Santa's Subpoena Page 8

  “Dunno.” She handed over the receipt for me to sign. “I hope your boyfriend likes the flannel. You guys just started dating, huh?”

  I signed. “Kind of. Is this a first dating kind of present?”

  “Yeah.” She bagged the shirt and handed it over. “It’s a cool but not serious present.”

  I bit my lip. That didn’t describe us. “Thanks.” Wait a minute. She’d worked for the family for years? “I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Anna.” I held out my free hand.

  “Fran.” She shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  I coughed. “Oh. I figured you were Sharon Smith.” Yep. Totally fishing right then since I figured Sharon didn’t work at the store. Perhaps Fran knew her.

  She frowned. “No. Who’s that?”

  Great question and I was nowhere closer to finding out. “Dunno.” I turned and headed to the door with my bag that contained the wrong Christmas present for Aiden Devlin. Maybe my dad would like it.

  I called Bernie from the Rogue and arranged to meet him at McQuirk’s Deli by the prosecuting attorney’s office for an afternoon coffee. I was hot on the case and not avoiding Aiden, and I could almost convince myself of that fact. My phone had buzzed a few times from him, and I figured I’d read his texts later. Right now, I needed to concentrate.

  Yeah, I could bury my head in the sand like the best of them. Or in the snow, anyway.

  McQuirk’s was quiet this winter afternoon with more holiday music playing throughout. I sat at a table near the window that looked out past the silent volleyball courts to the frigid lake. Lilac Lake was much bigger than my quaint Tamarack Lake, even to the point of being connected to rivers on either side that could lead to other lakes. Today the cold had stilled her waves, giving her a steel-gray hue that made me shiver.

  Bloated clouds had rolled in, fierce and gray, starting to smother the weak sun. A quick scroll through my phone showed that snow was coming. I didn’t really need an app to tell me that.

  My phone buzzed again, this time with a call. “Hi. I’m fine,” I answered.

  “Where are you?” Aiden asked mildly.

  “I’m working but am safe. Armed and everything,” I said, blowing on my peppermint mocha. “I’ll need a ride home a little later, but if you’re not around, I’ll find somebody.”

  “You know, Angel, when I drop you off somewhere, I like you to be there when I return to fetch you.” He still sounded calm, which might be a bad thing. “I’m gonna ask you again. Where are you?”

  I was feeling fairly safe since he obviously hadn’t pinged my GPS. He’d have to go through official ATF channels to do it, and my gut told me he wanted to avoid that at the moment, especially since his bust had gone south. Not that we’d talked about it yet, so I was just guessing. “I’m meeting a client, and I think you should stop being so bossy.”

  “I’m not being bossy. You have a stalker, probably, and I’m being safe. What’d be very nice is if you wanted to be safe as well.” Not. So. Mild.

  I breathed out. “I am safe. I’ve taken every precaution, I’m armed, and I don’t like you making me feel like I’m helpless or can’t take care of myself.” The words rushed out of me.

  Silence ticked for a minute. “I don’t want you to feel helpless,” he finally said quietly. “I’m sorry if I’ve been holding on too tight. It’s just, knowing you might be in danger…not that I have any right to talk, considering my job.”

  I swallowed. “We’re still finding our way, Aiden.” If he got any sweeter, I’d just roll over like a puppy. “I should’ve told you I had plans.” Yeah, I’d acted a mite immature. It was a character flaw that I should probably work on in my spare time. “I’m at McQuirk’s meeting a client and then will take Tessa’s rig back to her at the diner. How about we meet there in an hour?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” He ended the call.

  I slipped my phone back into my purse. The guy never said goodbye. Was it a thing with him? I forgot all about it as Bernie walked in from the parking lot side, shaking snow off his gray hair in the entryway. He spotted me, waved, and then moved for the counter.

  When he joined me at the table, he held what smelled like a pumpkin spiced latte. “It’s good to see you.” He sat.

  I took another sip of my rich brew. “Did you know that the Kringle Club was going to inherit all of Lawrence’s guns?”

  Bernie’s eyebrows rose. “No. Wow. He had some great shotguns—worth quite a bit.”

  I reached in my purse and handed over the list. “Give me an estimate for each, would you?” There were fifteen shotguns or rifles on the list.

  “Sure.” He tugged a pen from his front pocket and started making notes.

  “Did you know that Lawrence had proposed to Florence?” I asked, watching him carefully.

  He paused and looked up, his eyes pained behind his glasses. “No. Did she accept?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew that he’d purchased a ring but not that he’d actually popped the question.” Bernie grimaced. “Lawrence and Florence. They sound dumb together.” Then he jolted and crossed himself. “May Lawrence rest in peace.”

  The guy seemed like he was telling the truth. “Did you know that Florence inherited millions from Lawrence?” I asked.

  Bernie straightened, making his blue bowtie peek over the top of his zippered down jacket. “No. Millions? Lawrence had millions?” He scratched a dark spot on his worn skin by his nose. “I had no idea. He didn’t act rich.”

  I cocked my head, sipping quietly. “Why wouldn’t Lawrence leave his estate to his son?”

  “They didn’t get along,” Bernie said. “Lawrence got into the whiskey one night, probably late last summer, and spilled that Hoyt has a gambling problem. The guy spends all his time at the casinos on the reservations around here when he’s not headed to Vegas. It caused problems between them. Bad ones.”

  Interesting. Did Hoyt owe people money? I made a mental note to call Detective Pierce with the new info. “Tell me about you threatening Lawrence.”

  Tears gathered in Bernie’s cataract-riddled eyes. “I was so mad. Earl told me that Lawrence had purchased the ring, and I just lost it. Oh, I was irritated about the movie and Lawrence wanting to be in it, but that normally wouldn’t have set me off. What kind of a guy proposes to his best friend’s ex-wife? What was he thinking?” Bernie’s entire sunken chest moved when he exhaled. “I know what he was thinking. Flo is amazing. Who wouldn’t want to marry her?” He finished scribbling on the paper. “The hard part is keeping her. She gets bored easy and moves on. I got angry and made a mistake. A big one.”

  I kind of felt sorry for the guy. “What happened?”

  “I cheated on her. Just once and just one night where I had way too much to drink. I don’t even remember it.” He wiped his eyes. “Biggest mistake of my life.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing why. “Tell me about you threatening him.”

  The story he related was exactly what Fran had told me earlier. “I was just mad about the ring. That’s all,” Bernie said.

  “Okay.” I cocked my head. “What was it about lures?”

  He sighed. “Is there anything you don’t find out?”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “But the prosecution finds out everything. How about you finally level with me?”

  His shoulders hunched. “Fine. Lawrence and I were going to open a second bait and tackle shop in Montana, and I already had lures ordered, and then he goes and falls in love with the love of my life. I couldn’t go into business with a guy married to Flo.”

  Yet another motive. The guy was killing me. He looked so sad, I reached out and patted his hand. “One last question. Do you know a Sharon Smith?”

  He blinked. “Um, yeah. Why?”

  My breath quickened. “Who is she?”

  He turned a beet red. Like a bruised beet that somebody had stepped on several times. “She’s the woman from the one-night stand. When I cheated on Fl
orence and ruined my whole life.”

  Chapter 12

  Darkness had prematurely descended in the form of silver-bellied clouds and falling snow by the time Aiden picked me up from Smiley’s Diner. While Sharon Smith had helped to ruin Bernie’s life, he didn’t really know her and had no clue how to find her.

  That was now my job. At least I had a direction to take the case.

  I ran through the pummeling flakes and jumped into Aiden’s truck, keeping the bag with his shirt against my side. “Hi.” Warmth instantly surrounded me when I shut the door.

  “Hi.” He ducked his head, looked in the mirror, and pulled out onto Main Street, the windshield wipers swishing rhythmically. He’d ditched his coat, which lay on the console between us. A simple tee hugged his broad chest. “How did it go with your client?”

  The innocuous question relaxed me as nothing else could have. Yeah, we were tripping and falling while we found our way together, but things were okay now. I secured my seatbelt and brushed snow off my jeans. “I’m not sure.” For a while, I thought I was perhaps finding good information for Bernie’s defense, but then maybe not. I hadn’t put the pieces together yet, but my instincts were humming and strong. “What about you? How were your errands?”

  “Good.” He turned at a stoplight, heading west. “I think I found an office for my team.”

  I stilled. “An office here?” Aiden ran a Special Response Team for the ATF, and most of the elite teams were based out of big cities. Only Aiden’s team was recently allowed to relocate closer to a satellite office in Spokane, but his office had been blown up during the summer, and then they’d been off on undercover ops since. “As in here in Timber City and not in Spokane?”

  “Yeah.” He ducked his head and turned toward Lilac Lake Road. “Since we’re not going in-house with the Spokane office, there doesn’t seem to be a reason we can’t locate here. So long as we’re allowed to relocate.”

  My skin buzzed. “Is there a chance you’ll be called back to LA?”

  He turned down the lake road, spitting up gravel. “Yes. Our last case didn’t go well, so the juice we had riding from the arrests last summer is drying up.”

  So did the spit in my mouth. Was he going to have to leave again? Maybe not if they signed a lease. “Where’s the possible new office?”

  He pulled into an unplowed lot fronting what used to be the spa. The wide windows hung like dark squares in the one-story brick building. “The place is pretty convenient and has exits at key locations, including out to the lake, in case we ever need to hunt by boat.” His gaze swept me. “Or escape via boat.”

  I punched him in the arm, and my knuckles instantly protested. “Funny.” Ignoring my dream for a cheap massage, I let hope flitter through me. If the ATF signed a lease, they’d have to stay for the duration. “What are you thinking? Ten or twelve year lease?”

  He chuckled, and the low sound wound right through my skin to warm me. “I can get six months, tops. We’ll have to reevaluate from there.”

  It was better than nothing. A heck of a lot better. I reached out and held his hand, feeling slightly like a dork but too happy to care. Aiden had great hands. Large, strong, and always warm. There were callouses on the pads of his fingers, making them slightly rough. Definitely masculine.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked as fat flakes fell lightly on the front window.

  “About Christmas and presents,” I lied. “You’re hard to buy for.”

  He cut the engine and let the snow envelop us in our own little world. “I have your present.”

  I perked up. “Really?”

  “Yep.” He settled back, overwhelming the seat.

  “Are you going to give me a hint?” I softened my voice as the silence pounded in and turned to face him, drawing one leg up beneath me and releasing the seatbelt.

  “Nope.” A smile flirted with his full mouth. In profile, he was solid angles and rugged Irish features.

  Curiosity, like always, rode me hard. But I also knew that Aiden wouldn’t tell me if he didn’t want to, so there was very little chance I could pry out information from him. How could I get access to his credit card records?

  “I paid cash,” he murmured lazily, still watching the snow dance on the building.

  I sucked in air. His ability to read my mind was sometimes frightening. “Whatever.”

  His smile widened. In a smooth motion, he twisted, grasped my hips, and lifted me over the console to land on his lap. The seat was already all the way back, but he pressed a lever, and the steering wheel rose, giving me more room. “Now we’re gonna talk about you not being where I expected to pick you up.”

  I rested my back against his door and kicked out my feet over the console, wriggling a little to get comfortable on his lap.

  His slight groan bubbled humor through me.

  “I might’ve acted a little recklessly,” I said, wondering if it were true. Wondering if I’d do the same thing again in the same situation. “I don’t take well to being bossed around.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he said. He tucked me closer and cupped my face in his wide palm.

  I sighed, leaning into his touch. “I might’ve irritated you, but I wasn’t stupid or reckless. I was in safe places and fully armed.” Then I chuckled. “You know those movies where the heroine runs into the dark forest after the killer? I always root for the killer. If she’s that dumb, he deserves a win.”

  Aiden laughed, his chest moving nicely against me. “Fair enough. I know you’re not stupid or reckless, and I’m sure you were aware and smart. Yet everyone needs somebody to watch their backs.” His voice lowered. “And I do adore your back.”

  His phone buzzed. We made some intricate maneuvers so he could drag it out from his jacket, which was beneath my ankles. Finally, he lifted it to his ear. “Devlin.”

  He changed. Went from playful and relaxed to alert and intense…in a heartbeat. “Got it. I’ll be there.” He ended the call, deftly lifted me back to my seat, and started the truck. “I have a meeting.”

  “No kidding.” I quickly buckled my belt as he flipped on the windshield wipers. “What’s going on?”

  He pulled out of the lot, turning the truck back toward town. “Our covers were blown in Portland, and Saber may have a line on how that happened. We’re working out of my cabin for now.” He exited the lake road and drove down the cheery middle of town, the holiday lights flashing across his lethal face. “I may be late tonight.”

  I hunkered down in my seat and tried not to beam at his assumption that he’d be staying over. We were totally figuring out this dating thing.

  Now. What to get him for Christmas?

  I had Aiden drop me off at my oldest sister’s home. Donna lived in a cute craftsman-style house in an older part of Timber City that she’d picked up for a dream price because of her job as a realtor. I found both Donna and my mom wrapping Christmas presents for the Elk’s Christmas children’s drive, and I dove right in. While I didn’t have the precise expertise of either of them, I was more than capable of ‘putting a finger here’ as they tied intricate bows.

  “How’s your Santa case going?” Donna asked absently, measuring the exact size of a green ribbon.

  I shrugged, admiring her white pants outfit. Donna was what could fondly be described as a clotheshorse, and I often found myself shopping for free in her closet. She was a few inches taller than me, and our coloring was different, but I still made some good finds. Unlike Tessa, Donna took after the Italian side of our family with her thick dark hair, stunning brown eyes, and dusky skin color.

  I, on the other hand, had brown curly hair, gray-green eyes, and skin that burned. I didn’t look like anybody in our family. Not really.

  Donna frowned at the ribbon. “Is that even?”

  Our mom tilted her head to the side and studied the ribbon as if the cure to cancer lived in the cut. “No. Just a bit more.” She sat back when Donna cut and then smiled. “That’s it.”

  The ribbon had
looked fine to me. I grinned at our mom. She wore black pants, a green sweater, and diamond earrings. She looked like an older version of Tessa with even more of an Irish complexion, and she had a slight brogue when her temper blew, which was rare. Our mother was special. Probably the strongest person I’d ever met. She was soft spoken, humorous, and managed the world with shrewd humility. She also didn’t ask for anything but respect and kindness, which were what every good mother deserved in this life.

  Her green eyes sparkled when she focused on me. “I heard Aiden is back in town.”

  “Yep,” I said. “Speaking of which, do you think Dad would like a new flannel for Christmas?”

  “He does love his flannels,” my mom said agreeably. “What are you going to give to Aiden?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m lost. Any ideas?”

  She pursed her lips. “No clue.” Then she deftly snipped more wrapping paper to cover a puzzle of frogs dancing on a cloud. “Please tell me you’re finished with the Santa murder case.”

  “Not yet.” I put my finger in the middle of the wrapping paper before asking, “Do you know a Sharon Smith?”

  “No,” Mom answered, trapping my finger. “I do know Florence, however. She was devastated when Bernie cheated on her.”

  So everybody knew about the breakup. “Do you know any of the details?”

  She swept her hand in the air. “Of course not. I heard the basics and ignored the rest. Gossip never does anybody good.”

  Gossip could actually do a lawyer a lot of good. But my mom didn’t just sound classy—she was classy. The woman truly disliked gossip. However, I had other sources, including my grandparents. While they were still classy, they also liked to keep their thumbs pressed on the pulse of the world around them.

  I tugged my finger free and looked at Donna. “Do you know Hoyt Forrest?”

  “Sure. I sold him his lake cabin,” she said, reaching for a box of what looked like Legos that would make cars. “Heard he lost it to the bank though.”