Saving Scott (Kobo) (28 page)

Belinda
turned, and Ashley waved. Belinda waited while Ashley, carton balanced on her
hip, caught up.

“Need some
help?” Belinda asked.

“No, I’m
fine. That looked like a great sale. And carryout service, too.”

A faint
blush colored Belinda’s cheeks. “Gotta do what we can to keep our customers
satisfied.” Her eyes darted toward the parking lot exit before meeting Ashley’s.
“You must be getting excited.”

“My
butterflies have butterflies,” Ashley said. “But I think I’ve got everything
under control.” Until she thought of something else she’d forgotten. Her lists
and spreadsheets were great, but there was always the nagging doubt that there
was something she’d neglected to add. Tonight, the committee would go over
everything, and Ashley hoped that the extra heads would fill any possible holes
in her plans.

Back in her
shop, she unpacked the carton and lined everything on the counter. The coils of
bright blue and red raffle-style tickets. The stack of acknowledgement fliers
Elaine had printed. She would definitely owe the photographer, big time.

Staring at
the tasting plates, forks, and napkins brought reality one step closer. She ran
her fingertip along the counter as she strolled toward one of the easy chairs.
Sitting, she closed her eyes and tried to run through the bakeoff.

Supervising
the baking. She’d asked Holly, one of her new hires to come in and help make
sure everything ran smoothly. Storing the brownies. Contestants were required
to bring their own ingredients. Had she told them about storage? She thought
back. Yes. She’d provide the platters to ensure everything maintained its
anonymity. Judging. Her eyes popped open. Thank you gifts. She’d have to give
them something, and she had a feeling a platter of baked goods wasn’t going to
cut it. Certificates of appreciation? No, too common, and she certainly wasn’t
going to bother Elaine again.

Her first
thought was to get something from Belinda, but the judges were all professional
food people and they probably had enough kitchen stuff of their own. Instead,
she popped next door to That Special Something. Ashley waited until Sarah had
finished waiting on a customer before approaching the glass counter.

“I need
gifts for the judges, and my brain is fried. Can you help? I swear, whatever
you pick will be fine. But not food related. Something special.”

Sarah
grinned. “Something special? You’ve come to the right place.”

Ashley felt
the heat of a blush rising. “Duh. Yeah. But seriously. I totally trust you.
Three identical gifts, gift wrapped. No, wait. I have to enclose a card first.”

Sarah
squeezed Ashley’s hands. “Relax.” She reached under the counter and handed
Ashley three gift cards and a pen. “Fill these out, and leave the rest to me.”

Ashley took
a breath, waiting for her hands to stop trembling. She’d been calmer when she’d
been accused of murder. She gave Sarah a budget and started writing her thank
you notes. When she finished, she handed them to Sarah. Glancing around the
shop and seeing it was empty, Ashley lowered her voice. “Did Randy tell you
anything about the investigation? Do they have a suspect yet?”

Scott
ignored the rumbling in his stomach. Something buzzed around his brain, and he
didn’t want to stop for anything as intrusive as eating. After sorting the
records and receipts Detweiler had given him, he’d received a “My office”
summons from Chief Laughlin. The chief had informed him that with Detweiler’s
return, Scott was relegated to his official seven to three shift, no overtime,
and that as of tomorrow, he’d be back on phones and filing.

Unless
something else broke, the chief had said, but short of another murder, Scott
didn’t think it was likely. And he didn’t think another murder was likely,
either. The more he thought about it, the more he felt suicide was a likely
manner of death for their victim.

But, until
tomorrow, he was still a consultant. He’d spent the last hour checking, cross
checking, and rechecking all the hits he got for Belinda Nesbitt. She’d
admitted him to her network of Facebook friends, which according to her
settings, gave him access to her page, but to her friends’ pages as well.
Something was hiding in there, if only he could see it.

He stretched
and rubbed his temples. Okay, so maybe his brain cells would fire more
efficiently if he fed them. He clicked on another one of Belinda’s Facebook
friends and headed for the break room. Slowly. Damn, he’d been sitting too
long.

No homemade
goodies today. He perused the contents of the vending machine, settling for a
package of peanut butter crackers. A glance at the clock surprised him. Three-fifteen
already?

He logged
off the computer. What he was doing could be done at home.

What part
of “off the clock” don’t you understand?

But until he
silenced the buzzing in his head, he knew he wouldn’t be able to let it go. The
internal phone line rang, and without thinking about on or off the clock, he
picked up. “Whelan.”

“Scott, I
know you’re not working up front until tomorrow, but I could use a little help.”
Doranna’s voice was lowered, but he heard the unspoken “please.”

“On my way.”

When he got
there, Doranna gave him a relieved smile. “This citizen said you’d helped her
before.” She mouthed a “Sorry” and gestured to an elderly woman on the other
side of the glass. Scott recognized her as one of the three women who’d been in
the other day complaining about nuisance dogs.

Doranna
turned away from the glass and said, “I told her we’d put Animal Control on it,
but she insists on speaking to you.”

“Don’t worry
about it.” Scott opened the security door and motioned the woman to one of the
chairs. He remained standing. His leg was on fire, but sitting and having to
get up again would be worse. Besides, he figured a show of authority might
help.

“Officer
Whelan, thank you for speaking to me. That woman”—she frowned in Doranna’s
direction—”said you were off duty, so I really appreciate it.”

He’d given
up correcting her on calling him “Officer.” She was of an age where men were
cops and women were relegated to secretarial duties if they worked at all. “What
can I do to help, Mrs. Osterlund?”

She
straightened in her chair and tightened the grip on the black patent-leather
purse in her lap. “It’s the dogs again. They knocked over my trash can and
spread garbage all over the street. And they bark. All night. It’s a wonder
anyone on the block gets any sleep at all.”

“I’m sorry
this hasn’t been handled already,” he said. “I will personally call Animal
Control and have them check.”

She huffed. “The
dogs come out at night. Those Animal Control people aren’t working then.”

“Did you get
a better description of the dogs?” he asked. “If the dogs are strays, they’ll
be around during the day as well. But we have to know what to look for.”

She slumped
a little. “It’s dark, and I’m in bed at that hour. But they sounded big. You
know, deep barks, and growling, too. Not little yippy things.”

He gave her
what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I have all your information from your
other report. We’ll do our best. And if you happen to see the dogs, be sure to
call the station. You can tell them you spoke to me, and I’ll be sure to leave
a note for whoever else might be working.” He extended his hand. “Thanks for
coming in.”

She released
her grip on her purse and allowed him to help her rise. He escorted her to the
door and held it open.

She shook
back her gray curls. “With more police officers like you on the job, we’d all
sleep better at night.” With her head lifted, she marched across the bricks to
the staircase, her hand light on the handrail as she made her way down the
steps. Thoughts of his grandmother invaded, and he made a mental note to give
her a call tonight.

Inside,
Doranna winged her eyebrows at him. “You do know how to turn on the charm.”

He shrugged.
“Just a case of LOL syndrome.”

She tilted
her head quizzically.

“Lonely Old
Lady. But please make a note that she’s to be treated with respect if she calls
in. Do I need to get an official okay to dispatch a patrol officer if she says
the dogs are back?”

“I’ll run it
by the duty officer,” she said.

Scott
waited—unobtrusively, he hoped—long enough to see Doranna start filling out a
report form before leaving.

By the time
he got home, the momentum he’d built at the office had disintegrated. He took a
pain pill, nuked a slice of too-old pizza and made his way to the Fitness
Center. The room was empty, probably not unusual for this time of day. He’d
take thirty minutes in the Jacuzzi, and then he’d start anew. Knowing he was
likely to drift off, he set the alarm on his cell phone.

He clambered
into the tub. The hot water soothed his aches, and the whooshing of the jets
detangled his brain. Sometimes the best thoughts happened when you weren’t
thinking.

A shrill
tone jerked him out of a deep doze. He reached for his weapon before he
realized where he was. Heart pounding, he sucked air and fumbled for the cell
phone he’d left perched on the edge of the Jacuzzi. It slid toward the water.
Catching it millimeters before it hit the surface, Scott held it above the
bubbling water and waited until the world set itself right again.

He shut off
the alarm, placed the phone well away from the edge of the Jacuzzi and began
the laborious process of getting out. He’d learned early on during his therapy
sessions that too much time in the hot water left him light-headed, especially
if he’d taken his meds recently. He stood, and the dizziness passed. The heat
had helped with the pain, but his leg shook uncontrollably. Another damn
side-effect the doctors had told him was “normal.” Thankful there was still
nobody in the room, he took several minutes, rising slowly, making sure his
balance was intact, and finally, using the metal support bar, pulled himself
out of the water.

Back in his
apartment, he eyed the beer in the fridge, but went the sensible route and
drank several glasses of water. Then, wrapped in his robe, he stretched out on
the couch with his laptop propped on his belly while he waited for his lasagna
to heat. His thoughts strayed to Ashley. Should he call her? Apologize. For
what? Doing his job? She’d definitely been pissed when she’d left. He let it
go. She was probably overwhelmed with bakery work.

He stared at
the screen, randomly selecting sites that had come up when he’d Googled Belinda
Nesbitt. Tired of reading the same basic information, he clicked “Images” to
give his eyes a break and see if anything resonated. Rather than think about
the pictures, he half-closed his eyes and let his gaze wander from one image to
the next.

Scott agreed
with Detweiler that there was something Belinda wasn’t sharing, but he was
beginning to think it was a detour headed straight for a dead end.

His cell phone’s
ring interrupted his contemplations. He shifted his laptop and reached into his
robe pocket. “Whelan.”

“Up for
another body?” Detweiler’s words were casual. His tone was anything but.

***

Ashley stood
at the front of the meeting room at the Women’s Center and did a mental roll
call. “Where’s Elaine? And Lorna?”

“Elaine’s on
a photo shoot,” Maggie said, consulting a spiral notebook.

Ashley
recalled Elaine saying something about an event the day before the bakeoff, but
didn’t remember much else. “I wanted to thank her for the signs. They’re
fantastic.” Her throat still constricted at the thought.

“I thought
Lorna was out of here,” Penny said.

“She came by
the bakery and helped me set up yesterday, so she’s certainly put in her fair
share of work. She said her husband was out of town. She intended to leave
before he got back, but she didn’t want to run without a plan,” Ashley said.

“You think
he came back early and beat on her again? Maybe we should call the cops.” Penny
gave a pointed glance in Sarah’s direction.

“Speaking of
cops.” Kathleen fingered her pearls. “Did anyone else get a second visit today?
Seems like Felicity’s healthy, organic food wasn’t everything she claimed.”

Murmurs
rippled through the room, and heads nodded.

“It’s
routine,” Sarah said. “Every time they find another piece of evidence, they
have to go back and fill in the blanks.”

Maggie
stepped to Ashley’s side. “Let’s get the business part of the meeting done
before we do any more blind speculation, shall we?”

Penny pulled
three large clasp envelopes from the bulging tote under her chair. “I know
Elaine made those wonderful, professional signs.” The way Penny said “professional”
said she’d been miffed that her students’ work might not be good enough. “But,
my classes did a mixed media assignment today, with ‘Fantasy in Chocolate’ as
the theme. I thought they might make good decorations for the big night.” She
handed them to Ashley.

Ashley
peeked in one of the envelopes and saw a collage of chocolate confections. “I
know they’ll be great. Thank you—and your students for me.”

Ashley went
down her list. “The judges will be at Sarah’s shop until the last minute.”

“Criteria?”
Maggie asked. “You know, like on the cooking shows?”

Ashley’s
stomach lurched. “I hadn’t thought of that. Taste, for sure.”

“Appearance,”
Kathleen said.

“What about
creativity? Don’t they use that one on the cooking shows?” Penny said.

“That’s
perfect,” Ashley said. “I suppose we’ll need score sheets. And a scoring
system.” She dragged her hands through her hair. Why hadn’t she thought of this
before?

“Since you’ve
got so many entries, I think each category should be ranked from one to ten,”
Maggie said. “Less chance of ties.”