“Wouldn’t mind it.”
“I’ll get it for you. Nothing much to do. It’s quiet today.”
“May it continue.”
He went into his office, booted up his computer, picked up the ancient Slinky on his desk. Walking to the window, he moved his hands up and down to set the coils whispering.He liked the sound of it, found it soothing, like an old blanket or bare feet in warm grass.
He considered himself—and was considered by those who knew him—to be an even-tempered sort of man. Some would say a little on the low side of temper. So it surprised him just how much the incident with Abigail Lowery had pissed him off.
Take the dog. A beautiful son of a bitch, but there’d been no doubt if he’d made the wrong move, or she’d just had a fucking whim, that beautiful son of a bitch would have sunk his teeth into him.
Brooks didn’t mind unsettled situations, because he liked to settle them, find the answer or solution. Do the job, make the peace. But he damn well didn’t like being at such a slippery disadvantage against an armed woman and her big-ass guard dog.
No laws broken, he thought. Not one. And yet.
Some people were unfriendly by nature. He’d never understood the type, but he knew them, had dealt with them. It was more than that with this woman. A whole basketful of more.
He’d found her a strange and interesting mix of nerves and confidence, straightforward and secretive. Northern accent, he considered. Still shy of thirty, if he was any judge, and—barring Alma—he generally was.
On the slim side, but there was a coiled spring in there. Pretty, though she’d worn no makeup, and her clothes had been simple. Good boots, well broken in. No jewelry, no nail polish, no bright colors.
Don’t look at me—that’s what she was saying, in his opinion. Don’t notice me.
“What’s got you worked up?” Alma stepped in, set his coffee on his desk. “You’ve got your toy going,” she added when he turned.
“Just thinking.”
“Anything to do with the woman who bought the old Skeeter place?”
“Are you doing psychic readings these days?”
“I leave that to my girl.”
“How’s Caliope doing?” Alma’s daughter read tarot, palms and auras—and was one of his mother’s tight circle of friends.
“She worked an engagement party the other night. Picked up three more bookings out of it.”
“Good for her.”
“It’s a living. I heard you had what passes for a conversation with the Lowery girl over at the gourmet place.”
“She ain’t no chatterbox.” He sat, picked up his coffee, put his boots on the desk. An invitation for Alma to sit. “What do you know?”
“Not much, which bugs the hell out of me. What I got out of Dean McQueen, as he handled the property sale, is she contacted him by e-mail. Saw the sale online, asked some questions, thanked him politely. Few days later, she e-mailed again with an offer. Wasn’t the asking price, but Dean told me it was a little above what he hoped he’d get, and she offered a cash deal.”
“Cash.”
“That’s right. On the barrelhead. The Skeeters jumped on it. Well, you know Dean, he’s a salesman, and he likes to talk it up. He says he couldn’t get much more out of her than yes and no. She wired the earnest money from a bank in Kansas City. Drove in with that dog of hers for the settlement, pulling a U-Haul trailer. Signed the papers, handed over the cashier’s check, from a bank in Fairbanks, Alaska, this time. Dean wants to take her to lunch to celebrate, but she shuts that down. Wants to take her to the property, walk her through and shut down again. She takes the papers, the keys, thanks everyone and that’s that.”
“It’s a puzzle,” Brooks murmured.
“People who say live and let live? They’re not doing a lot of living, as far as I’m concerned.” She got up as the radio in the dispatch area squawked. “It’d be interesting to find out what her deal is.”
“It would,” Brooks agreed. As Alma went out to answer the radio, his phone rang. “Bickford Police Department,Chief Gleason.” For now, he put Abigail Lowery on his back burner.
He handled the paperwork, the phone calls, took a turn at foot patrol, where he listened to the owner of a pottery shop complain about the owner of the neighboring candle shop once again blocking his delivery entrance with his car.
And once again talked to the offender.
