THIRTY

Janie scooted around several lunch goers seated at the crowded bistro. Chief Gates waved and half rose from the table.

Janie extended her hand to shake his, but he bent and kissed it instead. Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Jonathan, please.”

He gave her a slight bow as he pulled out her chair. “Sorry. Still basking in the glow of the evening we spent together.”

Her eyes widened. “Hush. People will hear and think the wrong thing.” She smoothed her napkin over her lap as he returned to his seat, his eyes twinkling.

She sucked in a deep lungful of air. “Jonathan, I’m not sure this is right for me.”

He knitted his brow. “We can go someplace else. I thought you might like a lighter fare, not that you need to watch your figure.”

Janie narrowed her gaze. “Enough. No more flirting. It makes me nervous.”

Jonathan pouted. “I’m sorry. I must admit I’m rather rusty at this.”

She softened her face. “You’re acting like a hormonal teenage boy.”

He shrugged. “Last time I courted I guess. Marjorie was my sweetheart all the way through high school. We married when she turned eighteen. I never dated before, really.”

“Oh, that explains a lot.” She pressed her lips together. After a moment, she returned her focus to his eyes. “You must miss her horribly.”

He looked away. “We should order.” He waved the waiter over.

After they gave their orders, Janie pulled out a snack-sized plastic bag. “A present.”

He took it between his fingers, held it up, then frowned.

“It’s the third bullet from the crime scene. My guess is forensics will determine it also came from Holden’s gun. Which means Aaron’s testimony is accurate.”

“How in the world...?”

She gave him a wide, tight-lipped grin.

He shook his head. “You do amaze me, madam.” Then he blushed. “Oh, I called you the wrong thing. I wouldn’t want anyone to think that was your profession.”

Janie spewed half of her swallow of iced tea into her napkin as she laughed loud enough for the kitchen staff to hear. The bumbling man did possess a certain raw charm.

~*~

Betsy Ann squinted through the wet stragles on her forehead as her favorite hairdresser, Susie, clipped her bangs. A lively conversation between Josephine in the next chair and the new stylist named Jody caught her ear.

“People are so dumb to post on their pages they’re going on vacation. I mean, thieves can scan through those things, can’t they?” Jody removed another roller.

“Not sure. Wouldn’t they have to be their friends to see it?’

“Not if it’s posted to the public, Josephine.” She smacked her gum and untwisted another curler. “My sister’s next door neighbor got cleaned out. She’d posted she planned to be out of touch because her daughter invited her to come stay a while, and they lived out in the boonies with very poor reception. A week later this moving van shows up.”

“And no one wondered?”

“Well, seems the woman had recently been widowed. My sister and the other neighbors figured the daughter persuaded her to stay on.”

“Sorry, I need to use the restroom,” Betsy Ann whispered to Susie. She slipped out of the beauty salon chair and headed for the back, still draped in the vinyl cape. Closing the door to the facilities, she called Janie.

“Janie. Did the Baileys or Jane Stephens post on social media?”

“I think so. I know Jane does. She’s always snapping pictures of that cat of hers. Scrawny thing. Not half as gorgeous as Mrs. Fluffy but you don’t see me plastering her face all over the Internet.”

“Well, maybe that’s how the burglars discovered they wouldn’t be home.”

“Betsy Ann! Good for you. You may just be on to something. I’m going online to see if they did, and if Annie did as well. Bye.”

Betsy Ann felt her cheeks heat with pride. With her head held a bit higher she returned to her seat. “I feel bold, Susie. Let’s trim another half inch.”

~*~

Later that afternoon, Jonathan’s secretary called and asked Janie to hold for the chief. He came on the phone seconds later.

“Janie. Disturbing news. Ballistics ran the bullet through and it’s not a match to the one that penetrated Aaron Jenkins. So, Holden didn’t fire it.”

Janie felt her knees give way. She eased into her chair. “What? How could it not?”

He grunted. “Puzzling, right? I wouldn’t think too many of the citizens of Sunset Acres go around shooting pistols in their yards even though this is Texas.”

“Hmm. Any way to tell how long the bullet had been there? A week, a month, a year?”

“I’ll ask. Why?”

“Well, if it’s as recent as a week or so, then I’d run it through again. And, Jonathan, test it against a newly fired bullet from Phil’s gun.”

“Again...Why?” She heard him shuffle papers on his desk.

“Just a thought. What if the bullet that killed Les Holden wasn’t from your officer’s weapon after all?”

He scoffed. “Whose would it be from? Aaron Jenkins had no gun residue on his fingers. No other officer had arrived at the scene yet.”

“Not true, Jonathan. How about the stockier man in the black hoodie? You get it? The one who ran past my friends and I who later matched the description of the man face down in the river? He identified himself to Phil and us as a plain-clothed policeman.”

“Long shot, no pun intended.”

“Just check it, will you? For me, Jonathan?” She sugar-coated her plea and then made a face, regretting her stoop to using feminine wiles. “I’ll tell you my theory if it pans out.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, all right. Probably should’ve been done in the first place.”

“Thanks.”

“You think the two incidences are related, right?”

Janie ran her finger over the ribbing on her upholstery. “There may be another reason why the man in the river’s fingers were scraped other than to remove his fingerprints.”

She heard Jonathan’s chair respond as he must have sat forward. “To remove gun powder residue as well? Janie, I’m sorry I underestimated you.”

“Most people do. Females with facial wrinkles are rarely taken seriously.”

“I take you very seriously. Dinner tomorrow after church?”

Janie grinned into the phone. Smooth transition, guy. She dug her toe into the carpet. “Only if we go Dutch and you fill me in on the findings.”

Jonathan sighed. “You do play hard ball. I hope our conversation will be fuller than that. Plus, it is against my nature for a lady to pay for her own meal.”

“Jonathan, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I do it all the time. Even if a man isn’t around, I still have to eat, you know. I’m a modern woman who isn’t always tied to the stove by her apron strings.”

His laughter blasted through the phone. “As long as I’m still allowed to open doors for you.”

She faked an exasperated sigh. “Very well, if you insist.”

When they hung up, she cradled the receiver to her chest.

~*~

Mitch crossed his ankle over his leg and wiggled his foot. Watching the chief act like a school boy as he spoke with Janie over the speaker phone perturbed him. Wonder if Blake knew his mother-in-law was being wooed by his boss. He blew out a breath and snatched the evidence packet. “A third bullet, huh?”

The chief of police hung up. “A running theory, by Janie Manson who found it, is it might have come from someone else’s gun other than Phil’s.”

“You’re going to run it through again as she asked?”

“No harm. Go with Edwards to the firing range. Have him fire twice for good measure. Retrieve the bullets and take them to the lab.”

He stood. “Yes, sir. What’s this about fingerprints?”

Gates tented his fingers. “The John Doe pulled from the San Gabriel had none. Scraped clean, remember? He more matches the description of the man Janie Manson and her friends ID’ed that night than Wellington. She wonders if he shot the third bullet, and if that landed in Holden instead.”

“Which would mean Edwards didn’t down the first burglar but this mystery cop did?”

“Exactly. It would clear our newest detective of any wrongdoing. It might also explain why he only heard two shots.”

“If the second burglar used a silencer, you mean?”

“Or the other guy fired quickly afterwards, so Phil took it as an echo.”

Mitch cocked his head. “Interesting. And if so, who did he aim at? Holden? Edwards? Jenkins?”

“If the guy used a silencer, Aaron Jenkins would have been able to see the glow from the discharge and assumed he heard it. If the man was in the shadows behind Edwards, Jenkins may not have seen him clearly. Forensics should be able to tell us if the bullet was fired through a silencer. The pattern would be different. My guess is they never considered looking for that since everyone assumed the bullet that nailed Holden came from a police revolver.”

“True. Anyone can obtain a Glock.” Mitch shook his head back and forth. “I dunno. Sounds like grabbing for straws to me. Pardon me for saying so, sir. I think she’s getting under your skin. Blake did warn me she’d try to butt in.”

Gate’s face reddened. “I brought her in on the case, Mitch. And might I add, I’ve seen more out of her than you on it. Hemphill complained you’ve been stonewalling him as well. What’s up?”

Mitch jolted from his seat. “Nothing.”

Gates leaned back. “Oh? Then why the attitude?”

He looked at his knuckles for several moments. “I’m sorry, sir.” He sunk back into his chair. “I might have come back too soon.”

“Why do you say that?”

He rubbed two fingers over his brow. “To be honest, I feel as if I’m sinking. Maybe I want to push things aside as not worth dealing with, sort of like you shove leaves and scum out of your way in a river when you’re swimming.”

“Minimize their importance so they don’t pile up, correct?”

“We do have quite a few outstanding cases right now as well as the I.A. investigation. More than normal, as I recall.”

“Seems that way to me, too.”

Mitch let out a nervous chuckle. “This isn’t a small town anymore, is it?”

Gates sighed. “Nope.” He punched a button on his phone. “Mae. Hold my calls, please.”

Mitch felt the blood leave his face as he watched his boss come around and sit in the chair beside him and place his hand on his shoulder. “You’re an excellent detective. Even so, you’ve just walked into a hornet’s nest, haven’t you? I’m sorry.”

“Um, comes with the territory, sir, doesn’t it?”

Gates exhaled through his nose. “That burglary gone wrong that winged you? That wouldn’t have happened in our neck of the woods three years ago. Drugs, organized crime, prostitution, organ trafficking. It’s all seeping in. The town’s going through growing pains, and we’re catching the brunt of it. It’s no wonder emotions are high around here. They have been since your incident, Mitch, and then Blake’s kidnapping. So, even if Aaron hadn’t been shot everyone would be on edge.”

“Yeah, but just back from leave I should be the cool one in the bunch.” He wiped his eyes. “I honestly didn’t think seeing another officer take a bullet would have this effect on me.”

Gates patted him on the shoulder. “It affects a man. Makes him face his mortality. When Holden shot you, one bullet passed through your arm and another nicked your heart, Mitch. You were touch and go for a while there. It’s gotta mess with you. And now you watch a colleague go through the same thing by the same perp who got off from nailing you?” He whistled through his teeth.

“I admit, I haven’t shed any tears over the scum’s death.”

“Mitch, I shouldn’t have dumped the internal affairs investigation into your lap. On top of the fact you’ve had to rev up to speed on our other cases while getting acquainted with Mike, Amos, and Phil, all who were hired while you were out.”

“Yeah, things around here have changed a bit. But, sir, Blake needed this vacation. He hasn’t had a proper one in years. Besides, who else was there?”

“Nobody.” He stood. “Take the rest of the day off, son. That’s an order. Go talk to the shrink if it helps.”

Mitch snorted. “I think a nice, quiet afternoon fishing might do the trick.”

Gates rounded his desk and eased back into his chair. “I hear some of the men are taking up shooting nutria for a few extra bucks. Blasting a few rounds into vermin might be therapeutic.”

Mitch laughed. “Heard the same thing. Sounds like a plan. Thanks, sir.”

~*~

Jonathan texted a message. Worried about our friend.

A few seconds later the answer flashed onto his screen. You may be right after all. Keep an eye on him since I can’t.

Plan on it. Jonathan clicked off. He rubbed his hand down his chin, rose, and went to get a fresh cup of coffee.