The house was a bungalow in the older part of Chinook, about a block from the river. For all the years that Thumps had known Duke, he had only been inside once.
A birthday party.
Hockney’s fiftieth. Macy had arranged it as a surprise. Thumps remembered the look on Duke’s face when he walked in the door and everyone leaped out of hiding places, screaming, “Happy birthday.”
It was such a surprise that Duke’s first reaction was to reach for his service revolver. At the time, Thumps figured that it was a toss-up between shooting the well-wishers and shooting himself. Gone was the peaceful evening Hockney had envisioned, sitting in front of the TV with a beer, watching Monday Night Football.
Thumps hadn’t expected to find the sheriff sitting on the porch, enjoying the day. And he wasn’t. The house was dark and quiet. Thumps casually peeked in the front window. Nothing.
“Those doughnuts?”
Duke came around the side of the house, dressed in work clothes. Work hat. Work gloves. A shovel in his hand.
Thumps held the sack out. “Dumbo’s best.”
Duke set the shovel against the side of the house. “If you’re trying to think of something sympathetic to say, don’t bother.”
“Okay.”
“And I don’t need a hug.”
Duke came onto the porch, sat down in the chair, took off the hat and gloves.
“Yardwork?”
“Macy had been after me to dig up a section by the garage for years. She wanted to plant rhubarb.” Duke opened the bag, took out a doughnut. “Better late than never.”
“You can make jam.”
“What?”
“Rhubarb jam,” said Thumps. “Anna made it once. It was good.” Duke nodded. “Anna Tripp. Your woman in Northern California. The one who was murdered. This your way of letting me know that you know how I feel?”
“Maybe.”
“Beats another one of those ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ ” Duke took a deep breath. “You want a beer?”
“Beer and doughnuts?”
“Who the hell cares.”
Thumps sat on the porch railing, watched the breeze rattle the lilacs in the side yard.
“You here to give me the Chinook crime report, or you here because you’re worried I’m wallowing in grief and depression and might do something stupid?”
“The first one.”
“Liar.” Duke bit the doughnut in half. “There a pool?”
“What?”
“A pool. You know, bets on whether or not I’ll come back to the job.”
“No pool.” Thumps took his hat off, put it on his lap. “I figure you’ll come back if you want to come back.”
“That one of those tautologies?”
“Not sure.”
At the very least, Thumps had expected to find a gaunt and exhausted Duke, but the man sitting in the chair was clean-shaven and bright-eyed, as though he had passed through the anguish of Macy’s death unscathed.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m looking so chipper.”
“Glad to see it.”
“Macy’s sister thought I was heartless, thought I should have broken down, thrown myself into her grave.” Duke finished the doughnut. “Except there wasn’t a grave. The two of us had already decided on cremation when the time came.”
Thumps fished a doughnut out of the bag.
“That didn’t sit well with Joan. She’s a staunch Catholic. Believes in god and the soul and all that. You bury bodies. You don’t burn them. Asked Joan what difference it made, and she reminded me that Jesus wasn’t cremated. That pretty much settled it.”
“Would have come to the funeral.”
Duke shook his head. “Wasn’t any funeral. Joan organized a memorial for the family.”
“Chance for people to say their goodbyes, share stories, come to terms with death.”
“Wouldn’t know.” Duke stretched his legs out, leaned back. “I wasn’t invited.”
The breeze had picked up. There was a dark line of clouds on the horizon. A storm in the distance.
“I miss her, you know. You live with someone for that many years and you sort of get rolled up into one person. Don’t even realize it’s happened. Then suddenly, you’re torn in half.”
Maybe the storm would sneak into Chinook to see how Duke was doing. Maybe there would be a little rain for the rhubarb.
“Ragged edges. Every time I turn around, there’s another ragged edge.”
“You had anything to eat?”
Duke licked his fingers.
“Besides this.”
“You want to feed me?”
“Was thinking about it.”
“What were you thinking?”
“Pizza and beer?”
Duke stood up in one motion. “Do I have to change?”
BADA BING PIZZERIA was one of the new restaurants that had risen out of the ashes of COVID. Thumps had taken Claire and Ivory to the grand opening. Which hadn’t been all that grand. A power outage shut down the ovens for the first part of the evening. The server got the order wrong and arrived with a medium vegetarian when they had ordered an extra-large sausage, onion, and hot pepper special.
The correct pizza arrived forty-five minutes later, during which time Thumps had to follow Ivory up and down Main Street, as the seven-year-old skipped along the sidewalk, looking in the store windows and shouting, “I’m hungry,” at the top of her voice.
But the pizza was good. And in the end, that’s what mattered.
DUKE LEFT HIS WORK GLOVES and work hat at home. He even changed out of his boots and combed his hair.
“Let’s sit at the back.”
“So no one can see us?”
“Hard enough losing Macy,” said Duke. “Don’t need a bunch of well-wishers reminding me she’s gone.”
“People don’t know what to say.”
“That’s just it. They don’t need to say anything.”
The server was a young woman with half her hair dyed blond and the other half a bright magenta.
“We have several specials.”
Duke smiled, shook his head. “Extra-large pepperoni and sausage. You got any Westvleteren 12?”
“Is that beer?”
“Or Sapporo Premium Black?”
“We have Bud,” said the woman. “And something that starts with an H.”
“The pizza and two of the Hs.” Duke jerked his thumb at Thumps. “My friend here is paying.”
Thumps watched the woman retreat to the kitchen. “Probably Heineken.”
“Probably.”
“Westvleteren 12?”
“Saw an article about expensive beers on the internet.”
“So, you were just being a jerk.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be lifting me out of my depression?”
“Yeah,” said Thumps, “I am.”
“Well, you’re doing a shitty job.”
Thumps would have preferred to sit at a window, so he could look out onto the street. There was something luxurious about lounging in a café over a meal and watching people as they went about their business. You could make up stories about who they were, what they were doing, where they were going. A bit voyeuristic, if he was being honest with himself.
“So, fill me in.” Duke laced his fingers, leaned forward on the table.
“Nothing much. Our car thief is still at large.”
“It’s been six months,” said Duke. “Before Macy went to her sister’s.”
“More like seven,” said Thumps. “And we’ve got the tournament at Shadow Ranch. Vernon Rockland has requested that we have a couple of deputies at the ready, in case someone has too much to drink and decides to skinny-dip in the pond at the eighth hole.”
“You tell Vernon we don’t do resort security?”
“I did.”
“And that we don’t have a couple of deputies to spare.”
“Two deputies is all we have.”
“Three, counting you,” said Duke.
“I’m the sheriff,” said Thumps.
“Temporary,” said Hockney. “Temporary deputy sheriff.”
“Nothing much else shaking,” said Thumps. “I thought we were going to have problems out at the Mustang after the town pushed the city limits to the turnoff to Glory, but so far so good.”
“Lorraine and Big Fish got their own security.”
“You talking about Lorraine’s temper and Big Fish’s mouth?”
“I’ll be back in the office tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
“Binge-watched Justified and Death in Paradise. Cleaned out the garage. Took the snow tires off the car. Joan is coming by to take Macy’s stuff. Family gets first shot. The rest goes to the Goodwill.”
Duke tapped out a quick rhythm on the table. “So, what’s happening with you and Claire?”
Thumps shrugged.
“That’s not really helpful,” said Duke. “I heard the two of you were looking at houses.”
“We were.”
“And?”
“We stopped looking.”
The pizza and beer arrived just in time.
“Heineken,” said Duke. “Where’s the imagination?”
Thumps wouldn’t have seen her, if he hadn’t been looking.
Ora Mae Foreman.
Chinook’s realtor extraordinaire. Standing on the sidewalk, peering in. But it wasn’t Ora Mae who caught his eye. There were two other people with her. An older woman whom Thumps didn’t recognize. Probably someone in the market for a house. The other was a man, dressed in black, looking as though he had stepped out of a bad spy novel.
Cisco Cruz.
Duke was saying something about wheat beers versus dark malts, when he realized that Thumps wasn’t listening.
“Shit,” said the sheriff. “That who I think it is?”
Cruz and the two women were locked in a discussion of some sort. Ora Mae pointing down the street, the woman shaking her head, Cruz shifting his weight back and forth, his hands in his pockets.
“You didn’t tell me he was in town.”
“Didn’t know.”
And then Ora Mae turned and headed down the street, with the woman and Cruz in her wake.
“You do realize,” said Duke, “that every time he comes to town, someone dies.”
“Not really his fault.”
Duke helped himself to another slice. “True enough. But some people are catalysts for trouble, lightning rods for disaster. Just standing next to them voids your warranty.”
“I should get back to the office.”
Duke tapped the table. “You only had one slice of pizza.”
“Not really hungry.”
“You not going to finish your beer?”
“Help yourself.”
“You mind if I pack up the rest?” said Duke. “Take it home. Save me the trauma of what to eat for dinner.”
“Go for it.”
“Macy never much liked pepperoni. Said it gave her gas.”
“You really coming back tomorrow?”
“Tell me that Deanna hasn’t broken my percolator.”
“It’s still in one piece.”
“Okay.” Duke stacked the pizza slices, wrapped a couple of napkins around them. “See you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe by then, you can find out why Cisco Cruz is wandering our green and pleasant land.”
Thumps wiped his hands. “Last time he was in town, he said he was thinking of moving here.”
“Which would explain Ora Mae.”
“Which would.”
“The ninja assassin as a neighbour.” Duke got to his feet. “I feel a tremor of concern coming on.”
“You need another deputy,” said Thumps. “Maybe he’d be interested in the job.”
Duke laughed all the way out of the restaurant. And all the way back to the car. He was still chuckling when Thumps dropped him off in front of his house.
Duke opened the door but stayed in the car.
“When your woman in California and her daughter were killed, where did you spend that first night?”
“I should get back to the office.”
Duke nodded. “I’d invite you in,” he said, “but I don’t want to.”