Mercy Kill_ A Mystery - Lori Armstrong [45]
“Sure, sweetie.”
Turnbull didn’t look up from his newspaper when he said, “Some of us are offended by the use of the term powwow in that context.”
“And some of us aren’t.”
“I forget you’re Indian.” He folded his newspaper and faced me. “So. I hear you’re running for sheriff.”
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s impolite to eavesdrop?”
“Oh, I didn’t hear it from listening to your conversation; I heard it at the post office about an hour ago.”
“You’re quite the man about town.”
“Like I said before, Eagle River County isn’t exactly a metropolis. So tell me, candidate Gunderson, what will you do differently as sheriff if you’re elected?”
“I’ll pursue every lead on a case, no matter how insignificant it might seem.”
“Even if there are extenuating circumstances?”
Puzzled by his cryptic comment, I looked at him. “If a crime occurs in the county, it’s the job of the sheriff’s department—specifically, the sheriff—to investigate to the end. Period. Extenuating circumstances have nothing to do with it.”
Mitzi appeared, setting a white bakery bag and a Styrofoam cup in front of him. “That’ll be three dollars and eighteen cents.”
Turnbull passed her a crisp five-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled, showing beautiful, straight white teeth. “You’re welcome.” He slid on his shades, grabbed his food, and stood. “See you around, Mercy.”
I don’t know what I’d hoped to accomplish with him, but that sure as hell wasn’t it.
Hope, Jake, and Sophie ambushed me the second I walked into the kitchen.
“You’re running for sheriff in Bill O’Neil’s place?” Hope demanded. “And you didn’t think to tell your family?”
Jake stared at me coolly, yet I could read him as clearly as if a cartoon bubble bounced above his head: You lasted less than a week a rancher. I can’t count on you.
Sophie came to my defense. “Leave her be. I’m sure Mercy had a good reason for keepin’ it to herself.”
I dropped into the closest chair. “The campaign committee only asked me last night. I was almost certain I’d tell them no today.”
“What happened to change your mind?”
“I stopped in the sheriff’s office, looking for a sign from Dad, or any kind of sign, really.” I let my gaze wander to the buck stops here plaque that’d always hung next to the sink. “When I was in Dawson’s office, I saw something that changed my mind. So in some ways it was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”
“And in other ways, it was what you were always destined to do,” Sophie said.
Was Sophie pleased or appalled by the prospect?
“Let’s celebrate.” Sophie dished up spice cake with maple frosting. Pie for breakfast. Cake for lunch. If I continued to stuff my face like this, I’d need to add more miles to my PT.
“Well, it’s good you’re here, because we need to talk,” Hope said.
I scraped the last of the cake crumbs onto my fork before I looked at my sister. “About?”
“About me—us—moving out.”
Jake froze. Sophie froze. Evidently this was news to them.
“Where would you go? You sold your trailer. The cabin is too small for all three of you to live in.”
Hope’s chin lifted; her eyes gleamed defiance. “Iris Newsome’s house has been sitting empty since we bought their land the first of the year.”
I couldn’t look at Jake. I knew he wasn’t looking at me.
“It’s a perfect solution,” Hope pointed out. “You can move back in here all by yourself, which is what you want. This place has always been more yours than mine.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is, especially since you redecorated the downstairs. It’s like I’ve been living in a stranger’s house.”
Ooh. That stung.
“Iris’s place is close, and it won’t affect Jake’s foreman duties.”
My gaze collided with Jake’s. “Did you know about this?”
“No.” Angrily, he pushed his chair back. He shot Sophie a dark look. “Was this your idea?”
Her black eyes snapped fire. “I will caution you to watch your tone, takoja.”
Jake was beyond upset. With good reason.
Hope had just opened a big ol’ can of worms. She had no idea our neighbor Iris Newsome had actually killed Levi,