“––but I’ve got bigger problems right now.” Smoothing the paper out on the table, I read out loud, “Learn how to operate the bar. Why the hell would I want to know how to operate a bar? Explain that one to me. I’m actually shocked he didn’t ask me to catch a falling star, or I dunno, chase a rainbow. It would imply drugs had something to do with this, which would at least make sense.”
I shake the paper in frustration. Bebe shrugs, stuffing another French fry in her mouth.
“Watch Annabelle teach a lesson,” I continue reading out loud. “Spread my ashes at the lake. With Noah is the stipulation.”
The mere thought of spending time in close proximity to Noah kills what little appetite I had left.
“What are you going to do?”
With a heavy sigh, I turn to look out the window. There’s no getting out of this. “I’ll do it for Rowdy. I’ll go to the lake to spread Grandpa’s ashes with that adulterer and then I’ll go back to London––to my life––and have my lawyer sort out the rest. I’m not going to be strong-armed by a dead man into staying here a minute longer than absolutely necessary.”
“Wow, you’re not all still bitter about what happened. You know what they say about love and hate.”
“I don’t hate him.” Bebe gives me a long look. “I don’t,” I insist. “He’s Brussels sprouts to me. I don’t hate Brussels sprouts. I don’t remember they exist most of the time. However, just because I don’t hate them doesn’t mean I want them anywhere near me.”
“He smells like farts?”
“What? Who?”
“Noah. Does he smell like farts? Because Brussels sprouts are rank. They smell like farts.”
“That’s not…stop. Or I’ll be forced to punch you.” I massage my temples where an intense throb now resides.
Bebe’s head snaps to the left. “Ugh, here comes Kindergarten Cop.”
She directs a narrow-eyed scowl over my shoulder and strokes her ponytail in a way that tells me she’s plotting someone’s demise. It’s the same look she used to get right before an important match.
“Who?”
“The PoPo. The new chief of police,” she says tight-lipped.
“The PoPo?” I turn in my seat, to check out the poor soul on the receiving end of her glare and immediately get the reference.
Standing at the entrance of the diner, surveying the breakfast crowd, the new chief of police, despite not being particularly tall, is built like a prized bull. His biceps alone would make anyone with a lick of sense second-guess whether they want to tangle with him.
He removes his Stetson and runs a hand over his short dark hair lightly threaded with silver.
“Shit––he’s coming this way. Quick hide.” Hunching down in her seat, she fiddles with her placemat and utensils.
Yeah, I’m not hiding.
The chief makes a beeline for us, even as a few patrons make an effort to catch his attention. Aviator glasses shielding his eyes, chiseled good looks and a deep suntan. He walks up to our table looking like he stepped out of an ’80s testosterone-fueled movie.
Annabelle straightens all at once. “Chief Asshat, how’s it hangin’?”
Coffee comes flying out of my mouth and nose, and while I sputter and cough, Annabelle smiles like a loon. More than a few heads turn in our direction.
In contrast, the chief’s expression is carved out of granite, a very subtle tic of his closely shaven cheek the only sign of life.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Bebe continues.
I glare at her, begging her to stop with my eyes as I clumsily try to mop up the mess I made.
“Busting up the underground bingo ring at the senior rec center? Arresting a bunch of teenagers for trafficking high-energy drinks?” Her eyes slide up and down his body. “Working a bachelorette party? Mare, you got any singles?”
I catch more than a few disapproving stares.
“Annabelle,” I grind out. My sister has always had an attitude problem. This, however, is over the top––even for her.
The chief’s attention smoothly slides to me. I muster a stiff, half smile in return. “Ha ha, umm, yeah, please excuse my sister. Crazy runs in the family.”
He gives me a curt tip of his head. “Axel Brandt, new chief of police. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“Maren Murphy. Nice to meet you too, Chief.”
“Lemme know if the department can be of assistance while you’re in town.”
“Thank you, but I won’t be here long.”
Bebe frowns.
The chief’s attention returns to my sister. A heavy beat of silence drops. I can feel the oppressive weight of his stare and I’m not even the object of his intense interest.
“Saw you on Route 10 yesterday.” His voice is quiet, the kind of quiet that carries indisputable force. Bebe’s face, a face that is never at rest, goes unnaturally still. “You’re supposed to be setting an example in this community for the young lives in your care…you speed like that again and I’ll arrest you for reckless drivin’.”