‘I’m pretty sure Bob has more important things to do with his time.’
‘Yeah, like hold a grudge against the progress committee who didn’t vote for his stupid Big Burger,’ Bel said.
‘He’s building his own burger, so I don’t think he’s holding a grudge.’
‘He’s what?’
‘Apparently, he’s hired an architect to renovate the truck stop into a huge burger. At least, that’s what I heard. I have no idea if it’s true.’
‘Such a team player,’ Bel said sardonically. ‘Two big things in the same town. Way to divide the community.’
‘Well, when you think about it, there’s probably not that many places that have more than the one big thing. Maybe it’ll be a better drawcard to have two?’
Bel gave a small shrug. ‘One certainly hasn’t seemed to work so far.’
Dean finished eating, thanked her for lunch and left to go back to work. As she listened to the sound of his engine fade into the distance, Bel found herself pondering the strange attraction that had been popping up whenever they were around each other lately. Why was it happening now, when it hadn’t before? What was suddenly so different?
Her phone pinged and she grabbed it. She opened her Instagram account and gave a small, surprised chuckle. Her post was attracting a bit of attention.
Well, good. Poor old Elvis. And bloody Bob! If he did have something to do with it, she hoped that raising a little awareness might make him squirm. After all, it would make him look a bit stupid—a big-name businessman stealing a rooster from the museum. Seriously. How petty.
Two days later, Bel selected a trolley and began tossing in items from her list. The kids were like a swarm of hungry locusts, devouring the contents of the pantry within a few days of a shop. Emma had sent her a list of things to help with the whole lunch box conundrum and suggested she bake a big batch of biscuits. Clearly the woman was under a great deal of stress if she was suggesting that Bel bake. However, after seeing how fast the kids had gone through the last pack of biscuits, she decided she might have to give cooking a go, if she didn’t want to go broke supplying bought ones.
‘Hi, Bel,’ the cashier said, greeting her cheerfully. Margret had been working here for as long as Bel could remember. ‘I loved the post about Elvis!’
‘Oh. Thanks,’ Bel said with a quick smile. She hadn’t even been aware Margret followed her on social media.
‘Gotta love a good mystery. And fancy little old Wessex trending like that!’
Bel was slightly distracted by the fact Margret sounded so comfortable using the word ‘trending’, so it took a moment for the whole sentence to register. She gathered her purchases with a confused frown. Once in the car, she located her phone and began scrolling.
‘Holy hell,’ she whispered. Twenty-one thousand views and six hundred and thirty-four shares? She’d tagged the state police, and their social media team had set the internet ablaze with their reply. They had shared her post, and a large photo of Elvis, pre-kidnapping, now filled her screen.
Have you seen Elvis? Approximately one metre tall, shaggy appearance, somewhat stuffy personality? If so, we want to hear about it. Believed to have gone missing from the Wessex Museum three weeks ago.
This was insane. She opened her messages and found two requests for comment, one from a local newspaper, the other from a radio station. She shook her head in disbelief before sending off quick replies to both and putting her phone away. First things first—she needed to get some biscuits baked.
