces and still want to throttle her?
Easy,
I thought when I walked into the bedroom and saw Gabe sitting in bed waiting for me.
I undressed and crawled next to him.
“What’s the news from the battlefront?” he asked.
“It appears to be a standoff, though I think the Razorback has got the Bruin on the run. Possession is still nine tenths of the law, right? And right now Aunt Garnet has captured Dove’s home. I don’t think that’s quite sunk in yet to Dove. Once it does, I don’t want to be around.”
“I’ll just be glad when our house is back to being
our
house.”
I snuggled next to him. “So, what now, Chief Ortiz?”
“What do you mean?”
“The note. What should I do?”
“Nothing. I’m going to beef up security for the festival. Just promise me you will absolutely stay away from discussing this with anyone.”
I thought about my talk with Grace tonight. “That’s not as easy as it seems.”
“Benni—” His voice was reproving.
I sat up and shook my fist at him. “Gabe.” I mocked his tone. “I can’t help what people tell me. I repeat, I have not asked any questions. But people do tell me things. They assume I know more than I do because I’m your wife. What am I supposed to do about that?”
He didn’t answer, but pulled off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. I leaned over and ran my hand across his bare chest. “Don’t worry,
papacito,
” I said. “I’m going to be fine. You’re overreacting.”
He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me. “I’d never forgive myself if you were ever hurt because of my job.” He rubbed his lips across the top of my head. I felt my hair catch in his mustache.
“I won’t,” I said firmly. “You’ll find who did this. I have complete confidence in you.”
He sighed. “I’m glad somebody does.”
“The city council hassling you again?”
“The city council, the city manager, the mayor, citizen’s groups, the newspapers. So many people are roasting me right now, I feel like one of your dad’s steers on the Fourth of July.”
“Is that why you’re trying to pin it on Roy Hudson?” The minute the words were out, I knew they hadn’t sounded the way I’d intended.
“What?” He loosened his hold. “Who told you that?”