Chapter 3
Russ had hoped to snag a table at the Kreemie Kakes Diner unnoticed in the lunchtime crush, but no one escaped Earla Davis’s eye. “Hello, stranger! Haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays. Where’s the reverend missus?”
“Home with the baby.” He scooted across a pleather banquette until he was next to the window. “Ethan’s not quite ready for dining out yet.”
“Yeah, nothing like a baby to put a damper on romantic meals for two.” She laid a stiff plastic menu on the table. “You here for a break?”
“I’m meeting up with—ah, here he comes.” The bell over the door tinkled as Lyle MacAuley, current acting chief of the MKPD, walked in.
Earla added a second menu to the first. “I’ll get you started with water and coffee, then.”
Lyle shucked his official parka and tossed it onto the other banquette. “You could have just come to the shop, you know.”
“And hello to you, too, sunshine.”
Lyle groaned as he slid across the table from Russ. “I have a pile of paperwork waiting for me.”
“You’ll always have a pile of paperwork waiting for you. Take my advice: get out of the office as much as you can.”
Lyle cocked one bushy gray eyebrow at him. “You do realize you’re a workaholic, right? I mean, clinically. You fit the definition.”
“Was a workaholic. Now I’m retired.”
Lyle snorted. “Stay-at-home dad. We’ll see how long that lasts.” He picked up a menu. “How are you doing? With all that.”
Russ slanted a smile. “That’s exactly what Knox asked me on Sunday.”
“Well, she’s a smart girl.” Lyle raised his hands. “Woman. She’s a smart woman.”
“You’re the boss, now, Lyle. You gotta set the example.”
His former deputy sighed. “I’m trying. This is not what I had planned for myself. Never wanted to be chief.”
“How’s the search going?”
“What search? Those idiots on the board of aldermen can’t even agree on the basic qualifications they’re looking for. Or at least that’s what I hear. Wouldn’t surprise me if they figure they can save a couple bucks by having me in the seat until I drop dead of a heart attack from the aggravation.”
Earla appeared with two glasses of water and a mug of coffee. “Know what you want, Chief?”
“I’m not the chief anymore, Earla.” Russ glanced at the specials board. “How’s the stew?”
“Better’n your Irish granny’s and piping hot.”
“Sounds perfect for a cold day. I’ll have that.”
She turned to Lyle. “How about you, hon?”
“I’ll take the burger platter. Medium well and hold the onions, please.” Lyle smiled winningly at the waitress. “Gives me a little gas.”
She giggled. “I promise I won’t tell no one, hon. Coffee?”
“If it smells as good as his, yes, ma’am.”
After she bustled off, Lyle pointed at Russ. “See, there’s the problem.”
“What? Onions?”
“You’re still here. In town. The last few chiefs all had the good sense to leave for Florida or Arizona when they retired. Nobody’s going to be ‘the chief,’” he used air quotes, “with you walking around.”
“You make it sound like I’m supposed to drop dead of the heart attack.”
“Plus, I’ll bet you cash money—which is what they’re most interested in—that the mayor and the board have in the back of their minds that if there’s a crisis, well, Russ is here to give us the benefit of his experience and maybe lend a hand.”
“Forget it. As far as I’m concerned, I crossed that bridge and burned it behind me.”
“Oh, yeah? So why did you want to get together for lunch? Miss my sparkling personality?”
Russ took off his glasses and cleaned a nonexistent smear with his napkin. “Has Knox asked you about Kevin?”
“Kevin Flynn? No. Why would she?” Earla reappeared with Lyle’s coffee.
He gave her another of his patented woman-killing smiles and she walked away giggling.
“Has she been in touch with him? Is he interested in coming back to the MKPD? The board won’t let me hire anyone without running it past them”—he rolled his eyes—“but Kevin I could probably get approved.”
“No, he hasn’t been in touch with her. Apparently, he hasn’t been in touch with anybody. I called the Syracuse captain three or four weeks ago, and he said Kevin’s gone out on personal leave. But his family hasn’t heard from him.”
“So? Maybe his personal leave is a five-foot-four blonde. I mean, we call him the kid, but he is a twenty-seven-year-old man.”
“Knox said he had Sunday dinner with the whole clan every week before he moved away.”
“Yeah, and I’m going to point out Kevin left very abruptly. He had the job offer, he thought about it for a week, and bam! He resigns and leaves town within twenty-four hours. Maybe he wanted to get away from the whole clan.”
Russ huffed. “Kevin? The same guy who volunteer coached the middle school track team and who hung out with Knox’s kids at my wedding?”
Lyle sighed. “Fair point. What do you want me to do?”
“Call Syracuse. See if anyone’s heard from him. Maybe he told somebody he worked with where he was going.”
“And you can’t do this because…?”
“As I keep telling everyone, I’m not the chief anymore. I’m not even a cop anymore.”
“No such thing as an ex-cop.”
“We’re not the marines, Lyle. Will you do it, or not?”
“Yeah, yeah. But you’re buying lunch.” He dug his phone out of his parka and swiped it open.
“City of Syracuse Police Department.” He looked at the results.
“Nice. Phone numbers for every division. No going through their version of Harlene.” The MKPD dispatcher ran both the phone lines and, in her own way, the rest of the force.
“They’ve got over four hundred officers and employees. I don’t think they have a Harlene.”
“In my experience, every workplace has a Harlene somewhere.” Lyle held up a finger.
“Hi, yes, this is Lyle MacAuley, acting chief of police for Millers Kill. I’m trying to get some information about a former employee of ours who lateraled over to you folks.
Name’s Kevin Flynn. I believe he was in your Special Investigations Division.
” He paused. “Sure.” He clamped a hand over the phone. “She’s bringing up his file.”
Earla appeared with their lunches on a tray. “Burger, medium, no onions, and a beef stew. Can I get you anything else?”
Russ demurred. Lyle picked up a french fry and hastily swallowed it as his contact came back on the line. “Yes. Yeah, that’s him. Yes, I know he went out on leave, I wanted—” There was a long pause. “Please.” He popped another fry in his mouth. “She’s transferring me to human resources.”
Russ blew on a spoonful of stew. “Maybe we should try calling—”
Lyle held up a finger. “Yes. This is Lyle MacAuley, acting chief over here in Millers Kill. The young lady I just spoke with said you would have some information about Kevin Flynn.” There was a pause.
Lyle smiled in a particularly cozening way.
“We have some questions about his retirement benefits we need to straighten out. We’re just a little-bitty shop, so the human resources department is either the chief or the second-in-command.
” He laughed. “I know, I know.” His face grew serious as he listened to the person on the other end of the line.
“Really.” There was another pause. “No, I was hoping you could tell me that. Was there anyone he particularly worked with over there?” Lyle removed the top of the bun and gestured to Russ to pass the ketchup.
“Yeah, I knew he had a lengthy undercover assignment.”
Russ unscrewed the top for him and handed it over.
“No, of course, I understand. There’s only so much you can do.
” Russ made a what the hell gesture. Lyle waved him off.
“No need to apologize. I appreciate you taking the time.” He paused.
“Absolutely. If we find out anything. Thank you.” He hung up.
“We’ll let them know if we find out anything? What’s that about?”
Lyle replaced the bun and picked up his burger. “They haven’t heard from Kevin since he took a one-month leave in October. If he doesn’t get in touch with them by the end of December, he gets administratively separated.” He took a bite.
“Does that mean what it sounds like?”
Lyle nodded and drew a finger across his throat. “Fired.”