The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [50]
I was in a fine mood. Hester noticed. “The case really tripped your trigger, didn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.” I smiled. It really was good to see her. “I’ll buy.”
“Wow, Houseman. This must be the case dreams are made of. It’s affected your mind.”
We put our coats on the chair backs, and hit the buffet line.
I gave in to my conscience, and had the grilled chicken plate, with whipped potatoes, peas, carrots, and a roll. $4.50. Hester just picked up a taco salad. $2.98. Less than $10.00. I was encouraged. Easily affordable. Not that I’m cheap …
Just as the food arrived, so did our favorite reporter, Nancy Mitchell. She’d been through a particular kind of hell on our last murder case. She’d not only witnessed a murder, she’d also been threatened and generally put through the wringer. Helping us out, at out request. We owed Nancy, and we owed her big-time.
“How’re my favorite cops?”
“Have a seat,” I said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Well, since you can’t provide any information, it was time to work on a feature article about the boat. And have a great lunch, at the same time.” She pulled out her chair.
“Lunch is on Carl,” said Hester. “Great to see you again.”
“I’d like you to meet Shamrock,” said Nancy. “She’s my photographer this week.”
“She’s welcome to join us, too,” said Hester, standing and reaching out her hand to the pretty blonde with the cameras. “I’m Hester Gorse, DCI, and this is Carl Houseman, Nation County. He’s buying lunch today.”
I stood, as well, and shook Shamrock’s hand. She was about twenty-two or -three, small, slight, and about as pretty a young woman as had graced Nation County in years. Really small, I noticed as I stood. More than a foot shorter than I was. Not more than ninety pounds, I’d guess. With camera. She looked like she was in junior high. Well, from my perspective, at any rate.
“Shamrock really your name?” Cops. We say things like that.
“Yours really Carl?” Big grin.
I was beginning to feel hemmed in. “I’m buying, cut me some slack.” I grinned, and sat back down.
She laughed. I sure hoped that she didn’t go the way of Nancy’s last photographer. Shamrock could grow on you.
“So, Nancy,” I said, “what brings you here?”
Nancy looked at Shamrock. “He just sounds that dumb. He’s really not.”
“You gotta take that on trust,” said Hester.
“Should I leave?” I asked.
“Not till the bill comes,” said Hester.
“The murders brought me to Maitland,” said Nancy.
“I hope you packed,” I said. “You’re gonna be here a while.”
Nancy glanced around. “Lamar going to join you?”
“No,” I said.
“Then I’ll stay,” she said, barely able to keep a straight face. “Wouldn’t want to make him mad … We’ll hit the line,” she said, “and be back in a second.”
Nancy came back with a taco salad. Shamrock appeared with a cheeseburger, cheese balls, and chocolate milk. Youth. Hers came to $4.50. Not too bad.
“So,” said Nancy. “How you two comin’ on this one?”
“Grinding it out,” I said. Instantly on guard. Nancy was, after all, the press. “And it’s not us two, either. Hester’s just having lunch with me … Really,” I said. “She’s on boat rotation.”
“Oh, sure,” said Nancy. “Then you haven’t told her of any of your great leaps of intuition this time?”
Hester laughed. “Now that you mention it …”
Thankfully, that got us off on what I would term “Houseman’s intuition,” intuition in general, and ended up with women’s natural intellectual superiority over men. It also got us to the end of the meal. Hester and I were engineering a graceful escape, when Nancy scored.
“So, before you two go running off, how come we were hearing that it was two cops that were killed in there?” She knew she had us. I could tell, because she was still seated as we were standing. She knew we weren’t going anywhere. The carrot had been dangled.
We sat back down. “Where did you hear that?” I must have looked interested or something. A crack in the poker face.
“Well, first from a neighbor down the road. Then from an older man at the Borglan place.”
Unfortunately, we all now ordered dessert. Another $9.00