got some heavy hitters in your corner, however.” He glanced at the file folder lying open on his desk. “A kennel has been set up near the parking lot for the dog.” He fixed her with a piercing stare. “It’s your job to keep it clean.”
“Of course,” she said without hesitation.
Lieutenant Carlson had said she would be better off in a small town, where she wouldn’t be up against the kinds of violent cases she’d handled in L.A. He hadn’t said anything about her new boss not being entirely happy with her arrival there. Still, he was friendlier than most would be in this situation.
“Since you’ve already got the training, I’ll just throw you into the shark pool,” he told her. “Fine by you?”
“The only way to do it,” she replied.
Roy nodded. “But let me tell you. You screw up and I come down hard. I don’t care if you do have a dog that can eat me for breakfast.” He warily eyed the German shepherd. “Literally.”
“Jinx hasn’t bitten an officer in, oh, at least a month,” she said, matching his tone.
He chuckled. “How’d a deputy K-9 end up with a name like Jinx?”
“He comes from a distinguished line of police dogs,” she replied. “His sire is Ace, as in Ace of Spades. His dam is Allie, as in Poker Alice. The litter Jinx was in was born on Friday the thirteenth. Each puppy received a similar name. The breeder’s twisted logic.”
“And he left L.A. when you did.”
“It happens a lot. When you work with a dog as your partner, you develop as close a relationship as you do with a human partner. In many ways, closer.”
Roy’s eyes tracked her every feature. “Then you’ll understand that we’re a close unit here, Detective. We’ve all worked together a long time.”
“And new people have to prove their worth before they can hope to be accepted,” she stated, finishing his thought. “I understand that. I believe in pulling my weight.”
“Good.” He stood up. “I’ll show you your desk.”
Bree didn’t say a word when she was led to a battered desk stuck in a corner. Roy rattled off names as he passed each desk. She nodded and offered each deputy a brief smile. She wasn’t surprised to receive speculative looks in return.
It was a good thing she hadn’t expected an open-armed welcome.
Jinx lay down next to her desk and rested his chin on his paws. She idly scratched the top of his head.
“It’s only the first day, boy,” she murmured.
“Tell me, oh powerful one, do you plan to do anything useful today or just sit there and look cute?”
Tipped back in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk, Cole Becker looked up at his assistant. This was his favorite position when he needed to proofread the advertisements for that week.
When his uncle died, leaving him the newspaper, Cole took it over. He became not only the owner of the Warm Springs Bulletin, but reporter and staff photographer. He wore many hats in the office.
“I am doing something useful.” He gestured to the sheaf of papers he held in one hand. “I’m making sure Whitman’s name is spelled correctly. I don’t think he’d be so amiable if it happened again.”
Mamie Eichorn chuckled. “I don’t know. Substituting an S for the W told everyone what the mean old coot is really like.”
“Maybe so, but that mean old coot pays his bills on time,” Cole reminded her.
“And each time acts as if we’re bleeding him dry.” She rolled her eyes.
“I hear there’s a new cop in town,” he commented. “A story about her would make a good human interest piece. Nothing better than a mom with kids. And there’s even a dog. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn’t it?”
“I heard the dog is her partner,” Mamie noted.
“Even better on the human interest angle.” Cole picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. He believed in doing his homework ahead of time. By talking to a couple of contacts in L.A., he’d been able to pick up a lot of information about the former Los Angeles Sheriff’s Detective, Bree Fitzpatrick. He’d even had a photograph faxed to him—of the widow standing tall at her husband’s funeral. Cole had heard an impressive listing of the woman’s accomplishments.
Unlike the proper widow, Cole was a complete contradiction. He looked like one of those guys who didn’t move a muscle unless it was absolutely necessary. Only those who knew him well understood that his body and mind could move swift as lightning when he needed to.
“I called over to the station, but the new detective is in with Roy.” He spoke in a low rumble that slid like warm lotion over a woman’s skin. “Think you could find out the new detective’s home telephone number for me?”
Even Mamie, who’d been happily married for the past fifty-six years, wasn’t immune to Cole’s lethal charm.
“The woman hasn’t even settled in and you’re already calling her up for a date? She has children, Cole. I thought you drew the line at women with families.”
He agreed. “I do. Too much trouble. This is business, Mamie.”
“Like I’ll believe that,” she retorted. “You’re not getting any younger, Cole. Finding someone with a ready-made family is a good way for you to go. Saves a lot of time.”
“You make it sound like my sperm’s in some retirement home. Herb Dickinson became a father last year, and he’s in his late seventies,” Cole pointed out in his defense.
Mamie shook her head. “Herb needs new glasses. That baby looks more like their pool man than he looks like Herb, even if the kid’s as bald as his alleged daddy.”
“There you go.” He grinned. “Herb doesn’t care who the baby looks like. He’s just happy everyone’s calling him a stud.”
“Some stud,” she snorted with disdain. “Herb has an artificial hip, a glass eye and high blood pressure.”
“And a twenty-eight-year-old wife. I’d say the man did something right.”
Mamie blithely ignored him as she continued. “If you don’t do something about your social life, you’ll be worse off than him.”
“That’s why I go out of town.”
Mamie shook her head. “So what’s next on your agenda?”
Cole flashed her a warm smile. “I guess I’ll just have to call over to the sheriff’s station again. See about setting up an interview with our new sheriff’s detective.”
His assistant shot him a knowing look. “And you say it’s business only.”
Cole played it cool. “You got it.”
Mamie
