| |
At eleven a.m. Tuesday, Haley’s home Internet stopped working again. Normally the inconvenience would peeve her, but today she welcomed the excuse to head to the Wheelbarrow Café and indulge in some gossip—if any existed since her identification of The Farmer yesterday.
Mindy waved as Haley walked into the restaurant. “Honey, have you heard the latest?”
Haley shook her head. She dropped onto the closest stool and leaned across the counter. “What’s the scoop?”
Mindy squeezed her arm. “The police are looking into that man you ID’ed, the one who sullied our wilderness with drugs.”
Haley’s pulse raced. She felt a surge of something, a long-forgotten emotion she identified as optimism.
“His name’s Ricardo Zepeda,” Mindy continued.
“Do you know him?”
“He never eats here, but I’ve seen him around town a few times. He pretty much keeps to himself. That one strikes me as being real secretive, like he’s hiding something.”
“You mean like a drug ring?”
Mindy snorted. “That would certainly fit the bill. Anyway, Victor got himself a search warrant. Him and Luke are out searching Ricardo’s home as we speak. If they find anything, I reckon they’ll arrest him on the spot.”
Haley’s breath caught, the word “arrest” ringing in her ears like church bells.
Mindy poured Haley a cup of coffee, perhaps attributing her near asphyxiation to a lack of caffeine. “You shoulda seen Victor when he came in to grab breakfast. I haven’t seen him this excited about a case in a long time.”
“There hasn’t been a case this big in a long time,” Haley replied, recalling Mindy’s tale of the broken taillight.
Mindy chuckled. “You got that right, honey. We pride ourselves on being your typical, crime-free small town.” She sobered. “But, like anything else, eventually all the big-city problems come trickling down to little places like ours. You just can’t dodge it.”
Haley’s stomach twisted over her own inability to avoid the impact of drugs on her life. When she’d found Michael dead in their bed close to five months ago, she’d felt as if someone had plunged their bare hands into her chest cavity and ripped out her heart.
And now, it looked as if the first of those someones would finally get what he deserved.
“So, what’ll it be for you today, honey?” Mindy said. “Grilled cheese?”
“Yes, please.”
Mindy stuck her order slip in the window and wandered off to serve another patron. Haley watched her, using Mindy’s presence to keep herself grounded when she really wanted to run around shouting about justice finally being served.
A blond woman around Haley’s age entered the restaurant. She perched on the edge of the stool beside Haley and bent over the counter.
“Hey, Timmy,” she yelled. “I’m here to collect your scraps.”
Haley followed the woman’s gaze to the kitchen. Timmy stood behind the serving window. The spatula in his hand shook, as if he were in the throes of a severe nicotine withdrawal.
“Hold your horses, Jen,” he shouted. “They ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
He winked when he spotted Haley watching their exchange. She flushed, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping, no matter how loud and public the conversation.
The woman swiveled toward Haley and flashed her a blinding smile. “Hi there. I’m Jenna. Jenna McArthur.”
Her name sounded familiar, although Haley knew she’d never seen Jenna before. Despite her lack of makeup, the woman sported the sort of natural, striking good looks that made her hard to forget.
“Haley Winequest,” Haley returned.
Jenna reached out her hand. Haley shook it, suppressing an overt reaction to Jenna’s dirty fingernails. She had to constantly remind herself that the town’s females were more interested in gardening than manicures.
Jenna angled her head toward the kitchen. “Timmy serves pot roast on Monday nights. I stop by every Tuesday to pick up the leftovers.”
“Oh.” Haley wasn’t sure what to make of the confession. Despite her apparent lack of concern over her appearance, Jenna obviously maintained herself. Not only did she not look like the type of woman who ate pot roast regularly, she seemed put together enough to subsist on something other than day-old scraps of leftover meat.
Jenna laughed. “The pot roast isn’t for me. It’s for my cat, Jane.”
Something clicked in Haley’s brain. When Mindy had recounted the tale of Jane, the ever-escaping feline, Haley had pictured Jenna McArthur as an old spinster, someone sporting gray hair and a whole bevy of cats. She hadn’t figured her to be trim enough to model swimwear and still in her childbearing years.
Jenna shifted on the stool. “I made the mistake of bringing Jane my leftovers once. Now she refuses to eat canned cat food.”
Haley smiled. “Cats can be stubborn.”
“You’re telling me.”
The hawking sound of phlegm being expelled from someone’s throat interrupted their exchange. “All right, Jen,” Timmy said, emerging from the kitchen with a container that he held up like a trophy.
Jenna’s eyes brightened as she took it. “Thanks, Timmy. Without you, Jane would starve herself to death.”
Timmy waved her off, but from the crinkles around his eyes Haley could tell Jenna’s flattery pleased him. “You know I’d do anything for that darling little creature.”
“You’re his best uncle,” Jenna confirmed.
Timmy laughed, but the sound quickly degenerated into a wheezing cough.
Mindy walked up to the counter and tossed an order at Timmy. “Old Harvey wants his usual.”
Timmy took the scrap of paper, issuing Jenna a salute as he retreated back to the kitchen. He then hooked the slip to the order rack, grabbed a pack of cigarettes, and slipped out the employee exit.
“I see you’ve met Haley,” Mindy said to Jenna. “Did she tell you about all the time she’s been spending with Luke Justice?”
Haley felt her cheeks redden as Jenna turned raised eyebrows in her direction. “I’m not willingly spending time with him,” she said.
Mindy grinned. “What do you call it then, honey? An added bonus?”
“More of an obligation.”
“What’s your relationship with Luke?” Jenna asked her.
“Relationship?” Haley repeated, taken aback. “There is no relationship. I’m an eyewitness.”
As Jenna’s brow furrowed, Haley recalled Mindy’s speculation over how Jenna let Jane out to have an excuse to talk to Luke. Could Jenna view Haley as competition over the officer’s affections? Haley wouldn’t be surprised if they were the only single women in town.
“I’m not dating him,” Haley informed them.
Mindy shrugged, as though Haley’s relationship status was simply a matter of opinion.
“I don’t even like him,” Haley insisted, growing hot. “He’s boorish.”
Jenna frowned. “Boorish?”
Remembering Jenna’s presumed crush, she added, “Boorish in an economy of . . . unnecessary grand gestures sort of way, I mean.”
Jenna didn’t look mollified by the clarification. Perhaps she’d figured out that Haley had used the term “unnecessary grand gestures” as a synonym for “manners.”
Mindy held up her palms. “Whatever you say, honey. All I know is I wouldn’t mind one bit if I lived five feet away from that stud. And I ain’t just saying that because my own neighbor insists on keeping that damn plum tree of his between our property lines.”
Jenna’s eyes widened as she assessed Haley anew. “That’s right. You live right next door to Luke, don’t you?”
“Haley took over Bill’s rental,” Mindy confirmed. “In fact, the three of us should break in the place. We’ll have a girls’ night.”
A long time had passed since Haley had indulged in a girls’ night, having alienated all of her girlfriends when Michael’s pot smoking became too much of an embarrassment. And given her current lack of furniture, the thought of entertaining guests didn’t enamor her now either. Jenna looked equally unenthusiastic from what Haley could tell based on her set jaw and slouched posture.
“Aw, come on,” Mindy said, looking between them. “It’ll be fun! It’ll be our own little ‘welcome to Sobaco’ event.”
Jenna lifted one shoulder. “I suppose we could do that.” She sounded somewhat resigned, probably having learned long ago what Haley was starting to realize: once Mindy Larkin got something in her head, she wouldn’t let up until everyone else went along with it.
“Peachy.” Mindy beamed, evidently viewing Haley’s opinion as inconsequential. “Haley, give us your phone number.”
As Haley rattled off her number, her mind whirled. Luke generally returned home from work around eight. Perhaps she could arrange for him to stop by during their girls’ night. With any luck, a semi-chance encounter would jump-start a romance between Luke and Jenna and put an end to Mindy’s inquiries about her own interest in the man.
She warmed to her plan the more she thought about it. After all, what was the worst that could happen? She doubted even a messy breakup could sour Luke’s personality further.
“Why don’t you stop by Friday night,” Haley suggested. “Does seven o’clock work?”
“Perfect,” Mindy said as Jenna nodded.
Best-case scenario, if Jenna and Luke did become involved, he might be more inclined to keep Haley—his girlfriend’s new friend—informed of any developments on the marijuana case. She merely had to make sure that Jenna put up with the man until Zepeda’s trial ended.
Haley glanced at Jenna. She felt a bit guilty over setting her up for her own selfish motive, but her mind wouldn’t drop the idea. Catching the people responsible for poisoning Michael had been her single-minded focus for the past five months, and befriending Jenna couldn’t change that.
She knew she wouldn’t stop obsessing until the entire marijuana organization was finally behind bars, hopefully for life.
