Troublemaker Read online

  Mayor Buddy came and patted her hand. “Quite a bit of excitement,” he said kindly as he pulled a chair around and sat down beside her, his pleasantly homely face caught in an expression halfway between concern and laughter.

  Bo roused herself to reconnect. “I want to apologize for my language,” she said because she’d heard the phrase “tear your fucking head off” several times during the past half hour or so. The deputies had gotten a kick out of it, but she didn’t know how the town elders would feel. No one would care if she cussed like a sailor in private, but public perception was a different animal.

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It makes such a good story most everyone in town will likely tell it themselves. The few that get puckered up about it will be outnumbered. I swear to you, I never thought this kind of thing would be in your job description.”

  “I didn’t either.” She’d thought it was administrative, all the way. And it would have been; jumping in had been her choice, no one had told her to do it.

  “Kyle’s daddy will likely kick up a fuss.”

  “I know.” Warren Gooding owned a couple of prosperous sawmills in the area, which meant he employed some of the townspeople, and he liked to throw his weight around because of it. He’d always stepped in whenever his kids did anything wrong, blaming everything on someone else, so she expected him to follow pattern. Still, he didn’t live within the town limits, so he couldn’t even vote in elections, and considering the circumstances, she thought he’d concentrate his efforts on finding Kyle a good lawyer and maybe trying to get the prosecutor not to press charges.

  If it were left up to her, she’d let bygones be bygones; she wasn’t really hurt and neither was Jesse. Hitting Emily, to her, was the big deal, but whether or not Emily pressed charges was up to her. But there would be charges because no one wanted people to get the idea they could get away with resisting arrest and assaulting officers of the law. This whole thing was going to get very messy before it was over; Miss Doris was beloved in the town and the Goodings weren’t, but the Goodings were influential, strident, and persistent.

  She caught a glimpse of the big school clock on the wall behind the counter, and saw that almost an hour had elapsed. Aghast at her own negligence she said, “Tricks!” and surged to her feet. As cold as the day was, she knew overheating wasn’t a problem, but it was definitely time to get her out of the Jeep.

  “Where is she?” That was one of the county deputies; she thought his name was Mayhew, or Mayfield, something like that. It didn’t surprise her that he knew who Tricks was.

  “In the Jeep,” she said as she started to the door.

  “You stay here, maybe drink some tea and get settled. I’ll get her.”

  “Tea!” said Miss Doris, her eyes lighting. “That’s a good idea. All three of you need something to drink.” She dashed behind the counter and went to work.

  Bo watched as the deputy crossed the street and opened the passenger door of the Jeep, then released Tricks from her harness. He wasn’t fast enough to catch her leash, though. Tricks jumped down and immediately trotted to the curb, her expression a little anxious as she searched for Bo. As always, she stopped at the curb and looked both right and left, a trick that delighted all the kids in town whenever they saw her do it, then she dashed across the street, leash trailing, and came straight to the door of the bakery, with the deputy in hot pursuit as he made repeated grabs for her leash.

  Ignoring any health department regulations about animals in a food establishment, another deputy opened the door and let Tricks in. She darted to Bo, her whole body wagging with joy at being reunited. Bo received a thorough sniffing from her feet up, then a lick on the hand, then she was abandoned because the smells of food captured Tricks’s interest. Tricks made a beeline for the display cases and stood in front of them, her tail swishing back and forth as she seemed to peruse the baked goods.

  “I’m going to take her out back,” Bo said to no one in particular and took Tricks out the door and around the side of the bakery to the patch of grass behind the building.

  The brief period of solitude felt like an escape. She stood in the cold air, watching Tricks nose around and choose the optimal spot to pee, and relished the quiet and aloneness. She wasn’t a recluse by any means, but the whole slightly farcical situation was too chaotic and intense for her to quite get a handle on it. She needed time to regroup, just a little, to settle herself down.

  When she and Tricks went back inside, Miss Doris was waiting with a cup of hot, sweet tea. Emily and Jesse also held cups, though Jesse looked a bit self-conscious at holding the dainty teacup. He’d probably have preferred coffee, but Miss Doris thought he needed tea, so he’d drink the tea and thank her for it.

  Things began winding down. Statements were taken from all involved, the medics pronounced her good to go but with the warning that she should get a friend to stay with her overnight, just in case there were any delayed symptoms.

  Despite Miss Doris’s rejuvenating tea—which had indeed helped settle the jittery feeling—Bo felt tired and drained. She’d had no idea brawling was such hard work. She was able to make her escape and go to the police station, where she could do normal things such as feed Tricks, give her some water, then kneel on the floor and bury her face in the dog’s plush golden fur as she hugged her and apologized for letting her stay in the Jeep for so long. Tricks didn’t care; she was happy to be hugged and doted on, regardless of the reason.

  She didn’t have the police station to herself, of course; the dispatcher, Loretta Hobson, had to get the lowdown on what had happened, the phone rang, both off-duty officers came in just to check on things, Daina heard about what had happened and called to see if she was okay, a couple of the town’s nosy old men came by on trumped-up excuses so they could see what was what and make a report at the daily gathering of the Liar’s Club at the diner, where they sat and drank coffee and chewed the fat for hours at a time.

  All of that felt somewhat normal, though she began to realize she’d never live down the tale.

  Dutifully Bo made herself sit down and start on the never-ending paperwork generated by even a small-town police force. That was her job, after all. She’d been at it for maybe half an hour when Jesse came in and dropped into the visitor’s chair in front of her desk.

  “Sorry about that,” he said gruffly. He looked chagrined that she’d been involved in a violent situation. Jesse loved being a cop, had never wanted to be anything else, but he despised paperwork and administration to an intense degree. It had been his idea to hire her as police chief to handle the administrative side while he handled the enforcement part of it, so he was feeling guilty that she’d been hurt, however slightly.

  She shrugged and felt the soreness in her right shoulder. “No one made me jump in, I just did it. I’m okay.”

  “I let him take me by surprise. I know how domestics can blow up on you, and I let my guard down anyway.” His cheekbones flushed with color. Failing to meet his own standards as a cop would eat at him, and he’d make sure he never made that mistake again. He looked like such a Boy Scout with his short dark-blond hair, blue eyes, and square jaw that if someone didn’t know him, it was easy to underestimate his dedication to the job. “Are you really okay? I know the medics told you to have someone stay with you tonight.”

  With an inner start, Bo remembered her houseguest. His presence would be convenient tonight, and though she didn’t think there was any need, neither would she take any chances with her health.

  “Someone is staying with me,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “An old friend. He showed up unexpectedly yesterday afternoon.”

  “He?”

  “Morgan Rees. He’s in bad shape and needed a place to stay.”

  Pure cop flowed over Jesse, hardening his gaze as he considered what “bad shape” could mean, and the reasons behind it, such as drug addiction. “Bad shape how?”

  “He’s had open-heart surgery, then pneumo