Funny, as … gifted … as Lance-a-Lot had been as he’d made his way to the lake to retrieve the golf balls in those happy Speedos of his, the good deputy in his Florida Sheriff’s green police pants and close-fitting short-sleeved shirt turned me on the more.
But what was I to do? Nothing! Certainly not straddle him then and there. I had to remain in character, remain part of the scenery to get more information to clear my mother. I had to sit back and watch and listen. He of course, knew that I was a private investigator; he had sent the fax to my office, after all. I just hoped Deputy Almond had the good sense not to expose me in front of everyone.
I’d much rather be exposed later when we were alone.
Oh boy.
~*~
Big Eddie and Deputy Almond huddled themselves away from the crowd to converse. Glancing over to the rest of us, mumbling and jerking a thumb or nodding a head toward our group every so often. The Deputy caught my attention more than once, and I saw the hesitation there.
“You’re becoming quite the frequent visitor, Deputy.” Tish purred the words as she sashayed up to Almond. She settled a hand on his bare, tanned, muscular forearm and let it slide down.
God, her timing was inappropriate. But her taste was bang on.
“Good morning, Ms. McQueen,” Deputy Almond drawled. “You’re looking just pretty as a picture again this morning. Fresh as a daisy. Cute as a button.”
Oh, God, one more cliché and I’d puke.
Like Big Eddie, Deputy Almond seemed to know how to work the older ladies. Notice I said older ladies. Handsome as he was, I was immune to his charms.
“That’s a lovely outfit,” he said to Tish.
“This old thing?” Tish batted her eyelashes. “Why, thank you, Deputy.”
Yeah right, this old thing had the price tag still attached to the back, a fact I happened to notice when Tish did another of her dip/squeeze/show hooters thing.
Tish beamed at the Deputy, and he beamed right back at her. Smart man. He knew that a little flirting goes a long way. Well, for those folks who are susceptible to such tactics.
When Tish sashayed herself away, Deputy Almond addressed the crowd.
“Now, Big Eddie tells me we’ve had another robbery.”
We?
Mother must have caught the disconcerted raising of my eyebrows. She leaned in and whispered, “He’s been here often, and it’s a small community. Everyone knows everyone, including Deputy Almond.”
Okay, so the local cop was one of the gang. I got it. But I didn’t know if I liked that. Would that make him likelier to believe the gossip about my mother?
“This wasn’t just any old robbery!” Harriet jumped from her chair. “My grandmother’s antique ring was stolen!” She glanced at me before she continued. “And I know it was Katt Dodd. Most likely with the assistance of her thieving, smut-talking daughter, Dix Dodd.”
Excuse me?
I was about to step out of Dix Dodd erotica writer mode and into Dix Dodd geriatric ass kicker mode, but it was the Deputy who opened his mouth first.
“Now, Mrs. Appleton … Harriet.” There was no sweetness here, no flirting and flattering. “If you’ve got any proof of your accusations, then I want to hear all about it. In fact, I’ll want to talk to all of you.” He scanned the room. “But first, I have to check out the crime scene.”
Of course he’d want to talk to everyone.
Harriet stood. Wiggie stood up right after her, as if pulled by a string. Together with the Deputy and Big Eddie in full taker-charger mode, they headed out of the rec room.
“There goes Lance-a-Lot,” Mona called. But few heads turned toward the window to see.
I ventured a glance though the window at the wonder wood coming out of the water. He walked with all the bravado of a professional stripper. He dropped the bag of golf balls on the green, their wet whiteness shining in the sun. He raked his hands through his hair, arched his tanned body in a stretch, and smiled toward the rec room. Oh this guy was a showman. Pity no one was watching the show.
I glanced at Mom. Her gaze appeared to follow Lance-a-Lot as he shook himself and got into his car, but I knew she wasn’t really seeing him. Though she smiled and projected a damned good ‘haven’t-a-care-in-the-world’ attitude that probably fooled some of the residents, it didn’t fool me. I knew she was faking it. But I admired her fuck you face. She refused to let them see her sweat, and I was so proud of her.
It turned out to be a long afternoon. I’m sure every resident of the Wildoh strolled into the rec room at least once over the course of it. Of course, that had something to do with the fact that Deputy Almond had made the polite ‘request’ that all residents come in and answer a few questions. Who could refuse? Everyone wanted these thefts cleared up and the thief caught. Refusal meant suspicion. Suspicion meant rumors breaking out. In a small community like the Wildoh — a rumor would travel like the wind once it was broken.
Nobody wanted to break wind.
Slowly but surely Deputy Almond made his way through the interviews. After his inspection of the Appleton suite (yes, the lock appeared to have been picked, yes he dusted for prints, no he didn’t find any, and yes, double dammit, he did see a picture of Harriet’s antique ring and the insurance papers). It had been a doozie.
Deputy Almond set himself up in a little room off the side of the rec room. Sort of a kitchen-type thing. (Okay, I guess those in the know might actually call it a kitchenette, but when your domestic skills are as non-existent as mind are, it’s a kitchen-type thing). It held a little two-burner stove, a fridge that might hold two cases of beer, tops, the world’s smallest table, and two God-awful plastic orange chairs. The room was glassed-in, which allowed me to watch the interviewing process. Of course, it also allowed Deputy Almond to scan the crowd of those who waited to see who was nervous and who wasn’t, who talked to whom. Who tried to stroll toward the door, who watched the door. Smart man.
Smart, good looking, totally ripped man.
Time and time again, as the Deputy finished an interview and escorted the person out, he would pause to meet briefly with Big Eddie. The two of them would confer, then scan the rest of us in the room. The Deputy would nod, then Big Eddie would step forward and call a name. Jesus, it was like a junior high school dance, without the testosterone. Hell, without the estrogen in most cases. But breaths caught and tension rose when the Wildoh residents waited to see who was next.
I kept my gaze averted from Big Eddie. Kept it ducked every time so as to not get the ‘you’re next’ with a nod and authoritative jerk of the taker-charger thumb. Not because I was intimidated or scared. Not at all. But because the longer I was here, the longer I could watch the residents react to the police presence. One at a time.
Oh, and it gave me plenty of time to get my ass whooped at crib.
Mona hauled out the cribbage board when it was evident we’d be there for a spell. She called out, “Who’s up for a game while we wait?”
Surprisingly, some of us were.
Not that I like crib. Nor that I’m any good at it. But as I watched Mona head toward the small card table at the back of the room, crib was just an excellent idea.
I took one of the chairs (more of the plastic orange variety) and sat with my back toward to the wall so I’d get the best view of the interview room. Mom sat across from me; she had no desire to know what was going on behind her in that small room. This wasn’t easy for her. A tall redheaded gentleman, Roger Cassidy — who did a slight little bow thing that was really kind of charming — sat on my right. Mona sat on my left. She squeezed mom’s hand once, shuffled the cards with a flash and flair that would shame a Vegas dealer and started passing out the cards. We played cut-throat, every man for himself. The stakes, at Mona’s suggestion, were two bucks a game, double for skunk. Of course, she won repeatedly. She played with a ferociousness that hockey coaches would love to bottle, pegging the bejesus out of me. Of course, it didn’t help that I was distracted.