“I know. And then this morning, he found a dead possum in his truck. Neck broken.”
Em jumped a little. “Shit.”
“So.” Levi looked at the wall. “I want you to go up to his place as a security detail.”
“A security detail? What am I, the Secret Service?”
“Don’t get fresh with me, young lady.”
“I’m a year older than you, Levi. Do you really think he’s in danger?”
“It’s our job to make sure he’s not.” Levi picked up a pen and started fiddling with it. He didn’t look at her.
“Chief,” she said. “We have three people on this police force. You think a dead rodent means I should babysit Jack Holl— Oh, my God, you’re matchmaking, aren’t you?”
Levi sighed. “Faith made me do it.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Still, I’m your boss. Please make sure Jack’s tucked in tonight.”
“Levi—”
“That’s Chief Cooper, Officer Neal.”
“Oh, don’t get official on me!” She slumped back in her chair. “Okay, the broken neck thing is creepy.”
“Yes.”
“Can’t Everett do it? You know how he likes to wander around with his hand on his gun.”
“Yes, and he’s going to shoot his foot off one day because of it.” Levi sighed. “You have to admit, a dead possum in someone’s truck is unusual. So get that look off your face and go up there and check on him. Check around his property. And maybe talk to his ex-wife. Faith said she was a little...unstable. If she deliberately sprained her ankle to get Jack’s attention—”
“So you believe me now?”
“—who’s to say she wouldn’t pick up roadkill and put it in his truck? Especially if she’s mad at him for dating you.”
“He’s not dating me. He keeps trying to date me, and—”
“Let’s not talk about personal lives, shall we?”
“You’re the one pimping me out here, Levi.”
He crinkled his brow at her. Stared, patiently, slightly bored.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“Thank you so very much, Officer.”
“Keep this in mind during my annual review.”
“Will do.” He allowed a faint smile, then waved her out of the office.
EM’S FIRST STOP was the Opera House. She clomped up the stairs and knocked on the door of apartment 3-C. Hadley opened the door, a bright, expectant smile on her face that dropped like a lead hockey puck at the sight of Not Jack. “Hello, Miss Boudreau,” Em said. “Mind if I come in and ask you a few questions?”
“Is Jack all right?” she breathed, peering around the door.
“Interesting you should ask. Any reason he wouldn’t be?” Em asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Um, I...I have no idea!” She flushed.
Guilty, Em thought. She waited.
“Well, do come in!” Hadley said. “Where are my manners?”
She was wearing a dress, a rose-colored sheath kind of thing that Em imagined would make her look as shapely as a pillow but on Hadley looked romantic and delicate. Her long blond hair was caught at the nape of her neck in the type of artless, casual ponytail that Em had never been able to master; her thick, not-straight, not-curly locks were the Houdini of hair and could only be forced into her regulation bun with a combination of the magic slime, a thick supermarket elastic once used to lump the broccoli together and seventeen bobby pins.
Suppressing a sigh—she wasn’t supposed to care about this stuff anymore—she stepped into the dimly lit apartment. It had come furnished, Emmaline knew, but Hadley had put her mark on it. A vase of pink and purple tulips sat on the coffee table, and a soft ivory wrap was artfully draped on the arm of the sofa. Lots of throw pillows, a series of framed mirrors on the brick wall. Two or three candles filled the room with the scent of lavender, clogging Em’s throat.
The whole room was set up for seduction.
Oh, and how cute. A giant wedding photo of Hadley and Jack sat on the bookcase, impossible to ignore. Em had to admit—Jack Holland in navy whites was a very nice sight. He and Hadley made a gorgeous couple; it couldn’t be denied. Hadley was beautiful and radiant and tiny, and Jack...Jack looked incredibly happy.
Em forced her eyes away from the photo. A bottle of wine, nearly three quarters empty, sat on the counter. One glass. The cork and corkscrew were over by the sink, indicating that it had been opened recently.
A lot of wine for such a petite woman.
“What can I do for you, Officer?” Hadley asked.
“Jack found a dead possum in his truck today. Would you happen to know anything about that?”
“Really?” Her face lit up. “That’s just awful! Was he upset? Should I call him? Does he need me?”
“Did you put it there?”
“Me? No!”
“And where were you last night?”
“I was here. Alone.”
Jack wasn’t even pressing charges. Maybe he knew it was his ex and didn’t want her in trouble. “Is there anyone who can confirm that?” Em asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I talked to my sister around ten. Frankie. Jack’s very fond of her. He loves my family. Well, they’re his family, too, of course.”
“You didn’t go anywhere?”
Hadley folded her arms. “I told you, I didn’t do anything. You think I’d touch a dead animal? Do I strike you as that type?” She had a point. As much as Emmaline would love to arrest Hadley for criminal mischief, she really couldn’t see her getting her perfect little manicured hands dirty. “After I talked to Frankie, I went straight to bed to get some beauty sleep. Maybe you should try it.”
Emmaline indulged in a brief fantasy in which she slapped some cuffs on Teeny Tiny and Mirandized her. Put her in the holding cell. Happy thoughts.
“Do you always drink alone, Miss Boudreau?” Em asked, nodding at the wine bottle and glass.
“Well, being married to a winemaker certainly developed my appreciation for wine, Officer. But not always. Sometimes Jack and I have a glass together.”
Em didn’t take the bait. “Make sure you don’t drink and drive.”
“Oh, I’m perfectly sober. In fact, it sounds like Jack shouldn’t be alone. I’ll go on up and check in on him.”
“No need, Miss Boudreau. The police have this covered.”
Hadley scowled. “Well, I think Jack could use some company.”
“Chief Cooper thinks so, too, which is why I’m going up there right now. I hope not to see any trespassers. Have a good night.”
She left the Opera House and walked across the green, past O’Rourke’s, which was already jumping, and down the street to her own little place. She needed to feed Sarge. Might as well bring Super-Pup, too, if she had to hang out at Jack’s.
Sarge twirled in circles of joy when she came through the door, Squeaky Chicken clutched in his mouth. “Hi, handsome! Are you happy to see me? You are?” Indeed, Sarge was whimpering and crooning with joy. Em ruffled his sides with both hands and let him lick her face for a few minutes. “Who’s a good boy? Huh? You are, buddy! Come on—out you go!”
While Sarge did his business in the backyard, Em took a look around.
It didn’t glow with femininity the way Hadley’s apartment did, that was for sure. But it was a happy space. There were a few pictures on the mantel; one of her and Angela, another of Levi pinning on her badge the day she’d graduated from the academy. Her and Nana one summer day long ago, both of them laughing, Em’s two front teeth missing. The furniture was comfortable and sturdy (rather like herself). Lots of books in the built-in shelves. A beautiful Tiffany lamp that she’d splurged on at Presque Antiques on the green.
This house was where she’d spent the happiest times of her life, aside from those years with Kevin. This was more home than the place where she’d grown up, which was someone else’s now, anyway. But it still gave her a pang, the ease with which her parents had sent their only child away for the bulk of every summer. They’d kept Angela close by their sides; even after the divorce, they were unable to split up because they might not see her as much.
Well. They had done Emmaline a favor. She’d been better off here.
“Come on, Sarge,” she said, as her dog raced in through the doggy door. “We have guard duty tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
JACK FOUND THAT cooking had taken on greater importance since the accident, as it gave his mind something to think about. A science podcast was playing on his computer; another tool to keep his brain occupied.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t really concerned about the possum in his truck. A teenager, he figured, probably one of Josh Deiner’s friends. And if so, Jack sort of deserved it, didn’t he?
His phone buzzed with an incoming text. Hadley. Great.
Heard about “incident” 2day. U ok???? Xoxox
Was it so hard to spell out the words? Text-style spelling would make Stephen Hawking seem idiotic. He opted not to answer.
That was a mistake. His phone buzzed again, vibrating on the counter.
Pls let me know ur ok.
Jack sighed.
U want 2 come over 4 dinner???
She had fast thumbs, he’d give her that.
I can come 2 c u if easier. :)
And now a smiley face, for the love of God.
Give me a call, ok???
No, thanks, he wouldn’t.
Miss u!!!
Worried about u!!!
It was the emotional equivalent of nails on a chalkboard.
And now the phone was ringing. Three guesses as to who it was. He didn’t bother picking up, but he did text her back. I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.
He thought about turning off his cell, but he didn’t have a landline. And his grandfather had been looking a little gray lately. Jack had asked Jeremy Lyon to drop in on Pops, as the old man wouldn’t go to the doctor without a gun to his head.
He added sausage to the garlic and onions he was sautéing. This would be a good dinner. Then again, food hadn’t tasted like much these days. Oh, and there was Mrs. Johnson’s chocolate cake for dessert. He picked up his phone and called her.
“Just wanted to thank you again for my cake,” he said.
“Oh, Jackie, don’t be silly! You know I love you best,” Mrs. J. cooed.
“I do know that, and I lord it over my sisters whenever possible. And Dad.” He smiled. “What are you guys doing tonight?”
“That’s none of your business, Jack darling.”
He shuddered. “You’re right. Thanks again, Mrs. J.”
Maybe he should get a dog. Lazarus wasn’t much in the company department. As if determined to prove him wrong, the cat rubbed against Jack’s ankle in a rare show of affection, then hissed and ran under the couch.
A knock came at the door, and Jack felt his jaw tighten. He turned off the stove and went to the door. If that was Hadley, he just might call the police.
It wasn’t Hadley. It was the police, still in uniform. And the police officer’s puppy, holding a stuffed animal in his mouth.
Jack felt himself smiling. “Hey,” he said, opening the door. “How are you?”
“This is police business,” she said, already blushing. “Levi made me come.”
“I owe him one,” Jack said. “Come in. I’m making dinner. You can stay.”
“No, we’re just, um, checking.”
“For what? For dead possums?”
“Basically. Mind if I walk around your property?”
“Not at all. I’ll come with you.” He grabbed his jacket. “Hey, buddy,” Jack said, bending down to pet the puppy, who wriggled in ecstasy, then whipped his toy—a chicken—back and forth. Lazarus darted out and ran under a bush, the better to spy on the dog. Jack stood up, catching the smell of Emmaline’s shampoo.
