Читать книгу The Police Chief's Lady - Jacqueline Diamond, Lori Copeland, Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 8

From his office window, Ethan glanced across Tulip Tree Avenue at a couple of dog walkers making their way through the central square known as The Green. On a Monday morning, the center of Downhome spread placidly before him. To his left, a dairy truck turned south at the intersection of Tulip Tree and Home Boulevard; across the street next to The Green, a couple of workmen emerged from Pepe’s Italian Diner with cups of steaming coffee.

The town didn’t appear a likely setting for a crime wave. And by city standards, the recent reports of petty thefts seemed tame. Still, Ethan found something disturbing about the reports on his desk.

“You wanted to see me?” Captain Ben Fellows, the top-ranking officer below Ethan, appeared in his doorway. Unofficially, Ben filled the role of assistant chief. A few years older than Ethan and with fifteen years on the force, he’d been in the running for the top job four years ago, but didn’t seem to resent having been passed over.

“Yes. Is Mark with you?”

“Right here” came the voice of Lieutenant Mark O’Bannon, who supervised detectives and traffic in the small department.

Ethan gestured them into seats. His office provided enough space for a few visitors as well as a bookcase, file cabinet and computer station. As for the decor, his mother, Annette, a part-time interior designer and part-time baby-sitter, had picked out the cream paint and subtle green-and-cream print curtains. He’d retained the former chief’s oversize desk, with its accumulated scars, as a tribute to departmental tradition.

“This latest report—that makes three cases,” Ethan noted. “I’d say it rules out family and friends of the victims, which means we could be dealing with a serial criminal. The fact that no one’s been hurt and property loss is minimal doesn’t change the reality that these crimes are invasive and threatening by their very nature. What do you think?”

Mark, the twenty-eight-year-old son of council member Rosie O’Bannon, deferred instinctively to Captain Fellows. Ethan was also eager to hear Ben’s insight, since the man served as pastor at the Community Church and knew the citizenry better than anyone.

“Frankly, it’s a new one on me.” Ben scratched his head. “Someone slipping into houses and stealing family portraits off the wall is weird. And I agree, somewhat scary because it seems like a hostile thing to do. The guy might have the potential for violence, especially if someone stumbles across him.”

“At first, I figured it was a prank,” Mark noted. “I assumed the photos would turn up soon.”

“We can rule that out at this point,” Ethan said. “The stories in the paper have made it clear how distressed the victims are.”

The first case had been reported a month ago. A woman returning from a shopping trip had noticed a family photo missing from her living room wall but assumed her husband had taken it down. Only when she’d asked him about it that night and learned otherwise had she remembered leaving a side door unlocked. When she’d called the cops, they’d found a couple of leaves tracked inside but no real evidence.

In the second theft, two weeks later, a retired couple had been puzzled by the absence of their favorite photo and distressed a few days later when they realized it hadn’t simply been mislaid by the cleaning lady. The group portrait, which was irreplaceable, included a son who’d been killed in military action.

The latest case involved Pepe Otero, who owned Pepe’s Italian Diner, although his family had immigrated from Argentina. Since he lived over the restaurant, he frequently left his apartment unlocked. The previous night, he’d lost a picture of himself and his three kids in their younger years, a scene from which he’d had the image of his ex-wife digitally removed.

“Maybe Connie took it,” he’d told Ethan that morning when he filed the report. “She’s still mad at me, even though it was her who got tired of living in a small town. Maybe she sneaked in and swiped it.”

“Why would she?” Ethan asked. “She’s been gone for years.”

“Who else would take it?” Pepe had replied, and had been surprised to learn his was the third such theft. He admitted he rarely had time to read the weekly Downhome Gazette.

“We’re already pursuing the investigation,” Mark said. “What else should we do?”

“I’ll ask the paper to issue a warning,” Ethan answered. “I don’t want to make people panic, but they need to take this seriously and keep their doors and windows locked.”

“You want me to call Barry?” Ben was referring to the editor of the Gazette, Karen Lowell’s brother.

“I’ll handle it,” Ethan said. “However, I want to get your feedback first. You’ve both lived here longer than I have. Does anyone come to mind as a possible suspect? I’d like your gut feelings.”

Mark cleared his throat. “This probably isn’t relevant.”

“Let’s hear it.”

The young lieutenant folded his arms. “I stopped by the beauty shop to see Mom maybe six weeks ago and this guy named Arturo dropped by. He’s dating Helen, the manicurist.”

“Arturo Mendez?” Ben asked. “We’ve had some trouble with him. Minor stuff—mutual combat with other kids, graffiti, that kind of thing. He’s about nineteen.” Without being asked, he filled in. “Barely made it through high school, although he’s a talented artist. Does odd jobs around town and tries to sell his paintings where he can.”

“He seemed ticked off about this picture my mom has on the wall of her, me and Dad.” Mark’s father had died when he was young. “He made a crack about smug people who think they’re better than everybody else. Mom started clicking her scissors like she wanted to give him a haircut he’d never forget. Helen shooed him out of there in a hurry.”

“Does Arturo have a history of breaking and entering?” Ethan inquired.

Ben shook his head. “No, but he can be destructive. We made him repaint the back of the feed store after he covered it with graffiti. Archie said he liked the bright colors. Still, he couldn’t leave those four-letter words out there.”

“What about a search warrant,” Mark suggested. “We might find those photos at his apartment.”

“All we have are suspicions, not evidence,” Ethan said. “You can’t get a search warrant with that.”

“And if he’s not our culprit, seeing his house turned upside-down might push a mildly antisocial young man over the edge,” Ben pointed out.

“Agreed.” Ethan considered the matter. “Let’s do a little low-key sniffing around. Mark, drop into the beauty shop and encourage Helen to talk about her boyfriend. Ben, if Arturo tries any other funny stuff, that might give us a reason to check his place.”

Heads nodded. Ethan made a mental note to take stock of Arturo as soon as he found an unobtrusive way to do so. He wanted to assess the fellow for himself.

The two men left. Ethan would have preferred to spend the rest of this sunny June morning cruising the area to identify potential problems and become better acquainted with the citizenry. However, paperwork kept him behind his desk.

Half an hour later, he was contemplating fixing a third cup of coffee, when Amy Arroyo, who doubled as his secretary and as records clerk, wandered in wearing a puzzled expression. “Chief, Dr. Vine is here to see you. She’s in the lobby.”

Although he knew the doctor was scheduled to arrive today, Ethan hadn’t expected a visit. “This is a surprise.”

“Shall I show her in?”

“I’ll do it, thanks.” He got to his feet.

“I thought they were going to hire that doctor with the three kids,” the secretary said as she ambled into the hall. Although much of the town buzzed over every morsel of gossip, Amy lived in a world of her own.

“You didn’t read the article last week?” Barry Lowell had described Jenni in glowing terms, omitting any mention of her questionable past. Having once been convicted of a crime he swore he hadn’t committed, Barry—no doubt with Karen’s encouragement—obviously intended to give the newcomer plenty of leeway.

“My copy of Scientific American arrived last week. I didn’t have time to read anything else,” Amy admitted as she wandered off.

Ethan passed Ben’s office and the detective bureau, then opened the lobby door and saw Jenni. Against the tinted windows, she resembled a ray of sunshine with her short blond hair.

“Dr. Vine.” He thrust out his hand as he strode forward. “Welcome to Downhome.”

“Thank you.” She shook firmly.

She’d seemed giddier the last time they met. Today her chin had a resolute set and she held herself with military straightness.

“What can I do for you?” Ethan asked.

“May I speak to you alone?”

“Of course.” He held the door, noticing a light citrus scent as she breezed by. The desk officer gave her a big smile. When Jenni returned it, the fellow brightened as if she’d just made his day. Ethan suspected she had that effect on a lot of men.

For some reason, he remembered the night more than ten years ago in a Nashville country music bar when he’d first seen Martha perform. With her long chestnut hair, vivid face and soulful voice, she’d seemed utterly enchanting and unattainable. He would never have believed she could become his wife. Or that once he had her, he could lose her to cancer.

He shook his head, annoyed at the memory for intruding at this inappropriate moment. “My office is around to the left.” He wasn’t sure what made him add, “Ever been in a police station before?”

“I try to avoid them,” the doctor replied.

Her flame-colored suit smoldered against the subdued hues of his office. Instead of sitting, Jenni walked to the window and surveyed the downtown. “Great view.”

“I like it.” He remained standing. This was not, Ethan gathered, a social visit.

She turned. “I prefer to get things out in the open. I can’t stand when people talk behind my back, and I’m sure you would feel the same way.”

“If something’s bugging you, shoot.” He had a suspicion this outburst stemmed from the insulting remark Karen had overheard. Although he was willing to apologize, Ethan decided to let Jenni make the first move.

“First of all, I perfectly understand why you might prefer the other candidate. In your position, I’d probably have supported him myself,” she said.

Ethan kept silent.

“As for the slander that was spread about me in L.A., you should have asked for my side of the story.”

“The medical director told me you’d denied it and that the board took no action against you. I conveyed that information to the council,” Ethan explained.

She released a sharp breath. “But first you repeated that whole ugly business. Why?”

“It was my job. If I mishandled the situation, I apologize.”

“You don’t approve of me, do you?” she said coolly.

Ethan was caught off guard, perhaps because she’d hit on the truth. “I don’t know you.”

“You’re being evasive.” A death grip on her purse strap revealed her tension.

“You didn’t make a very favorable impression last month,” he conceded. “Perhaps I judged too quickly.”

“You don’t have to like me.” Jenni faced him squarely. “But you’re part of the establishment in Downhome and I don’t want to feel as if I have to watch my back whenever you’re around. I especially don’t want to have to watch it when you’re not around.”

Ethan found the implication insulting. “If you’re paranoid about authority figures, don’t take that out on me.”

“When someone objects to your high-handed behavior, do you always dismiss it as paranoia?” she returned.

They glared at each other across the office. Unwillingly, Ethan found himself admiring the woman’s gumption.

She’d originally struck him as a fluffy California blonde. Now he’d have to describe her as a fierce, fluffy California blonde, if such a creature existed.

Ethan wondered what it took to warm up those blue-gray eyes and why none of the millions of men in L.A. had given her a reason to stay. Suddenly, Downhome had become a more interesting place to live. But not necessarily a more comfortable one.

He needed to defuse the situation. Mildly, he said, “I should know better than to argue with a doctor. Particularly using a medical term like paranoia. I take that back,”

“Do you ever smile?” Jenni asked. “I mean really smile, not just twitch the corners of your mouth?”

He blinked in surprise. “All the time. At home, anyway.”

“I admire your wife if she has that effect on you.”

Ethan didn’t care to discuss Martha with Jenni. “I have a five-year-old son,” he said. “Naturally, he’s a brilliant wit.” Simply mentioning Nick lightened his mood. “He has a gift for making me laugh.”

“That’s better.” She relaxed her grip on her purse strap.

“What is?”

“When you mentioned your little boy, you gave evidence of containing actual human DNA.” she quipped.

A strange thing happened to Ethan then. He chuckled. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how rarely he did that around anyone aside from Nick. “I’ll have to be careful around you.”

“Why?” Jenni asked.

“You’re smarter than you—” He stopped.

“Smarter than I look?” Her voice held a challenge. “Believe me, I’ve heard that before.” She seemed rueful rather than angry. “It’s amazing the way some students assume a medical school must have accepted a blonde based on her sex appeal.”

“What did you do about it?”

“I kicked their gluteus maximus on exams,” Jenni returned. “It wasn’t easy, since I’m no genius. You can accomplish miracles if you study like a maniac and forgo a social life.”

She hadn’t mentioned needing to work. Perhaps her parents had paid the bills, but Ethan could hardly hold that against her. “I’d say you just kicked my gluteus maximus, figuratively speaking,” he said. “Coming here took guts.”

It was her turn to smile. “You’re a good sport.”

“How about a truce?”

Jenni released a long breath. Apparently, she’d been prepared for a rougher reception. “Fine. Live and let live.”

Ethan became aware that he’d instinctively shifted toward her. If he wasn’t careful, he might start flirting, he realized with a jolt.

He eased back, trying not to be obvious. Although he didn’t completely dismiss the possibility that Jenni had had an affair with her patient’s husband, he could see why Karen and Olivia believed her.

“There is one matter I wanted to mention,” he said.

“Oh?” She withdrew into caution again.

Being rich and gorgeous must be tougher than he’d thought if it produced such a strong defensive mechanism.

“Have a seat.” Ethan wanted to put their meeting on a more neighborly basis. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks.” She perched on the edge of a chair.

He helped himself to a mugful from the pot atop a low file cabinet. “When did you get into town?”

“This morning.”

“You came to my office first thing? You must really have been steamed.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I’m not sure my wheels touched the ground on the way from Nashville. I don’t like the idea of being put under a microscope.”

“Fair enough. In fact, from now on, you have leave to put me under a microscope. Turnabout’s fair play, right?”

Her expression turned to one of mingled amusement and embarrassment.

“What did I say?” he inquired. “You have the funniest look on your face.”

This time she blushed deep red. “I was wondering who you use as your personal physician.”

Now he understood. If he became one of her patients, that would mean getting examined in a very intimate manner.

Ethan hoped his discomfort didn’t show as clearly as hers. “Fortunately for both of us, I have a doctor in Nashville. I make appointments when I take my son in. He’s diabetic,” he added.

“I see. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” She folded her hands in her lap.

“There is, but not with Nick.” Ethan finished stirring his coffee and settled behind the desk. “There’s a public health project I’ve been trying to get under way for the past year, but it ran into some snags.” He’d mentioned this during her visit, but since she hadn’t responded, he chose to try again.

“Why is a police chief concerned with public health?” Jenni asked.

“It’s outreach—a form of crime prevention.” Inside a drawer, Ethan found the folder full of reference articles he’d saved, along with his comments. “I’ve been trying to talk the city council into funding a pilot project, but they don’t see the benefits. So I figured you and I could prove to them how great the need is.”

“There’s no funding?” She frowned.

He bit back the urge to point out that investing some unreimbursed time in her new community wouldn’t kill her, especially considering that she could obviously afford a small fortune for designer clothes. “Not yet,” he admitted.

“You realize we’d require materials?” Jenni probed. “I presume we’re talking about vaccinations and so forth?”

“Right now, I’m more interested in assessing medical needs and educating people about everything from child development to gun safety.” Ethan had been mulling the subject over since he’d returned to Downhome. “We’d make referrals rather than provide on-the-spot care.”

“‘We’?” she said.

“I’d need to accompany you, since we’d be visiting the less savory part of town.” He hadn’t viewed that part of the project as problematic until now.

“You could use this as a chance to snoop into people’s homes,” Jenni noted none too happily

“That’s not my motive.” Still, since she’d mentioned it, he wouldn’t mind paying Arturo Mendez a visit.

“Listen, Chief…”

“Ethan,” he corrected.

“Okay, Ethan,” Jenni said.

“May I call you by your first name?”

“Would you let me finish, please?”

He sat back, properly chastened. “Shoot.”

“First of all, I just got here. I haven’t even talked to my nursing staff or met my patients. It’s way too soon to contemplate a new project.”

“We could wait a few weeks. I realize I’m pushing hard, but I’ve run into delay after delay and I’m growing impatient.” Ethan could see that this approach wasn’t working, so he switched to a different one. “I’d like to get rolling this summer so kids don’t enter kindergarten and first grade with untreated health problems.”

“In addition,” Jenni continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I ran into trouble at my last position because I tried to help a patient outside a clinical setting. Which reminds me that, considering my reputation as a home wrecker, I wouldn’t want to spend too much time alone with a married man.”

“A married man?” He recalled her comment about his wife. “Oh, I’m single.”

She thought it over. “Still, gossips can make mountains out of molehills.”

He pretended to be perplexed. “Meaning?”

“You and me. Some people could read implications into it. Heaven knows why.”

“Yes, heaven knows why.” Aside from the fact that the air between us hums like a tuning fork.

“You’re smiling,” Jenni said. “That was an attempt at humor, right?”

Ethan drew himself up as if offended. “I was not smiling. That was my poker face.”

“Take my advice, Chief. If you want to play cards, stick to Go Fish.” She rose. “Sorry to disappoint you about the outreach, but I can’t handle it right now. If you’ll excuse me, my staff is expecting me.”

He didn’t press the point. As matters stood, they’d simply opened negotiations. He could wait a while and try again.

When they shook hands again, Ethan found himself enjoying the contact much more than he should have. “I’ll say one thing for you. You make a good sparring partner.”

“Since you oppose violence, I’m sure you’ll want to give me a wide berth,” Jenni retorted.

“That would be my preference. However, it’s a small town,” he teased.

She shot him a look. “I’m sure we can manage to keep our distance.”

Ethan felt a twinge of disappointment. “Of course. But they say distance is relative.”

He escorted her to the lobby. A weathered farmer filling out an accident form at the front desk spotted the newcomer. “Ma’am.” He swept the baseball cap off his head.

“Good morning. I’m Dr. Vine,” she replied cheerfully.

“You’re the new doctor? I feel better already,” the old fellow replied gallantly. “I mean, I feel sick. How about an appointment?”

She laughed. “I never realized Southern men were so courteous. Men in L.A. don’t remove their hats and they hardly ever pay compliments.”

“They’re durn fools,” the farmer observed. “Guess I’ll be visiting you about my arthritis soon. Just remembered my wife’s been nagging me to get some medicine.”

“I’ll be glad to help.”

When she went out, the man gripped the edge of the desk as if his knees had gone weak. To Ethan, he said, “She’s really the doctor?”

“Yes, she is.”

“And you wanted to hire some fella, instead? You ain’t as smart as I thought you were, Chief.” The farmer returned to his form.

Ethan felt as if he’d just lost a battle. He wasn’t entirely sorry, either.