“Is that why the chief of police called our office a couple months ago to check on your background?”
A brief image of devouring the whole plate of maple syrup candies and sending myself into a sugar coma flashed through my mind. Chief McTavish’s phone call to check into me during the last case I’d worked explained why she was here. This was probably the first chance she had to get away from the office and her cases since Chief McTavish researched me after I agreed to serve as defense council for a friend’s niece. I should have known that wouldn’t escape my parents’ notice. Nothing in their office did.
“You wouldn’t be defending people here if you didn’t miss it,” my mom said. “You belong back at the firm with us.”
I shoved a whole candy chunk into my mouth. It stuck my cheek out like a chipmunk’s, which would annoy my mom. As an added bonus, it gave me some time to come up with an answer.
Because now telling her about my—our—consulting role with the Fair Haven police would only seem to prove her point.
I chewed and swallowed down the candy. “I’m not defending people. That was one time.”
Technically two times, but since she only knew about my last time, I wasn’t about to tell her about Bonnie. I hadn’t so much defended her as helped her get the best possible plea deal anyway.
My mom rested her hand on the counter beside mine, the closet she’d come to a motherly touch. “I’m worried about you, Nicole. I don’t want you to regret it once it’s too late for you to turn back.”
I was worried about me, too. My track record for decisions wasn’t good. But that was just one more thing I couldn’t tell her.
And now I was starting to get genuinely worried about my dogs. Even if they didn’t hear me come in, they should have heard the raised voices. “Where are Velma and Toby?”
“A very round man came by to see how Mandy was doing. They decided to take the dogs for a walk.”
The only man who fit that description was Russ, my business partner. At least the dogs were safe, and probably having a lot more fun than I was.
Why couldn’t my mom be a normal mom? She’d come for a visit and we’d see the sights, go shopping, maybe pop some popcorn and watch a movie. Then again, thinking back, I didn’t remember ever watching a movie with my mom. All my memories of watching movies growing up were with my Uncle Stan. On the weekends when my parents weren’t working, they’d taken me to museums and art galleries, but the offer to go visit the local chainsaw and logging museum wasn’t likely to distract my mom from why she’d come or from the fact that I was, in fact, part of a new case. It’d only make her more determined to bring me home, by whatever means necessary.
My mom had her hands on her hips now, making it clear she expected us to return to what we’d been talking about.
My phone beeped. The look on my mom’s face said don’t-you-dare.
I yanked it from my pocket. I’d never been a rebellious child. Maybe I was going through a wild streak…if you could call answering my cell phone in the middle of a conversation wild.
The text was from Erik. Are you able to come in and sign the forms tonight? I’d like to interview the B&B staff tomorrow and chief wants you involved.
“Nicole.” Even though my mom didn’t use my middle name again, there was a warning tone in her voice that I knew better than to ignore.
Maybe I could still swing this to my advantage.
I held my phone out so she could read the screen. “I can work here as easily as I can work back in DC. I have a case right now. We both do.”
6
“You didn’t tell me we were working for the police,” my mom whispered as we signed the paperwork.
Maybe my omission was petty and childish, but I’d rather think about it as smart. To save face, she wasn’t able to walk away once we were there and reading the forms. Or, I should say, once my mom was reading the forms. They were the same ones I’d signed when I’d worked as a consultant for the department back in January. At least this time I wouldn’t end up nearly freezing to death out in the woods.
Strangely, my mom sounded less annoyed at my small deception than I’d expected. An uncomfortable feeling, heavy and tight, settled at the pit of my throat. Why did it suddenly feel like she’d played me rather than the other way around?
My mom handed the signed forms back to Erik. He’d been less talkative than usual since we arrived, his lips drawn and shoulders stiff beyond his normal military bearing. It was the bloodshot eyes that gave him away, though. He wasn’t as sick as Chief McTavish, but he was heading there.
He slid the forms into a folder. “The missing manager’s name is Bruce Vilsack, and we’ve already talked to his family and checked his apartment. No one’s heard from him, and his roommate says he hasn’t been home.”
His voice carried an extra layer of gravel that hinted at a sore throat as well. Erik took his position seriously enough that, with Chief McTavish already out sick, he’d have to be on the verge of being admitted to the hospital before he’d call in sick himself. Hopefully I could at least take some of the burden of this case off of him. If as many officers were already out sick as Chief McTavish suggested, Erik was probably not only sick but also pulling double shifts.
“Do you have the DNA results back from the blood?” my mom asked. “To confirm that he’s our victim.”
Erik’s glance slid my way just enough that I saw it. “Thanks to Mark and his strings.”
I licked my lips to cover up a smile. Thank you, Erik. As sick as you are, you’re still trying to help me out by praising my boyfriend in front of my mom.
“The DNA’s a match with the sample we took from Vilsack’s apartment,” Erik said. “That’s all we have results on for now. I’m about to release The Sunburnt Arms, but it’ll be a bit before the lab finishes testing anything relevant.”
My mom ran her fingers down the length of her pen. I’d almost forgotten how small her tells were compared to most people’s. Fiddling with her pen and not controlling the direction of the conversation were dead giveaways. She was struggling to adjust to the new role. Normally by the time she and my dad got involved, the police had already built up more of a case, a strong enough one that my parents’ client felt the need to call them in.
I’d found that the questions weren’t that different from the ones we were used to. It was simply the reasons for asking them and the angle of approach that differed.
A tingle went up my spine that felt almost like confidence. I didn’t often get the chance to take the lead from one of my parents. “You asked about enemies?”
“Of course.”
Erik’s tone had a bit of a bite to it—whether because he was sick or because the chief thought he needed not one but two consultants, I wasn’t sure. Erik tended to be humbler than he should be, so my guess was the former.
He must have realized how he sounded too because he put obvious effort into softening his features. “The family claims he didn’t have any enemies.”
My mom inclined her head slightly to one side like her body was trying to help her make the switch in thinking. “The victim’s family always does. But the victims always do.”
The cynicism sounded like a false note in my ears, but she was right. Even good people had enemies, deservedly or not.
Erik turned his head into his arm and coughed. “His roommate said he liked to move from woman to woman. He didn’t think any of the women Vilsack went out with were angry enough with him when it ended to kill him, but I asked him to make a list of anyone whose name he remembered anyway.”
