Chapter 6
Chapter Six
AIDEN
I take a deep breath as I step outside. The sky is bright despite clouds covering the sun. I squint a little. It’s a fresh spring day with only a hint of humidity in the air.
Tinsley exits behind me. It’s impossible not to have a keen awareness of her and not only because of the clicking of her high heels. She’s tall and slender but doesn’t take up a ton of space, yet she has a formidable presence.
This woman could enter a room full of people and not have to announce herself. All eyes would draw her way. Attention would shift to focus on her. I can see why she flew in the celebrity crowd. The camera must love her.
Speaking of crowds...I stop in my tracks when my sisters, Mae and Bess, along with their gentlemen, Taylor and Cassian respectively, stand on the sidewalk along with Louella Belle, Bo, Christina, Buck, Camellia, and Nash.
They’re either celebrating my freedom or ready to run me out of town with pitchforks.
“I could’ve really used the get out of jail free card a few hours ago.” Stopping abruptly in front of them, I jolt slightly forward. Tinsley bumps into me. I turn around to make sure she’s okay when I catch Mae launching missiles at close range. Strangely, she looks at Tinsley with the same amount of contempt as she did at me. Bess follows suit.
They all look grim and grumbly.
“Is this an anti-welcome party?”
Mae crosses her arms over her chest and they rest on her very pregnant belly. Ordinarily, I’d joke about whether she uses it as a tray, but now is not the time. I stepped in something and it wasn’t by the dog park.
“What did you expect?” she asks.
“Is this about the cat?”
“This is about you cavorting with the enemy,” she hisses.
“I can explain.” But because we’re outside the police station, I add, “Just not here.”
“Oh, you’ll be explaining,” Bess adds with a look that could melt steel.
“I promise you, it’s not as bad as it seems.”
Mae grunts. “No, it just got impossibly worse.”
I don’t blame my sisters for giving me the stink eye. Not sure about the beef the others have with me other than pretending to change alliances and working my way into the mayor’s good graces. Plus, Taylor and I are like brothers. I’m also friends with Nash. I know everyone. But does anyone actually know me? That’s something I don’t think about. If I could actually explain my agent status, they’d understand my situation. Only, I can’t because I vowed never to put anyone I care about at risk. Keeping my profession private is for their protection.
I move closer to them on the sidewalk, intending to put a little space between us and the police station. “Listen, I know what it looked like when you saw me in the town hall with Stoll and how I’ve been working with him.”
“You’re no better than Les Streckle,” Mae says, glancing at Christina.
She nods as if agreeing.
“A slippery, slimy, backstabbing cat thief,” Mae adds.
I could be ticked off, feeling backed into a corner, but I’ve been in so many different types of high-pressure situations, I’ve learned the surest ways to diffuse them without losing my cool. Most of the time. Cute cats usually help.
I pump my hands. “Slow down. Will you give me a chance and let me tell my side of the story?”
“I’ll listen,” Louella Belle says. “But if you do anything to ruin Butterbury I’ll personally see to it you end up back in there.” She points to the police station.
Louella Belle is about the same height as Mae, which is to say snack-sized, but I don’t doubt that she’d make good on the threat.
Bo, Buck, and Nash form a wall of muscle as if to back her up.
“We’ve all been through a lot here in Butterbury and seeing as I’m also a resident and property owner, I assure you nothing I’ve done will ruin the town like Stoll tried to do several times over. In fact, I was the one instrumental in stopping him. We all were.”
Christina and Camellia exchange a glance as if to say that I have a point.
“Maybe you got power hungry and are trying to usurp Stoll and take the throne for your own,” Bess says dramatically. She lives in a castle now so this isn’t entirely surprising.
“I’m not a monarch nor do I have any intention of lording over anyone.” I lower my voice and indicate they gather close. “Stoll and I had locked horns too many times to count. I wasn’t making progress, so I decided to change my approach. Butter him up as it were.” That’s entirely true, but not exclusively for the reasons they’d assume. After I discovered his dealings with the governor, I had to get intel and fast.
Mae rocks back on her heels and narrows her eyes, studying me.
Bess nods slowly as if she’s slightly closer to believing me than our little sister.
The guys shrug like it makes sense. The other ladybosses seem to agree.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Bess asks.
“I don’t have a good reason other than that y’all have been busy with your respective projects and partners.” I didn’t think before I spoke, but this is also entirely true.
With all of them paired off, I’m the last man standing. The sole bachelor. I can’t claim to be jealous, but it’s hard not to notice how happy they all are...well, except right now. They’re not too pleased with me.
Preoccupied with this colossal dumpster fire of a confrontation, I catch Taylor’s gaze. Forget missiles, the guy’s glare is nuclear...and it’s aimed at me as well as the figure in a sequined dress standing just left of my six.
There is a tiny, yet important, detail that only reaches me now, on this side of freedom.
If I remember correctly, Taylor and Tinsley have a past. Not a sordid one and not a particularly involved one...unless there’s someone else named Tinsley. Likely not. She was instrumental during the period we call his “Midlife Blues.” And it wasn’t all musical. She was one of the reasons he took a break from the band and decided to come home—the attention was too much. From fans and from her. In fact, I had some choice words to remind him that she was a manipulative, lying, cheater—not that I knew that last part for sure. All I heard were his routine complaints about a woman named Tinsley. I never met her but slim chance there are two Tinsleys.
I clear my throat, and say, “Everyone, this is Tinsley—”
“I know,” Mae and Taylor say in unison. Though it’s more of a gnashing and grinding sound than regular speech.
“Tinsley, you’ve met Taylor and Mae, I belatedly realize.” To say I was distracted by her bombshell beauty, not to mention the case, is an understatement and not something I feel too good about. “Mae is my sister and Taylor is one of my oldest friends. Meet Louella Belle, she’s a Butterbury local, born and raised along with Bo, her husband.”
“Hey, you’re Mr. Fix-It,” Tinsley says, body angled away from Mae and Taylor as if she thinks by not facing them, she can avoid them. Not likely in this small town.
Forget a dumpster fire. This is a flaming cesspool of discomfort.
Bo’s stony nod suggests he picks up on the general vibe of the situation.
“Louella Belle, Christina, Camellia, and Mae are the ladybosses.”
“From Designed to Last. I love that show.” The bubbly tone Tinsley tries for pops with each word.
“Yep. Then you remember Buck from the Easton Estate makeover. He and Christina are married. Camellia and Nash fixed up the inn on Main Street just down there.”
“The Christmas special was so romantic. Congratulations.” Tinsley smiles warmly.
“Thank you,” Camellia says.
Mae elbows her.
“And this is Bess, my other sister, and her husband Cassian. They’re the latest and greatest additions to the town.”
He’s ex-military and is aware that I’m not the jet-setting lover boy I make myself out to be. He also made it clear he doesn’t want to know more than that—about my job and love life. I’ve had a few flings. More than a few. But the longer I’ve been in Butterbury, the more I want to linger. To settle down. To grow roots. No one knows that and probably assumes the worst about Tinsley and me exiting the jail together.
This crew is my real-life family, so I don’t want to do anything to mess it up. But I also have a duty to my country and the two cannot overlap.
“This is like a who’s who of Butterbury,” Tinsley says.
I spread my arms grandly. “They’re the best. Can I buy y’all pie and we can talk some more?”
“Don’t try to butter us up like you did with Stoll,” Mae says.
Bess lengthens her spine. “We cannot be buttered.”
I brush my hand across my forehead. “Guys, I was just in jail. I’m hungry.”
“Speaking of, what about the cat?” Christina asks.
“The cat is fine,” I answer.
“So you admit to stealing it?” Christina gasps.
I open and close my mouth then whisper. “I rescued it.”
Mae pokes me in the chest. “Aiden Peter Fuller, you better come clean about the cat and everything else.”
That’s a tall order and I’d like to. But I can only give them some info and it’ll be best done over the ultimate peacemaker, pie.
And the Starlight Diner across the street has the best crust and filling anywhere. Time to lay down the law.
“If you didn’t notice, I was just in jail. I’m going to get a slice of pie. Maybe some biscuits and gravy too. Anyone that would like to join me and have a civil conversation is welcome,” I say.
Mae and Bess exchange a look of surprise as if they’ve never heard me speak with such authority before. And that’s because, in front of them, I only show my farm boy self, the funny side. The practical joker and hard worker. They’ve never witnessed the motorcycle maverick and for good reason.
I gesture for Tinsley to join us if only because I have a feeling she may also need to explain herself.
“I’ll only go if she doesn’t,” Mae says, arms still folded defiantly.
I gently drop my hand onto her shoulder. “Given the history there, I’d ordinarily go along with that, but as it is, you’re stuck with both of us. Officer Henley sentenced us to thirty days of community service at Bubba’s.”
“Together?” Mae asks.
“That’s what I asked,” Tinsley mutters.
Christina rubs her palms rapidly like this is exciting news rather than hard work. “Bubba’s is in desperate need of some TLC.”
“I was going to say some DTL as in Desperate Loving Care,” Camellia says.
“I definitely think we should encourage a new expression, making DTL synonymous with TLC, considering that’s the status of most of our projects on the show,” Christina says.
“I like it,” Camellia adds.
Their laughter is a welcome snip to the tension.
Tinsley trails behind on the short walk to the Starlight. I open the door, holding it until she passes through. With the sequins on her dress sparkling like mermaid scales and with her big brown eyes, she looks like a fish out of water—though she could probably walk a red carpet with no problem.
“Welcome to the Starlight Diner,” I say. “Rhondy and Paul, Cassian’s parents, own it and are the best baker and cook in the county.”
“The country,” Mae says giving me a sharp side eye as she brushes past.
My nerves settle at the familiar sweet and savory scent of the Starlight. Since Mae lives in the old family farmhouse and I’m not yet done building my house, I currently consider this place home.
Notably, a pair of older women with poofy white hair occupy the table where Stoll usually holds court. The guy eats no less than three slices of pie per day, which is significant even though it’s the best stuff in the country. I’m just going to agree with Mae from now on.
Even though I teased and pranked her when we were younger, it was in good fun. This is next-level sibling animosity and I can’t take it.
There are twelve of us so there’s no way we can fit into a booth. Instead, we fit several tables together toward the back of the restaurant. Better to talk in private.
Rhondy brings over a stack of menus, not that we need them. Her smile is smaller than usual and she gives me a once-over as if she too knows about the cat. I’m going to have to work on my burglary skills. Thing is, usually, I’m the one trying to stop crime. Though this investigation is a long game and I have to play my hand carefully.
Paul, the cook, calls from the kitchen window, “Hey, Aiden. Why will you never find a farmer in jail?”
Cassian leans his elbow on the table and rubs his eyes as if he’s heard this dad joke a hundred times.
“Because a farmer can always make bale.” Paul chuckles.
I do the same because I’m not above cheesy jokes.
Tinsley presses her lips together as if she too wants to laugh but isn’t sure it would be welcome here. I notice she sits on the edge of her seat as if ready to run at a moment’s notice.
Rhondy goes around the table and takes orders. When she gets to Mae, seated to my right, they confer in hushed tones. My sister’s gaze flits to me a few times.
“New beard?” Bess comments from one seat over from Tinsley who sits on my left.
I rub my hand along my jaw, but it’s more contemplative than anything. How will I get them to trust me again? “It’s less beard and more of a I-haven’t-had-a-chance-to-shave-in-a-few-days situation.”
“I hear the plumbing is coming along at your new place,” Buck says.
We talk construction for a moment before my attention snaps to the two women to my left.
“So, it would seem you’ve met my brother,” Bess says as if standing in for Mae. “He was instrumental in helping to save our town, and then he turned around and stabbed us in the back.”
“A stabbing? Is that why you were actually in jail?” Tinsley asks, eyes wide with horror.
“No, he stole a cat,” Bess says.
“I didn’t steal Twinky. I thought we established that I rescued her.”
“Did you stab Twinky?” Bess asks, eyes now as wide as Tinsley’s.
I drag my hand down my face. “No, I didn’t stab a cat.” My tone drops with irritation that they’d think that. Then again, they don’t know that my real job is dangerous and often involves weapons.
“Then where is she?” Accusation riddles Mae’s voice who jumps in on the conversation.
“She’s safe and sound.” I clap my hands together. “Listen, no one is leaving this table until you hear me out so we can put this misunderstanding behind us once and for all.” I glance over my shoulder to make sure Stoll isn’t back. “Nash, please keep your eyes on the door and let me know if Stoll walks in. I have a lot to say.”
“Got it,” he answers.
“And you’d better have a really good reason that you were cavorting with the enemy.” Mae cuts her eyes at me again. I have a feeling the harsh punishment from my fun-loving sister is revenge for the many times Taylor and I pranked her—thought we were past that. I make a mental note to bring her some M&Ms and have a conversation during which I beg forgiveness for not being a better brother. But that’s for another time.
“I was not cavorting. That would imply that I was frolicking around when in fact, you and the ladybosses were the ones cavorting that night at the town hall.”
“We weren’t cavorting. We were spying,” Camellia interjects.
“Exactly. I’d like to point out that if any laws were being broken, it was by the four of you.” I point at the ladybosses.
Bess raises her hand. “Five. I was there too.”
“You’re not supposed to confess,” Mae hisses.
“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now,” Bess says.
“Please don’t tell me the cat is in the bag,” Christina says from the other end of the table.
I puff my cheeks on a breath. This is going to be a long conversation. I shoot Tinsley a look of apology but am glad she’s here because even though I’m taking the roundabout route, I want to hear how she figures into this story or if she knows anything that can help me identify the mastermind behind all of Stoll, Harold Jerrold Pumanowksi, Mayor Pickering, and Silas Fallon’s wrongdoings.
“There is no cat in a bag. The cat is—” I exhale as Rhondy sets a plate of peach pie with lattice crust in front of me. A perfect scoop of vanilla bean ice cream melts on the plate. “Thank you.”
“Figured you might need a little energy for this mission. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long one.” She winks.
Leave it to Rhondy to sense what’s going on without knowing the details. The woman is always in the right place at the right time with the right pie. Peach is my favorite.
“Okay, so you ladybosses broke into the town hall the night of Cassian’s surprise birthday party,” I say around a bite.
No one disagrees.
“Officially, it was a stakeout,” Bess says.
“Why are you confessing?” Mae scolds.
“Because we’ve had enough of Gatlin’s dictatorship.”
This time, everyone agrees.
“In the cover of darkness, we crept over to the town hall. The light in Gatlin’s office was on and dim shadows passed behind the blinds,” Bess’s voice is low like she’s telling a spooky story.
“We climbed in through an open window,” Camellia says proudly.
“I kept lookout,” Mae says.
“Me too, Christina adds.
“You didn’t do a very good job,” I mutter.
Rhondy brings everyone’s meals as Bess continues in a lowered voice, “We heard Gatlin say, ‘They’ll never see it coming.’ Then a very familiar voice replied, ‘With all due respect, sir, I do think they’ll see a bullet train coming. It’s not exactly small or stealthy.’ Then Gatlin said something about everything being signed by the end of the week.”
I remember the conversation well. “Then he added, ‘ Goodbye, Small town with a big heart. Hello, big bucks .’” And I still cannot figure out what he meant because the bullet train thing was a decoy...unless it wasn’t. But I haven’t found any evidence of him dealing with a bullet train company. It was a rumor he started to take attention away from what he was really intending to do along the coastline.
Almost imperceptibly, Cassian’s eyes flick to mine.
If only I could tell them what we both know—that I’d gathered intel that our nuclear submarine base was at risk. Cassian was instrumental in stopping it from falling into the hands of the enemy.
“And if you recall, I advised Stoll that he’d be breaking several laws,” I say. “Much like you did when you broke into the town hall.”
“Laws shmaws,” Mae says, unknowingly repeating what Stoll said in response.
“What’s a shmaw?” Tinsley whispers.
Camellia snaps her fingers. “My question exactly.”
“Then the door flew open and you were standing there,” Bess says.
“Yes, I know. I was there.”
“Then you can explain what Gatlin meant when he said, ‘I’ll be long gone by the time anyone does anything. I finally get my payday and can wash my hands of this pathetic town.’”
In the commotion, I must’ve missed that comment.
“If you haven’t noticed, he’s not in Butterbury,” Buck says from the other end of the table.
“Any idea when he left?” I ask.
Bo leans back in his chair. “I last saw his convertible at the intersection of Route Seventeen two days ago.”
That would’ve been shortly after I went to LA.
“What time?” I ask.
“Shortly before eight am,” Bo answers.
“Which direction was he going?”
“He was heading south.”
“South,” I repeat.
“You sound like you’re conducting an investigation,” Mae says.
I am, sis. I am.
“For the record, we were at the town hall because we’re concerned citizens. What excuse do you have?” Mae juts her chin.
My patience runs as thin as the Formica covering the table. Oh, ya know, I’m just an FBI agent, actually conducting an investigation .
Instead, I say, “I’m also a concerned citizen and if you didn’t notice there’s no bullet train running through the center of Butterbury, so I consider that a win.”
“Fair point,” Nash says, eyes still scanning behind me in case we have company.
“Thank you,” I say then add evidence to my case. I put a lot of money behind stopping Hydro-pro, government money, but still. I helped expose the shifty taxes Stoll tried to impose, and the historic preservation of the original town meeting house. I caught him falsifying clerical documents, among other things.
“The big question I have is why Stoll trusted you,” Taylor asks me as if he’s not sure how much he does with Tinsley sitting by my side.
“He’s not the brightest bulb. He saw dollar signs in his future and was blind to anything other than that. The guy got sloppy and saw me as an asset instead of an enemy.” I shrug.
“Did you find out anything useful?” he asks.
Tinsley shifts behind me and the sequins on her dress mesmerize me for half a second before I notice the way they reflect on the wall from the light through the window. With a gasp, I barely stop myself from inhaling the last bite of pie as I realize something crucial.