CHAPTER TWELVE

 

The ride back to the farmhouse was filled with the stilted chitchat of two people trying to make the best of a rather awkward situation. In other words, we exchanged silly comments about the weather.

And speaking of the weather, it was a wee bit difficult to be conversational at all when I was literally freezing my ass off. Hell, my teeth were chattering, which probably made me appear nervous. And that was not the impression I needed to make.

But as far as first impressions went, where Captain Allen was concerned, I liked what I was seeing and hearing. Oh, he had that Tough Guy Cop aura, but there was also a kind, gentle giant way about him that I really liked.

I could tell in just one short ride with him that he was truly one of the good guys. And in today’s politically ruled law enforcement world, the good guys were getting harder and harder to come by.

It used to be that officers acted based on what’s right and wrong as determined by our laws. But not so much anymore. Now, matters are first analyzed for their political ramifications. Morality, human decency and justice have moved way down the priority scale.

Captain Allen, though, appeared to be old-school fair and tough but also open-minded enough to consider all the facts, not just the ones leading to hasty case wrap-ups.

“Did you want to go ahead and get on into the house? You could probably use some dry clothes and a cup of Molly’s famous cocoa too,” he said.

Despite my frozen state, I blushed. And I knew I was because I could feel the heat warming up my snow-blasted cheeks.

“Yeah. Sure thing. Sorry. I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment,” I said, feeling like a total idiot, and not sure how long the SUV had been at a stop.

“Bet that could be interesting,” he said, before turning off the motor.

“Scary too,” I admitted.

“Don’t doubt that either.”

“How do you know about Molly’s hot cocoa?” I asked, reasoning that because Nicky didn’t seem to know Captain Allen that Molly wouldn’t either.

“Her family and my family go way back. I was practically raised on that cocoa.”

Interesting, I thought. And no wonder I’d taken an instant liking to him. If he was a friend of Molly’s then I knew I was in good, trustworthy hands.

 

• • •

 

About an hour later, following a nice, hot as I could stand it shower and a change of clothes, I joined the Captain and Nicky around the breakfast nook table for cocoa and questioning.

“What I don’t understand, Nicky,” Captain Allen began.

“Please, call me Nick,” Nicky said, his eyes shooting daggers at me.

I just shrugged my shoulders, winked at Nicky then looked at the Captain as if to say “not sure what he has against Nicky…your guess is as good as mine.”

“Okay, Nick. What I don’t understand, and pardon me if this sounds naive, ‘cause I’m certainly no farm expert. But our vic was found near your chicken coop. So wouldn’t your chickens have made a lot of noise when the crime happened?”

“We don’t have chickens, just…”

Nicky got a dreadful look on his face.

“Just Napoleon, our rooster. If you’ll excuse me. Damn! I forgot all about him.”

He shot up from the table, shoved his feet back into his boots and grabbed his parka before hurrying out the back door.

Captain Allen and I watched out the windows as Nicky raced back down to the coop.

Reaching the crime scene tape, which evidently still had to be there or else someone had forgotten to take it down, he looked back at us as if wanting to know if it was okay to go under it.

Captain Allen motioned for him to go ahead and cross the line into the coop.

“If a stranger was out there and a body too, I don’t understand why a rooster wouldn’t start screeching or whatever it is that they do,” I said.

“Let’s just hope the little guy wasn’t another victim,” Captain Allen said.

I could tell he really meant it too.

The man liked animals. Another huge plus in my book.

I may be tough on people and really not that fond of ‘em in general, but damn, don’t get me started where animals are concerned. I’m a card-carrying PETA member and can’t stand the thought of any animal being harmed.

If something bad had happened to Napoleon, our perps had a whole new level of angst comin’ at ‘em.

Taking out assholes like Jack Collins? Well…let’s just say karma can be a real bitch.

But taking out an animal?

I would personally see to it that karma dealt with that kind of killer sooner rather than later.