10. Fork Maneuvers
TEN
Fork Maneuvers
Harry
A t five the next evening, Harry was in his office.
He’d received word that day the dentist practice was incorrect. They’d checked their unit, and Sonny and Avery’s charts had been purged when their dentist retired, because they were old enough to be purged.
They apologized profusely, they’d wanted to help, but Harry expressed gratitude and reminded them they’d done nothing wrong.
They’d just have to wait for the DNA.
He’d come into town early (he was picking up Lillian in half an hour to take her to Luigi’s) to check if he’d heard anything from Coeur D’Alene (he hadn’t), or if there was any shit he had to deal with that he could get out of his way so he could hit the ground running on Monday.
There, he’d found a file on his desk with a Post-it on top from Rus, his friend, but also his lead detective, that said, You’re right. Shady. And worth a look . Let me know .
It was one of the files they’d tagged as suspect from Dern’s term.
Harry opened it, even if he’d already been through it closely.
He read it again.
It was the case of the apparent suicide of Clifford “Muggsy” Ballard.
Harry had been working at the department then, and by that time, the department had split down the middle. Men (and there were no women back then, not deputies, nor were there any people of color…at all) who were serious about the job were in Harry’s camp, and the others who were there to get what they could out of a position of authority and power were in Dern’s.
Harry had been one of two investigating deputies, the other one was in Dern’s camp.
However, neither of them worked this file directly.
Unusually, only Dern worked it. And very quickly, it was ruled suicide.
Though Harry remembered it, not only because that was unusual, but also because a woman came in, had a loud argument with Dern, and came out, shouting, “You’re a useless piece of dirt, sheriff!”
When Harry asked Polly who the woman was, he was told it was Muggsy’s mother.
The file was slim, with just some photos of the scene that Harry had to admit, if you took ten citizens off the street, showed those to them and said, “You’ve got twenty seconds to decide what happened here,” all ten would say it was a suicide.
However, the report was only three-quarters of a page long, and noted only friends and acquaintances suggested deceased had shown recent signs of depression .
Nothing else was done, including testing for GSR on the deceased’s hand.
It was the ME’s report that caught their eye.
Where she checked “suicide” on the report, there was an asterisk. And at the asterisk, it said see notes in report about bruising .
Harry had never seen anything like that.
Upon reading these notes, the medical examiner described the body had bruising and swelling about the face consistent with taking a beating, and defensive wounds on his arms. All of which happened very close to death, though in her estimation, not directly prior to it.
Anyone, but perhaps Dern, would think that was beyond hinky.
After studying the pictures in minute detail, with nothing jumping out at him except for the fact the man had experienced a beatdown before he died, Harry was about to close the file, shut down his computer and purge his thoughts on it (for now), deciding to sit down with Rus and discuss a way forward on Monday, when he sensed someone approaching down the hall.
He looked up to see Megan, the president of the town council, lifting a hand to knock on his doorframe.
“Hey,” he greeted before her knuckles struck frame.
She dropped her hand and walked in. “Do I have to tell my sheriff how important it is to get regular rest and downtime, not because his work is anything but exemplary, but because he’s my friend, and I feel the need to lecture him about looking after himself?”
Harry’s gaze dropped to her smart suit, which meant she was either out on a Saturday seeing to work (she was in real estate) or seeing to town council business.
Therefore, he raised his brows to indicate her kettle calling out his pot.
She smiled and moved farther in. “I was on my way home to Dan when I saw you in here.”
He needed to learn to close his blinds when he didn’t want a well-meaning friend to detour into his office in order to tell him off.
“Just had something to check, then I’m headed out to dinner,” he told her.
Her eyes lit with interest, but she only hummed, “Hmm.”
With Megan, Harry wasn’t going to go there.
He respected her, he liked her, and he had occasion to hang with her, mostly if he’d been asked over to Cade and Delphine’s, because she was Delphine’s closest friend, so if Harry was asked, it was likely Megan and Dan had been asked.
But she wasn’t even close to his closest friend, nor was he hers.
So they weren’t going to be discussing Lillian.
“Though, while you’re here, we’ve finished the audit and there are going to be a couple of cases we’ll be looking deeper into,” he shared.
“As suspected,” she mumbled irritably.
“Also, while we’re offering advice,” he started, doing it smiling at her so she’d know he took no offense, but also so she wouldn’t take any with what he said next. “I’ll repeat my concerns you’re not running in the next election.”
Megan shook her head. “You know my feelings about incumbency, Harry.”
“Yes, I do,” he retorted. “But before you, we had town council that was at best, mismanaged, at worst, and more accurately, it was managed with gross negligence. If you had another term, you’d have time to groom someone to take over.”
“That’s just it,” she replied. “These political legacies are kind of like monarchies. In the end, you have one line holding most of the power. And they can become corrupt or complacent, which was what happened to the council before I shook it up. You know more than me that corruption needs to be stamped out. But people don’t need complacency either. They need fresh ideas and energy. And even if the person you don’t want gets elected, it’s a good thing, because it encourages engagement. So I’ve no intention not only to run, but to groom someone to take over. It’s time for new blood, Harry. And anyway,” her eyes twinkled, “if I’m president of the town council, it’d make it hard to be a county commissioner.”
After she delivered this litany, Harry found himself mostly repeating what Doc said to him the night before. “It’s inconvenient you have too many scruples.”
She smiled, hitched her purse strap more firmly on her shoulder and said, “I know it sounds like I’m contradicting myself, but I’m glad you’re running for another term. It’s my feeling a sheriff should be appointed by a group of people who understand he, or she, is fit to serve. What you do isn’t and never should be considered political. So, even if you’re running unopposed, I’m going to vote for you, but I’m going to pretend I’m doing it as a member of a group who knows what they’re doing and appointing the right man for the job.”
He lifted his chin to accept the compliment and decided not to tell her that was what all voters should be doing.
Her eyes again twinkled, “And I sure hope that dinner you’re going to is with that pretty Rainier woman. I’ve referred some clients to her, and I’ve never regretted it. She’s a good seed. I sadly wasn’t around to see you escorting her down the sidewalk or chatting with her at the Double D, but from everything I’ve heard, you make a handsome couple.”
“Tell Dan I said hey,” Harry replied in order to share how he felt about discussing his dinner plans.
His reply only made Megan laugh, lift a hand, bid him to have a good weekend, and she walked out.
Harry checked his watch, then locked up the files, powered down his computer, and he went out and drove the block to Lillian’s.
This was something he’d never do, but he didn’t know if she’d be in comfortable shoes, and he didn’t want to make her walk if she wasn’t. The theater was only a few blocks away from her house, but Luigi’s was a couple minutes’ drive out of town and not walking distance.
So he parked outside her house and didn’t miss the movement of the curtains in the window of the place next door.
Even if it was mildly annoying, he felt his lips quirk, because he suspected that was Ronetta (or George) and the affection with which Lillian spoke of them meant he didn’t mind they were up in Lillian’s business.
He knocked on her door and was surprised when, about five seconds later, it opened.
Harry sucked in breath.
Her thick, rich russet hair was down and filled with curls and body. Her makeup was more dramatic and way sexier than he’d seen her wear it. She had on a complicated, light peach, long-sleeved sweater that had a crisscross, halter-type thing at the neck, which gave a keyhole hint to cleavage and left a good amount of her shoulders bare. She wore this with white jeans that fit phenomenally tight and showed a slender inch of skin between the hem and the soft taupe booties she wore. The booties had a stacked heel and put her at a height where he, at six one, wouldn’t have to bend his neck so far to kiss her (incidentally, he clocked her at around five eight).
Harry had no idea until right then the skin of a woman’s shoulders and a half an inch of their shin were so fucking sexy, but Lillian proved this true.
“Hey,” she puffed out, taking his attention to her face, which was flushed as he watched her eyes roaming his chest and then they dipped down, and she bit her lip.
Jesus Christ.
“Hey,” he replied, before her staring at his crotch and biting her lip like that gave her more of a show in that area.
Her gaze sped to his and her cheeks flushed deeper.
“You look nice,” she said, her voice husky.
“That’s my line,” he returned, and there it was, more pink in her cheeks.
“Come in while I”—she cleared her throat—“grab my jacket and purse.”
He came in.
She closed the door and hustled to the kitchen table.
There were new flowers there.
He took his attention off them in order to take in the show of Lillian shrugging on a jean jacket, her ass swaying, her hand flipping the long sheath of her hair out of the collar. She grabbed a little bag, shoved her phone and keys in, and settled the strap on her shoulder.
She turned and made her way back, stopping in front of him.
“Shit part out of the way first,” he said gently. “Your dentist doesn’t have your parents’ charts.”
She made that cute scrunchy face, even if why she had to make it sucked.
“I know the folks at Coeur d’Alene aren’t sitting on this. Cops don’t like unidentified bodies. They’re on it. We should hear soon, regardless,” he assured.
She nodded.
He put a line under it by asking, “Have a good Saturday?”
“I cleaned my house. I paid bills. I did my grocery shopping. So now I can be all about you, and tomorrow, I can be all about an epic chillout.”
“Doesn’t sound like a fun day, but I’m all about you being all about me, considering I’m on track to be all about you.” He enjoyed the renewed blush in her cheeks as he finished, “And a Sunday chillout is always good.”
Her head tipped to the side, sending her gorgeous hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Do you let yourself have Sunday chillouts?”
“Afraid people don’t refrain from doing stupid shit on Sundays. And they definitely don’t refrain on Saturday nights.”
“That means no.”
“Yeah, it means no.”
“And you still wouldn’t want to do any other job but this?” she asked.
“And I still wouldn’t want to do any other job but this,” he confirmed.
She stared at him.
And then he grunted when she threw herself at him.
Automatically, his hands went to her waist, and his neck bent so he could look down at her.
Which put him in position for her to slide up on her toes and press her mouth to his.
He smelled jasmine and rose, felt a soft woman pressed down his front, and Jesus fuck, her lips fit perfectly against his.
For so many reasons, he wanted to have more finesse.
But this was Lillian, who still missed her cat a year after her passing, had fresh flowers in her kitchen, took beating after beating, kept her feet and kept going and had a laugh that sounded like a song.
And she’d thrown herself at him.
So he didn’t have finesse in him.
His arms closed around her, his mouth opened, hers reciprocated, and he swept his tongue inside.
He felt warmth, tasted beautiful woman, his cock that had been stirring since he laid eyes on her woke up and his arms tightened, pulling her deeper into his body as he slanted his head and took even more from her.
Lillian pressed closer, arching into him, her fingers sliding into his hair, and she gave it.
At her touch, he groaned into her mouth.
All about giving as good as she got, she moaned in return.
They made out, hot and heavy, for too long before he broke it, but he didn’t let her go.
Both of them breathing heavily, they stared into each other’s heated eyes.
Fuck him, that green shone like emeralds when she was turned on, and that in turn was a massive turn on.
“Well,” she said with a trembling voice, “it’s good we did that. It won’t be on our minds all through dinner and ruin the movies because that’s all we’re thinking about.”
She was very wrong. Now that he knew what she tasted like and how good she could kiss, that was all he was going to be thinking about.
“And we have practice,” she continued. “So we can just take up where we left off when you bring me home.”
He couldn’t stop it.
He busted out laughing, pulling her even closer, and after his head shot back with his humor, he shoved his face in her neck getting a nose full of jasmine and rose, and liking it.
She let him do that, and only when his laughter started waning did she whisper, “That feels nice.”
He lifted his head and smiled down at her.
His smile faded when he saw how intent she looked.
Not serious.
Intent .
“I’m going to see about making you do that more often, Harry Moran,” she said softly.
“I’m not going to argue with that, Lillian Rainier,” he replied, also softly, making his own vow, silently, to do the same once he got her through whatever was going to come.
She touched his jaw, then bopped up to give him a peck on the lips before pulling from his arms, but taking his hand and leading him toward the door, saying, “I need to get fed. I also need to watch you eat tomatoes and basil. I’ve spent all day making up great quips about you wasting a perfectly good opportunity to splurge on carbs. I don’t want to forget any.”
“I’ll take a bite of yours,” he said, reaching to the door handle but not catching it because she stopped dead.
He turned to her.
“I don’t share food,” she declared.
“Bummer,” he muttered on a tease.
“Okay, I’ll share with you,” she decreed instantly, evidence she was either a pushover, or she was a pushover for him.
The first one he didn’t believe. Not with all she’d wrought all by herself in her thirty-five years.
The second one he’d take.
He opened the door, murmuring, “Obliged.”
“But don’t tell anyone,” she warned. “I’m famous for my fork maneuvers.
He was chuckling as they stood out on her porch, and he waited for her to lock up after them.
“Fork maneuvers?” he asked.
She glanced up at him. “As in, spearing you if you try to nab something off my plate.”
That earned more chuckles.
She locked her door and stowed her keys back in her purse.
He took her hand and guided her to his truck. He opened the door for her, helped her in, and closed it on her.
He glanced to her neighbor’s house as he moved around the hood and saw Ronetta wasn’t hiding behind a curtain anymore. She was standing in the window, arms crossed, staring at him. George was beside her.
Ronetta just stared.
George lifted two fingers to his eyes and then turned them around toward Harry.
Harry jutted his chin their way then dropped it to grin down at his boots.
The minute he got into his truck and turned the ignition, Lillian rolled her window down.
He looked to her.
She had her head out the window and was shouting, “Stop being weird!”
He burst out laughing again, but when he turned that way, he saw George disappear from the window.
Ronetta wasn’t as easily cowed.
“Roll up your window, sweetheart, it’s cold,” Harry ordered as he put the truck in gear.
She did as told.
And Harry drove them to Luigi’s.