Chapter 3 #4
She blinked, startled. “Umm, thanks. I’ll see you then.”
She ended the call and looked up at Reno, who was staring at her expectantly. ‘Clint’s coming over here. Now.”
“Great. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stick around until he gets here,” Reno said evenly.
“I don’t mind.”
Clint arrived in eight minutes. He was a big man, going gray at the temples, and one of the genuinely kind people she had the privilege to know.
Grace had watched him sit at this counter and eat a slice of pie and gripe about the mayor’s stingy budget dozens of times.
He always asked after Lily, as well. She would never forget him telling her, very quietly in the weeks after the fire that he was so sorry.
He told her if there was anything she needed, anything at all, his department would make happen.
He took off his hat and set it on the counter the way he always did.
“Hello, Grace. Reno.” He glanced at Lily, seated beside him. “Hey there, Lily.”
“Hi, Sheriff,” Lily replied without looking up from her drawing.
Wheeler turned back to Grace. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She started with the email complaining about a fly in hot chocolate, and how she’d gone back and checked, and every customer on the day of the supposed event was someone she’d known for years and who wouldn’t hesitate to tell her about it in person.
Reno’s eyebrows shot up at this new information, but he made no comment.
Grace told Wheeler about the rosemary and Mary’s encounter with the fake utility man, along with her own call to the water company. Wheeler took notes on a small spiral pad and asked a few questions for clarification as she spoke.
When she finished, he said, “I’ll put it on the books.
I’d have my deputies cruise by here regularly, after dark especially.
We’re a little short-handed at the moment.
Cooper Lawton’s in Arizona on department business and won’t be back for at least a week or else I’d park a man out front at night.
But I can send patrols by here, no problem. ”
Reno had been leaning against the counter with his arms folded. At the mention of Cooper being in Arizona, Grace saw his expression change. His eyes went hard for a single blink of the eye and then went back to usual observant calm.
“What kind of department business?” Reno asked, in a tone that wasn’t quite as casual as he probably meant it to be.
Wheeler studied him for a moment. “I’ll let Cooper decide what he wants to put in the wider conversation when he gets back.”
Reno nodded and let it go.
Wheeler looked back at Grace. “Any reason someone might want to make a particular point at your shop, Mrs. O’Donnell? Anyone been bothering you or got mad at you recently?”
She shook her head. “I run a bakery and sell flowers. I haven’t had a cross word with anyone in this town in years.”
Wheeler set his pen down. “Couple of practical matters. The deadbolt on your back door . You using it?”
“During business hours, no. The fire marshal . . .”
“I know what the fire marshal says. Use it after hours, every night, no exceptions. Maybe think about rekeying the locks. And you should think about putting a security camera over your back door.”
Grace smiled in spite of herself. “Mr. Steele has already given me a recommendation for a good camera at a reasonable price.”
Wheeler nodded. “Get it installed sooner rather than later. If anyone shows up here who isn’t a face you know, you call me directly. I don’t care if they’re behaving perfectly well or not. I want to hear about any strangers. You’ve got my cell phone number?”
“I do,” she said.
He picked up his hat. “I’ll be in touch. And, Grace?”
“Yes?”
“You did the right thing calling me. Don’t second-guess yourself for being cautious. I’m telling you right now you’re not being paranoid. Caution is the thing that lets us do our job before something big happens instead of after.”
He nodded at Reno on the way out, and the door closed behind him. Grace stood there feeling a combination of alarm and relief. Alarm because the sheriff hadn’t laughed off the odd events, and relief that she’d taken Reno’s advice and called Clint.
Speaking of Reno, he was standing there, staring at the door Wheeler had just gone through, utterly still. As if he was thinking hard about something he didn’t want to say out loud.
“Finally, he said, “The deadbolt has to be unlocked during business hours per the fire marshal, which means anyone who walks through your front door has an unlocked back door they can exit through. Correct?”
She hadn’t quite thought about it in those terms. The thought made her stomach feel wrong. “Correct.”
He said, in a voice she could tell was deliberately casual, “With Cooper in Arizona and the department spread thin, I’d like to come by here the next few nights and keep an eye on the place after you close up.
Park out front, walk around the building every hour or two, make sure nothing happens. I won’t get in your way.”
She stared at him. “Reno, that’s . . .”
“Please hear me out. I may be a cowboy with a busted leg, but I’ve got nothing to do in the evenings and my eyes work fine. There’s not gonna be anyone watching the bakery in between a few police drive-by’s unless someone volunteers to do it. I’m volunteering. That’s the whole of it.”
She tried to find a polite way to refuse. Her resistance to the idea was formed out of pride and that fact that she would never ask a near-stranger to sit outside her shop all night while she went home to her comfy bed and slept.
But she couldn’t get any of those things out of her mouth because, and this was the part she was struggling with most, she was relieved.
“Just for a night or two,” she heard herself say.
“Until Cooper gets back. Or until whoever’s messing with the bakery gets bored and stops.”
“And you’ll go home in the morning? Promise to get some actual sleep?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He held her gaze the way he had when he told her not to come to work alone before sunup. He was, she registered, dead serious.
“All right,” she said.
“All right,” he agreed.
She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
“Reno, do you usually tell the people around you what they ought to do?”
“I try not to, as a rule. But if I’m worried about someone I care about, I would be remiss if I didn’t speak up, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so.”
“I’ll do my best not to tell you what you ought to do,” he said earnestly.
“I appreciate that.”
“And Grace?”
“Yes?”
“May I buy another cinnamon roll if you’ve got one?”
She smiled warmly. “I always have cinnamon rolls. I make extra every day to take over to Rose’s Diner. So, even if there aren’t any in the front case, I always have more in the back. And it’s on the house. It’s the least I can do if you’re going to watch the bakery for me all night.”
She boxed up four of the sticky rolls and handed them to him.
He took the box and winked at Lily who was watching him with interest. “You take care of your mama, Miss Lily.”
“I will.”
“Good girl.”
He left, and it was quiet for a moment. Then Lily said, “Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“That man is nice.”
“He is, isn’t he?”
“Uhh huh. Mommy?”
“Yes?”
Lily said, with the philosophical aplomb of a four-year-old, “I think he likes you.”
Grace gulped and had no idea how to respond to that. She finally choked out, “Eat your cookie.”
“I already ate my cookie.”
“Eat another one.”