Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
AIDEN
T insley stands in the doorway, staring at me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Brave stands by her side, eyes locked on the cat.
I close my laptop and swivel in my chair, petting Cindy Clawford’s head. “If you think I’m an evil mastermind, you’re sorely mistaken,” I say in my best supervillain voice.
She laughs lightly. “Good to know, but what happened? You left Bubba’s so abruptly.”
“Sorry, I had a call. Work stuff. Sometimes I forget that I have a job.” I don’t, but it’s easy to get caught up in Tinsley and ignore the pressing matter of the case.
“Is everything okay?”
“As right as rain.” I glance out the window.
She gazes at her hands and then says, “My thirty days are up. Done. I’m free.”
The cat hops off my lap, and Brave trails it.
“Sniffing only. No touching,” Tinsley says to her dog.
I get to my feet. “Congratulations, by the way. You survived.”
“Did my duty. Now...”
“Now, we should celebrate. I have a meeting with Officer Henley in ten minutes. I’m meeting him at Doughnut Dollies. Shall we end the way we began?” I joke, recalling the jail cell doughnuts.
“Yeah. Sure,” Tinsley says, lacking enthusiasm.
I grip her upper arms. “Sorry, I’m preoccupied. Getting a doughnut probably isn’t the most exciting way to celebrate.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s what you do around here, right?”
“Small town life. I could take you on a horse ride in a field, a drive through the country, to the coast...”
Tinsley rocks on her feet a little. I can’t quite read her other than she seems disappointed. I’ll make it up to her because not only is Bubba’s done, the house is nearly there too and I am itching to share it with her.
We risk leaving the cat and the dog alone in the office, we go down to Doughnut Dollies.
Henley sits at the counter, halfway into a glazed old-fashioned doughnut. “Ah, the woman of the hour. You almost don’t look like the same girl who wandered into our town illegally.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately—the looking different part. Promise not to break the law again.”
Henley claps his hands. “Your service is officially complete.”
Tinsley bumps me with her hip. “Couldn’t have done it without this guy.”
“You two make quite the team. Could give the Designed to Last crew a run for their money.”
I pump my hands. “I wouldn’t go that far. Now that Bubba’s is done and my house nearly too, I think I’ll take a break from building projects for a while.”
“Oh yeah? What’s next for you?” Henley lifts and lowers his eyebrows.
Tinsley’s gaze flits to me and then quickly away and she studies the rows of doughnuts.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I didn’t plan for her to be here for this meeting, but it would look strange if I went to meet him alone, given she doesn’t know about my job. I try to think of a way to ask Henley without revealing anything.
“Take a seat.” Henley gestures to the empty stools.
Dora, a plump woman with a rosy face and red hair walks over with the coffee pitcher and refills Henley’s cup. “Dora, have you met Tinsley yet? She’s the newest resident of Butterbury. Tinsley meet Dora Gooseby.”
Her eyes sparkle with a smile. “We haven’t officially met, but I’ve heard about her plenty. I see you traded in your sequins.”
“For now,” Tinsley says as she settles on the stool.
My ears prick. She and I haven’t talked about the answer to Henley’s question, What’s next? I figured we are next, but the way she said that makes my skin tight and I wonder if she plans to stay.
“All the same, it’s nice to meet you. You’ve got your hands all over this town from the bakery to the BBQ joint, the bees, and rumor has it a certain young man.” She winks at me.
Tinsley opens and closes her mouth like she’s going to reply but then just orders a glazed old-fashioned just like Henley gave her in the jail cell, and I get the same.
“Ah, so is this what you meant by the goose being with the gander?”
Henley laughs. “Yep, code for my doughnuts were ready for pickup.”
I’m happy to have that cleared up, but I can’t help but still think the solution to this case is a lot closer and more obvious than I think, but it still eludes me. More than once, I’ve considered giving up and passing it off to someone else. I’m stumped. Or perhaps just distracted.
For two decades, I’ve gone from case to case, never stopping or settling down
I’ve decided this is my last job before I retire. I’ve put in almost twenty years. That’s plenty of time to almost die more times than I can count. Drove off a cliff in a high-speed chase. In my defense, so did the assailant and I didn’t want him to get away on foot. I’ve been shot four times. Oh, and I choked on a very dry chicken sandwich while eating alone in my car during a stakeout. Now, I just stick to steak cooked rare.
If I were a cat, I’d be on life eight point five.
Time to get back to real living.
My gaze travels to Tinsley. Her blonde hair frizzes from the rain. Her smooth profile with her button nose makes me want to lean in, smoosh her by the ear, on the neck, and along the collarbones.
Who knew I was a collarbones guy?
“So, what’s on your mind?” Henley asks, startling me from my thoughts about the woman by my side.
I craft my words carefully. “Now that Bubba’s is just about done, I thought it would be nice to have a grand reopening and for the mayor to cut the ribbon, but we don’t have one of those.”
“Not at present. I officially declared him missing.” Henley takes a long sip of coffee.
I wish I could say that was what sent me rushing to my office. No, Mrs. Stoll aka Joyce Estelle Blanchard was also declared missing by her neighbor. A quick search revealed Joyce Blanchard to be the daughter of oil baron Bill Blanchard of Louisiana. She married a young man by the name of Sheldon Gatlin Hebert. Last known address: Las Vegas, Nevada. I was able to follow a few leads and contacted his former lawyer, who hinted that although Sheldon had a will, there was little to leave the next of kin: Cindy Clawford.
Could there be a connection? I think so.
“Like a missing person?” Tinsley’s eyebrows curve like two lopsided question marks. Now is not the time to think about how adorable and cute and beautiful she is. “Missing like he was kidnapped or he skipped town?” Tinsley asks.
Henley replies, “Not sure. As mayor, he’s supposed to follow a protocol if he’s taking a vacation or otherwise unable to fulfill his duties.”
“Not like he did much of that anyway,” Dora says as she passes.
We probably should’ve had this discussion somewhere more private. “We need a mayor. Who can stand in?”
Henley smirks. “Typically it would be the deputy mayor, but we didn’t elect one. I’ll have to go to the town hall to confirm, but I believe in the original town charter, the mayor’s next of kin would stand in for him until the town elects someone new. Usually, thirty days after the mayor is declared unable to perform his or her duties.”
“Or in this case missing,” I say. “But that’s what I was afraid of.”
Henley claps me on the shoulder. “Son, I know you’re angling for the job, but we have to hold an election all the same.”
“I’m aware and wouldn’t think of doing anything illegal.”
“Well, there is a market that needs repair over on Route Seventeen. Mitch’s old place if you feel like updating another local business. Things like that sure look good on a ballot.”
I laugh dryly. “That’s not it. Sir, Twinky, er, Cindy Clawford is Stoll’s next of kin and the recipient of his estate in the case of his untimely death.” I have a copy of the will on my phone but ought to keep the finer points to myself, so I don’t arouse suspicion in Tinsley.
“Thought you said she was stolen.” Henley cocks an eyebrow.
“Indeed. From his wife. I have reason to believe he stole the cat back from whoever took it in the first place. In any case, the veterinarian records show she belonged to Estelle Stoll.”
“Estelle Stoll? I’ve never heard of her.” Henley rubs his chin.
“I can provide you with all the documentation to confirm.”
“Where are Gatlin and Estelle?” Henley asks vaguely as if the answer will materialize in the hole of the doughnut as he takes a bite.
“All I have is the name of Gatlin’s once-upon-a-time wife, video footage of his last sighting, and the receipt from the purchase of a Hawaiian shirt, but I’m working on it.”
“I bet you are...and working your way into the mayor’s office,” Henley says knowingly.
“You sound like a private detective in a whodunnit movie, but did you say Estelle?” Tinsley asks, breaking from her chat with Dora.
“Yeah, supposedly that’s Gatlin’s wife’s name.” I keep her real name to myself because I can’t easily explain why I have that other than my federal database clearance.
“I knew an Estelle Blanchard—she played Sierra Mahoney’s mom on the show. Sierra was the main vampire-wisp. Estelle was so sweet and always brought cookies to the set.”
I tilt my head like Brave when Tinsley calls his name. It’s a flimsy lead, but I’ll look into it all the same. But first, I want to talk to Tinsley about tomorrow and the day after that and the next...
Henley takes a last sip of coffee and then puts on his hat. “Time to get back to work.”
Yeah, me too, but I’m tired. Tired of chasing clues and criminals. Tired of always looking over my back. Tired of obfuscating and bending the truth.
I should just tell Tinsley about my job and my status. Clear things up now. We’ll go back to the office to talk. Hopefully, the animals haven’t torn the place to shreds.
The rain still comes down as we step outside. Thankfully, it’s a short walk, but Tinsley goes still the moment she sets foot on the sidewalk. She ducks behind me.
“What’s wrong?”
I glance down the street as a black Lamborghini with a red and gold claw mark wrap whizzes by. “That’s out of place in Butterbury.” Then I glimpse the four letters on the license plate. “Puma.”
Taking Tinsley by the arm, I lead her out of the rain and upstairs to the office. Brave greets us like celebrities. She goes still when she spots something on my desk.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” I ask, alarmed that he found her here unless they’d arranged to meet.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” she fires back.
A long and pointed silence stretches between us as the cat weaves and rubs our legs. I look at my desk and notice an open file—Twinky must’ve flicked it with her tail. Clipped to it is a black and white mug shot of Harold Jerrold Pumanowksi.
I move to close it, but Tinsley beats me there and her eyes widen at the federal heading on the top sheet. Her eyes scan until they reach the bottom where she stops. Her nostrils flare. I know what it says without having to read it myself. I’ve memorized every detail of this case.
“Known associates? Tinsley Louise Humber? Aiden, what is this?”
My breath stalls, unsure whether to go in or out. I’m not going to lose my cool, but I need to keep my calm. I could really use those cute cat pics right at the moment. I’m not mad at her. No, far from it. I’m upset with myself for not coming forward with the truth sooner and for being so careless.
When I don’t answer, she shakes her head and then rushes out the door and down the stairs.
As she disappears, time seems to stop abruptly. I’m losing her, but the details and clues of the case pile up then swiftly come into focus, leading me to the logical conclusion. In the flash of an instant, I link the pieces together—Stoll’s connection, Puma’s involvement, and the Kraven brother’s intentions. It all becomes clear as if by her leaving, I made mental room to solve this case.
However, I don’t want to let her go. I can’t.
I hurry after Tinsley.
Aggie pops out of the bookstore and points at the car across the street. “Is that part of Operation Pierate?”
“Please protect the asset,” I say, gesturing upstairs while scanning for Tinsley.
“Copy that,” Aggie says.
Tinsley stands by the curb on the corner and looks up and down the street. The rain still comes down in sheets. The sinister red taillights of the Lamborghini idling in front of the Starlight drum up my adrenaline. She runs in that direction. I chase after her but don’t want to holler her name and give away her location to Puma.
She stops short by the Lamborghini and then darts in the opposite direction before disappearing into the boutique.
I breathe a sigh of relief, but then a figure dressed in black gets out of the vehicle and follows her inside. My pulse vibrates in my ears as the man who stands a head shorter than me whips around when I enter the shop.
“What brings you here, Harold?” I ask.
His expression falters then he regains his mask of cool confidence. “Harold? Don’t you know who I am? I’m Puma Palmer.”
Standing behind the counter, Louella Belle’s eyes bulge. A trail of wet footprints leads to her. No doubt, Tinsley hides back there.
“The name Puma means nothing here,” I grind out, wanting to keep his attention on me and not either of the women.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Federal Agent Fuller.”
He snorts a laugh. “Federal Agent? I’ve been hearing that a lot lately. My fan club is growing by the day.”
“I am no fan of yours. One more time, what business do you have here?”
“Just came looking for something that’s mine.”
“Unless you want to buy some Designed to Last swag, I don’t think you’ll find anything like that here.”
“No, I think I will. I’m looking for Tinsley Humber. Tall, blonde, beautiful. She’d stick out in a place like this.”
“She is not yours,” I growl.
“Ah, then you know her?”
My patience is about as thin as a cat’s whisker as he looks me over with barely veiled hostility.
He steps closer to me. “Wait a second, you questioned me in LA. I already told you everything I know.” He simpers a laugh.
“You told me everything you knew at the time. What new information do you have, Harold?”
“I hoped to find Tinsley first because there is someone else who’s looking for her. Someone who thinks she knows more than she should. More than is good for her. I just want to make sure that’s not true.”
“Are you making a threat?” I lift my jacket slightly to reveal my sidearm.
He holds up his hands. “No, sir. Not at all.”
“If you know what’s good for you, never step foot in this town again.”
“Who’s going to keep me out? Are you the mayor?” Harold laughs. “No, the mayor of this place sold you out.” He spins in a circle. “Soon, all of this will be—” He puffs his hands to indicate...a doughnut? A cloud? An explosion.
I grip him by his arm and then tug him toward the door.
“Hey, take it easy unless you want to hear from my lawyer.”
“Shut your mouth unless you want to—” But I go quiet because we’re still in Louella Belle’s presence then drag him outside. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“Isn’t that a wedding ceremony line? Sorry, not interested.” Harold titters.
“Tell me what you know or you’ll find yourself back behind bars.”
“I know people in important positions. Let’s say they picked me out with the promise that I’m safe from the long arm of the law. He titters. “Anyway, Tinsley and I have unfinished business.”
“No, you do not.” Unless she didn’t tell the agents everything when she was questioned.
“If she’s been hiding out in this sorry little nowhere town, I want her to know that I can give her more. So much more. The whole thing in Malibu was a misunderstanding. I wanted to take her out, go shopping, have a nice meal, go somewhere on my private jet.”
“You’re grounded. No traveling outside US borders.”
Harold leans close. “I’ll go right to the edge.”
Anger rushes through me like red hot coals. I grab his shirt collar. “And I’m the kind of guy that steps over it, so I suggest you watch what you say...and what you do.”
At this moment, I realize Tinsley tamed me, brought the version of myself when acting as an agent and the real Aiden closer together—a man who will work hard and fight for the justice I believe in while doing the same for love.
I shove Harold toward his car. He might be out on bail and awaiting trial, but he doesn’t get to come into my town, looking for my girlfriend.
“If I see you here again, that Lamborghini will be in the car compactor over at the scrapyard.”
“Whatever. I have another one.”
“You’ll be in it,” I growl.
He brushes himself off but won’t meet my gaze.
My breath comes heavy as I watch him get into the Lamborghini and drive off. As I calm myself without the help of cute cats, questions drench my thoughts. Why is Harold looking for Tinsley? Does she know more than she should? Did she hear Harold and my exchange?
And most importantly, will she ever trust me again?