Chapter Four #2
Tom groaned. “Keep an eye on the account and text me later with the numbers and if any other photos appear. We need to check the address and call the bank.”
Carmen checked her watch. “I’ll get on that.” She trotted to her car parked on the opposite side of the park.
“Let’s go. I’ll take you to school and talk to your mom.” Tom followed Mia, reviewing the dozens of things he had left to do today including a trip to the canyon to check on several elderly residents.
“Isn’t there anything else I can do?”
“Not yet. Detective Vogel will handle the rest.”
Back in his car, he noted Mia’s face but wasn’t following her little pout down a rabbit trail. At the school, he followed Mia into the office, checked her in, left a message for Mr. Marsh, and went back to his car to call her mother.
With all those boxes checked, he cleared a trip to the canyon with dispatch and settled in for some quiet, thinking time.
Kids. Had to be.
What adult wanted to mess around like this.
&&&&&&&&&&&
His trip to the canyon complete, Tom parked in Clem’s lot next to Summer’s car. He had one item left before clock out.
Terry Pine needed a welfare check, dinner, and a few groceries.
The bachelor had knee surgery Monday and getting around on his own would aggravate the healing knee and earn a lecture from Dr. Jackie.
One phone call and Tom coaxed the man into accepting help.
Terry hated charity, but he had no family.
It wasn’t the way of this community to leave it’s elderly uncared for.
He got out and stretched, relishing the fresh air. The Christmas carols had been shut off, thank God. But the traffic hum heralded how fast the calendar was moving to Christmas.
Santa’s spot in front of Slade’s mocked him. He craned his neck to study the display. Were there flower arrangements in his place? Like a funeral memorial?
“This town has lost its mind,” Tom muttered and hurried to the entrance.
His radar tuned to his wife, he found her sitting in a booth on the back wall. He waved off the teenage waitress and started her direction only to be waylaid by Clem.
“Find Santa yet? Saw pictures online.”
More likely someone showed him the pictures, but Tom wasn’t about to quibble. “No. Checked the spot. He’d been moved again.”
“Whoever did this is pulling a prank.” Clem looked tired and was not usually the cranky type.
The town paid him big bucks not to utter snide comments, but the temptation sat there. Summer’s warm palm slipped into his.
He connected with her sweet green eyes and forgot what he was about to say. She squeezed his fingers and gave him an easy smile.
He swung back to Clem. “I know you’re frustrated. We are, too. We’ll figure it out. Give us a few more days. In the meantime, I need a take-out dinner for Terry Pine. He’s under the weather.”
“I can do that. His surgery laid him low. We’ll get him some good stuff to tied him over. Anything else?”
“No. I’ll stop at Sal’s and get him a few groceries, too.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to come at you. I don’t like being at cross purposes with Garrett.”
Tom raised a brow and tempered his reply. “Then don’t be. Let’s focus on things that matter.”
Clem grimaced. “Done. You need dinner, too?”
“Yes, please.”
“Usual?”
Tom nodded.
Clem looked at Summer.
“Don’t bring me another thing,” Summer chided.
Clem’s chuckle was the most natural thing of the whole conversation. “Don’t like my hot chocolate and desserts?”
“Oh, I like them too much.”
Clem stared out the window to Slade’s. “Good to see Lucille in here.”
“I heard she used to work for you.” Summer could coax anyone to talk.
Clem’s grin took years off his face. “Oh, man. That was years and years ago.”
“Bet there’s a story there.”
“One you will never hear.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Summer gave him her best smile.
Clem pointed a finger at her. “Nah, ain’t gonna work, missy. What happens in Clem’s, stays in Clem’s.” He walked off, going behind the door to the kitchen.
Tom’s grumpiness returned. “Wish that was truly the case, but more gossip starts here than any place outside the high school and the VFW.”
Summer pulled on his hand, and he followed her to the booth, waving to a few neighbors on the way.
She resumed her spot at the table, laced her hands in front of her, and gazed at him. “Is there anyone in this town you don’t know?”
He settled across from her. “A few, but I was raised here, and I have been a cop for a long time. I make it my business to meet and talk with everyone. It helps keep the community safe and settled.”
The table was littered with notes and drawings. Her empty mug and dessert plate sat on the edge for Myrna to grab. The lull between lunch and dinner was keeping the woman in cleaning mode.
“What was my grandfather’s legacy in this town?”
Surprised, Tom leaned on his elbows and studied her face. “You grew up with your grandparents.”
“I knew my grandfather to have arguments with, though. I wasn’t the most cooperative child, and lots of times, I was lost in learning to draw and paint. You talked to him as an adult.”
“He was proud of this town, proud of the railroad, loved your grandmother. He was proud of you and was pained he didn’t do enough. Why?”
“Families. Legacies. Many people here with long histories.”
“True.”
“Take your family for instance.”
“My family?”
“Your grandmother and grandfather – both sides of their families were part of this community early on.”
“Yes. My grandmother tells the story about how their mothers tried to matchmake them and how both were determined to fight it. You should ask her. She tells it better than I do.”
“I’ll do that.”
“What’s this for?
“My mural. I always do landscapes. I catch the color, the mood of the moment, but each painting doesn’t say much about what’s behind the landscape.”
Tom understood her direction. “Families.”
“Some with long histories here, and their presence shaped the landscapes. Take the Good Shepherd Church, for instance.”
“Been here a long time.”
“Yes, the front part of the building where the small chapel is formerly was the main church back in the 1880s. But the main church now is the addition constructed in 1969, yet the two blend to make a pretty unique place. But it’s the daycare children and the church members bringing life to its character. See where I’m going with this?”
“I think so. Some would say the same about my grandmother’s house.”
“For sure. It’s not about its background as a historic build from the 1900s, but the family who has been living there for decades since.”
“My grandparents bought it in 1948.”
“That coincides with Mrs. Heigl’s memory. She was raised in Conrad, went to teachers school at North Texas State Normal College, then came here. She and Olivia were fast friends.”
The phrasing tickled Tom’s humor. “I’ve always wondered about fast friends terminology. Did they rob banks and drink together?”
“No, they worked a community Christmas project together, and Olivia fixed Lucille’s car. It’s how they met.”
“Of course she did.”
Myrna approached the table and slid a hot roast beef sandwich and fries in front of him. “Anything else?”
“When you get a chance, coffee.”
“Sure.” She swept the dishes off the table and scurried off.
The shine on Summer’s face settled all his doubts. “You love this stuff, don’t you?”
“Yep. Didn’t realize it when I lived here, but all of the history weaves together to make the whole. You’re part of this town’s whole.”
“I’m a cop.”
“Plus, a member of one of the top families in town. I doubt there is one person in town who doesn’t recognize you. You’re a major thread.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Summer snorted. “You wouldn’t. You’ll see.”
“I’ll see what?”
“Your contribution when I put the mural together with all the threads.”
He quieted for passing seconds, not sure what to say. “I can’t wait.”
“Sure you can. There is doubt in your eyes, but I’ll show you.” She reached over and stole a fry.
He shifted his plate her way. “You know you want another one.”
Summer sighed. “Yes, I love his fries. But don’t give me anymore, okay?” She snitched one more and sat back with her empty hand in a stop motion.
Tom grabbed his sandwich and took a bite, moaning as the flavor hit his tongue. “Don’t tell my grandmother, but oh man, this is the best.” Regardless to what she said, Tom was saving his fries because Summer would eat every one.
Myrna stopped at the table, plunked down a coffee cup, and filled it in a flash, then she was gone again.
“I’m going to paint her.”
“Since when did you start painting people.”
“Only rarely, but I’m regaining an interest.”
There was a flash of something in her eyes, but Clem interrupted them. “Here’s Terry’s meal. Threw in some extra stuff for him to warm up for breakfast. Tell me if the fund is short for groceries. I’ll kick in.” Clem stepped away, stopping at the call from another patron several tables away.
Summer widened her eyes in interest. “Can I go with you to deliver his meal? It would be nice to get involved in this community stuff.”
“Sure.” Surprised, yet pleased, he took another bite. She didn’t think she belonged here. Oh, she was so wrong, but she seemed to be sorting her way through the belief. Maybe in the process, she’d resolve her anger at her grandfather.
She smiled, pleased with his answer. “It’s a date. Finish your dinner.”
“We have to elevate your definition of a date, sweetheart.”
“Even ordinary time with my husband matters. Shut up and finish.”
She gathered her drawings and cleaned up her mess.
He cleared the remains of his sandwich and gulped his coffee.
Yes, the French fries were eaten, too.