Troublemaker (11 page)

By the time she was finished delivering and checking, he'd made his slow way to the bathroom. He moved carefully and he had his left arm kind of braced over his chest, but he'd made it and didn't look as if he'd die any moment.

“Just yell if you're too worn out to make it back to the sofa.” She kept her tone brisk and matter-of-fact. “I'll be eating my oatmeal.”

“Thanks, but I'm good,” he said, and she figured he'd rather punch himself in the face than ask for help again.

She sat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, eating her nuked oatmeal and sliced banana, but mostly sucking in another cup of coffee and listening to the sound of the shower. After a while the shower cut off, then another running water sound took its place; he was standing at the lavatory, shaving.

Bo had finished, rinsed her bowl and spoon and put them in the dishwasher, and was thinking about a third cup of coffee when he left the bathroom. Steam and dampness spilled out of the open door, though he'd had the ventilation fan running. His dark hair was wet and looked as if he'd combed it by running his fingers through it, but he was freshly shaved, and his expression drawn as if the exertion had sapped him. Both sweatpants and tee shirt hung on him. He slowly made his way back to the sofa and eased down.

“Do you want another cup of coffee?” she asked.

“No, thank you. Two was plenty.”

Two was probably the limit of what he needed to drink, too, considering what an effort it was to get to the bathroom and back. That didn't need saying, though. She collected his cup and dealt with it, then said, “All right, I need to get moving. I'm going to town to stock up on groceries, then I have to be back in town by noon. Will you be all right here by yourself?”

He glanced up at her and the same thought shimmered between them: He had to be. He didn't have a choice. “I'll be fine.” Then he glanced at Tricks, who was being good and playing with her stuffed animals. “What about Princess?”

Bo's mouth curved with amusement as she realized she'd never told him Tricks's name. “Her name is Tricks. T-R-I-C-K-S.”

“I thought it was Princess. That's what you called her yesterday.”

“Princess is her title, but her name is Tricks. Besides, I call her a lot of things. For the first year of her life she thought her name was No No You Little Shit.”

His eyes lit, and something remarkable happened. Mr. Stoic tilted back his head and laughed.

B
O MADE A MAD DASH TO TOWN AND SUPERMARKET
with Tricks riding shotgun. She was uneasy about leaving a stranger alone in her house though, really, what was he going to do? Go through her kitchen cabinets? He might crawl up the stairs but he sure couldn't climb them, and there was nothing more interesting there than her underwear drawer if he got his jollies that way. She doubted he'd make the effort, though, even if he were capable of it. He hadn't even wanted the TV on. She suspected he'd gone back to sleep as soon as they left.

The thin layer of snow was already melting and the roads were in good shape. She left Tricks in the Jeep, with the windows down a little for some cold fresh air, and made a record-breaking trip through the supermarket.

First, because it was most important, she restocked on food and treats for Tricks. Then she backtracked to the front of the store and began loading up on fresh fruit and some veggies, though fresh vegetables generally needed some sort of cooking and she didn't do much of that, but maybe she'd throw together a loaded salad, or something. She got frozen pizzas, he-man milk, bacon and eggs, canned biscuits, frozen pancakes and waffles, anything she could think of that was fast, easy, and something a guy might eat. Pancake syrup. The makings for hamburgers. Chips and salsa. Cheese, cheese, and more cheese. Olives? Did
men eat olives? But olives reminded her of Italian food, so she got some frozen lasagna and the makings for spaghetti, which called for garlic bread. My God, feeding the man was likely to eat up everything Axel was paying her!

She didn't take the time to edit her selections or plan any meal in particular because she was in a hurry. When she was checking out, the tiny white-haired cashier, Miss Virginia Rose—a retired schoolteacher who hadn't taken well to retirement so she'd gotten a job at the supermarket where she could keep tabs on the whole damn town—raised her eyebrows at the mountain of food Bo loaded onto the conveyor belt. “Goodness, I've never seen you buy so much food.”

Miss Virginia wouldn't directly ask, but she would certainly set the table for confession.

Bo was happy to oblige. The best way to avoid the appearance of guilt was to be up front with as many details as possible. “An old friend is staying with me for a while. Can you say ‘junk-food junkie'?” She pushed two packs of Oreos forward, one regular and the other golden so he'd have a choice. She might snag one or two of them herself.

Miss Virginia might have wanted Bo to enlarge on the old friend, but she was in a hurry and resisted. News would get around town soon enough. She couldn't hide him, didn't intend to try. If people thought there was a mystery, they'd start trying to solve it, and nothing good would come of that.

She paid cash for the mountain of food, her normal procedure these days. Once she'd have swiped a card without thinking, but when she'd hit her limit on multiple cards while she was renovating the barn, she'd had to learn different habits. The grand total on the bill made her wince, which reminded her she needed to check her bank balance some time today to make certain Axel had deposited the promised funds. What time did banks credit electronic transfers, anyway? Her inquiring mind really wanted to know.

She loaded the groceries into the back of the Jeep. Tricks had been perfectly content watching people come and go, though Bo received a welcome lick when she slid behind the wheel. She scratched behind
Tricks's ears and said, “Let's go, sweetie. I want time to take you for a nice long walk before we head to the station.”

Her tire tracks when she'd left were the only ones on the snowy driveway, meaning her guest hadn't changed his mind and driven away during the not-quite hour and a half she'd been gone. The Tahoe was still in the same place, its windshield still covered with snow. There were no tracks leading from the house to the SUV, so he hadn't even gone outside.

She let Tricks out of the Jeep and watched as she dashed around, smelling things, peeing, and smelling more things. She let the dog nose around while she got one bag of groceries out of the back and unlocked the door to take them in.

Morgan was asleep, one leg stretched out and his right foot on the floor. His left arm was curled across his chest, his right arm dangled. The blanket was kind of over him, but mostly not. If the noise of her entry hadn't wakened him, she saw no reason why he shouldn't continue sleeping. His body needed the rest.

Hurriedly she brought in the rest of the groceries, put them away, then grabbed Tricks's tennis ball and headed out for their walk. By the time they returned, she had just forty minutes before she was supposed to be at the station.

She hesitated, glancing at the sleeping man. Let him sleep, or wake him up for a quick sandwich? He needed to eat, but he also needed to sleep or he wouldn't be doing so much of it. What did she know about taking care of invalids? Not much, obviously. Now, if he were a dog, she'd be much more adept. When she'd gotten that little ball of fur she'd named Tricks, she'd been so terrified of her own ignorance that she'd read every article and book she could find on taking care of dogs. She'd never been the warmhearted, nurturing type, so it was ironic she'd landed in this role.

She hesitated for a minute, then slapped together a ham and cheese sandwich, put it in a sandwich bag along with some chips, and set them as well as a glass of water on the coffee table where he'd see them when he woke up. That would have to do.

She and Tricks drove back to town. On the way, she called the bank to ask about electronic transfers, and after a few minutes of holding, the head cashier picked up again and said, “Chief, we had a transfer come in overnight for you. It's already been credited to your account.”

“That fast?” Bo asked, her heart rate suddenly doubling. Until then the money had been a possibility rather than a reality, and the realization that she was no longer mostly broke was so startling that she stammered something about her share of an inheritance and hung up.

Good lord! What a turnaround! For seven years she'd been digging herself out of a deep hole, then like a lightning bolt she was once more secure and solvent. The relief was so overwhelming she felt giddy and pulled to the side of the road until she'd settled down some. She hugged Tricks, which earned her a lick. “Guess what, baby girl,” she said as she stroked the dog's lush fur. “You're going to be getting a new stuffed toy to play with. How does that sound, huh? Do you want a new baby?”

Tricks tilted her head back in enjoyment of the stroking, her eyes half-closed and a blissful golden-retriever smile on her face.

Bo's mind whirled with things she
could
do, one of which was buy a new vehicle that was more suitable for her, but the past seven years had taught her a lot and she immediately rejected the idea. No way. She didn't need a new car. She might want one, but she didn't
need
one. The Jeep was running fine, and it was paid for. No, it wasn't the most comfortable or practical choice for her, it had some miles on it, but she was used to it and she couldn't see spending money she didn't need to spend. That was how she'd gotten into such a financial mess to begin with. Likewise, she didn't need a new wardrobe. Or jewelry. Or a bigger TV.

Everything she needed—a home, friends, a job, Tricks—she already had.

Buying Tricks a new stuffed animal sounded like a great way to celebrate. Other than that, she'd use the entire hundred and fifty thousand to retire the last of her credit-card debt and make a big payment on her mortgage. She might refinance, she thought—but if she did, it would be for a shorter length of time. With the credit-card debt gone, she could
easily pay extra on the principal as well as start saving for when she actually
needed
a new car.

With seven years of hard work she'd bought herself some wiggle room and relief, finally. It was kind of annoying that Axel, of all people, had provided her with the means to jump out of the hole.

Never mind how annoying it was. She'd jump anyway.

When her heart rate settled down, she pulled back onto the highway and finished the drive to town. The light snow had melted into the occasional white patch, and a weak sun was trying to break through the dismal gray sky. Traffic was on the light side; evidently people were waiting until the snow was completely gone, and the temperature more than two degrees above freezing before they ventured out on their Friday errands. She passed a few people heading out for lunch a little early and greeted them with a honk and a wave. She made it all the way to the second traffic light before someone yelled, “Tricks!” and the royal procession began.

Tricks ate it up, beaming and giving the occasional happy “Woof!” when her name was called. She knew the routine and was more than happy to play her part.

The school principal, Evan Cummins, was leaving the bank where his wife, Lisa, was a vice president of commercial loans. The bank was small enough that she was likely
the
vice president of commercial loans, but the title was nice and Lisa well liked. Evan waved his arm to flag Bo down, and she pulled to the curb and rolled down her window. Evan darted across the street and leaned down to look in at her and Tricks. “Morning, Chief,” he said cheerfully. “Hi, Tricks.”

“Good morning,” Bo replied. “Is anything wrong?”

“No, everything's okay that I know of, which usually means something will blow up in my face as soon as I get back to the school. I just wanted to ask you if it would be okay for Tricks to ride on the Seniors' Float in the Heritage Parade. She was the kids' number one pick.”

The mental image tickled Bo, and she began laughing. “Will she have to wear a tiara?” The Heritage Parade was an annual event put on by the town, held in May just before the end of school so they could
guarantee the kids' participation. They got out of school to decorate the floats, and the competition between the classes was fierce. The day included an antique car show, a crafts fair, and different food vendors set up in the small town park so people could picnic without having to bring their own food. There were, of course, a Heritage King and Queen picked from the senior class.

“I wouldn't be surprised,” he replied. He was a pleasant-looking man in his mid-forties, brown hair and brown eyes, with a dimple beside his mouth when he smiled. All the kids and teachers in their small school seemed to like him, with the occasional hiccup in popularity whenever some of the kids got in trouble. He was a local, which to her way of thinking was a big plus because he knew everyone and the current set of parents were likely his own schoolmates, which meant he got more trust than an outsider would have.

Bo thought about it. Tricks loved attention, but she loved it only when Bo was nearby. “I don't know that she'd stay on the float if I weren't there. And, no, I don't want to ride on a float. She might do okay if we practiced, but more than likely she'd jump off the float and start looking for me.”

Evan made a series of thoughtful expressions as he ran possibilities through his head. “How about if you're hidden where no one can see you? On the float, I mean. I don't want her to get hurt jumping off a moving flatbed trailer. The kids really want her there. I think they'd crown her queen if she attended school.”

When Tricks was just a year old, Evan had talked Bo into attending Career Day at the school and bringing Tricks along. The gregarious dog had pranced into the redbrick building as if she owned it, bestowed her tennis ball on select students for them to throw for her, cuddled, licked, and generally charmed all the kids.

Bo hesitated. “Let me think about it.” She really didn't want to spend an hour or so crouched on a slow-moving float, especially when there wasn't any guarantee Tricks would sit prettily even with Bo nearby. She sighed. Oh hell, of course she'd do it, if Tricks would cooperate. “We'd need to do a practice run or two, to see if she'd do it. She might hate the commotion.”

Then again, when had Tricks ever hated being the center of attention? Nevertheless, Bo wasn't going to spring anything on her that was that far outside her experience.

“I'll get something set up,” he promised and lightly slapped the door frame as he straightened. “Thanks, Chief. I'll tell the kids it's a maybe, and it depends on Tricks.”

She rolled up the window and continued down the street toward the police station, but before she reached there she saw Jesse's patrol car come racing up the street and slide to a stop in front of Doris Brown's bakery. He leaped out of the car and ran inside.

Unless he had a cake emergency, Bo thought, something was wrong. She pulled to the curb on the opposite side of the street, let the window down a couple of inches so Tricks would have fresh air, and dashed across the street to join him. Had someone had a heart attack? Just as she reached the sidewalk, she heard a scream and a loud crash and her heart jumped; she jerked the door open and rushed inside.

At first the scene was too chaotic to make sense. Jesse and a man were rolling on the floor, throwing punches. Miss Doris stood behind the counter, her hands clapped to her cheeks with her eyes wide and panicky while she emitted a series of little cries like a squeaky car alarm going off. Her granddaughter, Emily, sat crying on the floor with a hand held over her left eye. The glass in one of the counters was broken, as was a table. A customer, Brandwyn Wyman, had grabbed up one of the chairs and was circling the two men fighting, ready to clobber one of them in the head if she got an open shot.

All Bo knew was that if a fight was going on, she was on Jesse's side. Without giving herself time to think and chicken out, she gulped once and threw herself into the fray and locked her arm under the other guy's chin, pulling back as hard as she could. If nothing else, at least she could distract him and give Jesse a chance to get him handcuffed.