“I’m from the Department of Health. We got a tip-off that you had mold in your kitchen and didn’t perform a proper remediation. This violates code SS55 1-1215 of the Virginia State Health Code. I’m afraid we’re going to have to shut you down.”
“Shut us down?” Maggie repeated in shock. “You can’t do that.”
“Yes, we can,” replied the small man.
Cash turned on the charm, offering a friendly smile. “What did you say your name was?”
“Brant Melvin,” he replied in a bored voice. “I have an order to allow me to inspect the premises.” He pulled a yellow carbon sheet out of his pocket and unfolded it.
Cash took it from Brant and held it close, inspecting the signature line. “I can’t read the signature.”
Brant shrugged as if that wasn’t his concern. “Are you going to let me in, or do I need to have a sheriff escort me inside?”
Cash’s smile didn’t slip. Maggie had to give him credit for that. The inspector was all prickles and superiority that grated against her every nerve.
“Of course you can come inside.” Cash patted James on the shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he said, low enough that Maggie barely caught the exchange.
James nodded and moved aside. Cash let go of Maggie’s hand as he started the tour for Mr. Melvin.
Maggie hung back on the porch with James. “What’s going on?”
James leaned close and talked fast. “Nothing good. I’ve never had the Department of Health show up like this. If we had mold, we would have taken care of it properly.”
“Could one of the guys have called?” Maggie glanced over her shoulder at the crew. They were on their phones or chatting while drinking soda. She’d served these guys breakfast on several occasions. They wouldn’t have done something to cause trouble for her or Cash, would they?
James shook his head. “Not these guys. They all want you in that kitchen as much as possible.”
A spike of worry pulsed through Maggie’s bloodstream. “Wait—why would this take me out of the kitchen?” She glanced at the truck full of ingredients, the white shopping bags rustling in the slight breeze that always seemed to blow through the clearing.
James lowered his brow. “I think—”
He was cut off by a loud crash coming from the very room Maggie was worried about. She darted through the door and ran pell-mell through the house. The scene in the kitchen was horrific, and she screamed, grabbing her face like a woman in an old slasher film. “What are you doing?” The wall had a huge hole in it, and she could see into the front parlor.
Brant was poised with his hammer, ready to strike again, his beady little eyes gleaming with pleasure.
Cash stood back, his arms folded and his jaw set.
Sheetrock dust and debris littered the dark wood floor like blood splatters.
“My kitchen!”
Brant swung again, making the hole bigger. She lunged at him, only to be caught up in Cash’s arms. “Let it be.”
“No! He’s ruining everything.”
Brant used the claw end of the hammer to pull away a large section. He grabbed a flashlight from his belt and swiped the beam over the interior boards.
Cash placed his lips by her ear. “That’s why he’s here.”
“To wreck your hard work.” She shrugged out of Cash’s arms and stalked toward Mr. Melvin. “Stop! My husband built this kitchen for me.”
“I’m only doing what’s necessary.” He tucked his flashlight away and spun, his eyes scanning. “I’ll need to see behind that cabinet.” He pointed to the sink.
“That would mean removing the countertop,” said Cash.
“Let’s get at it.” Mr. Melvin reached for his hammer again. Maggie growled, and he bristled. “It’s for your own good, ma’am.”
Cash pointed at Melvin. “If you use that hammer on the countertop, you’re going to answer to me, man to man.”
