which appeared deserted. Although the place was popular in the early evenings, after seven-thirty or so most people had already eaten and left.
Frank gestured her toward a nearby booth and he slid into one side while she took the seat across from him. It took only a second for one of the two waitresses to appear at the booth.
“Two coffees,” Frank said with a questioning look at Marlene.
She nodded and folded her arms as if creating an unconscious barrier between them. Frank leaned back against the booth, hoping that he didn’t appear intimidating. He’d been told many times that he came off a bit stern when interrogating people.
He forced a smile. She didn’t return it. He cleared his throat with a touch of discomfort and pulled a small pad and pen from his jacket pocket. “Why didn’t you call us last night when you caught Michael stealing?”
She released a faint sigh and unfolded her arms. “He’s just a kid. I didn’t want to cause him any real legal issues. I told him to put down the box he was trying to sneak out to his car and to leave and not come back.”
“What was in the box?”
Her slender shoulders lifted and then fell. “A couple loaves of bread, a couple jars of apple butter, some cheese and a jar of pickles. I can’t imagine why he’d risk a job for what would have cost him so little, and if he had told us he was hungry, Sheri would have given him whatever he wanted to eat.”
The conversation halted for a moment as the waitress appeared with their coffee. Frank frowned thoughtfully as she left them once again. “And what was it that he stole from Roxy’s restaurant?”
“About half a ham. Both times he stole far more food than he could eat by himself. Sheri and I were speculating this afternoon if maybe his parents are having some sort of financial troubles.”
“I know Sean and Kim Arello and they’re doing just fine. They definitely don’t need Michael to steal food for their dinner table.”
The conversation halted again as the waitress reappeared at the table to offer warm-ups for the coffee they’d barely touched. Marlene instantly curled her long, manicured fingers around the cup and looked as though she’d rather be on another planet than seated at the booth across from him.
“Anyone else been giving you problems? Either at the store or in your personal life?” he asked when the waitress had departed.
“The store is my personal life,” she replied. “I’ve only been back in town about a year, and no, nobody has been giving me any problems.” She raised the cup to her lips and took a sip of the coffee, then carefully placed the cup back where it had been. “I haven’t had any issues with anyone that I’m aware of.”
“I’m sure it was probably Michael or one of his friends,” he said. She finally met his gaze, and beneath the cool blue of her eyes, he thought he saw more than uncertainty. He thought he saw a whisper of sheer terror.
It was a response that appeared to be a bit over the top for the situation, and in all his dealings with Marlene throughout the investigation of her missing aunt Liz, she hadn’t struck him as the over-the-top type.
Maybe he was mistaking the terror for secrets―and there was nothing that intrigued Frank more than a beautiful blonde with secrets.
Chapter 2
They hadn’t been sitting very long before Jimmy found them, breaking the awkward silence that had again descended between them. Marlene had always found Frank incredibly handsome and equally intimidating.
With a touch of premature silver at the temples in his dark hair, and a face that featured sharp angles and keen blue eyes, he emanated steely hardness with a touch of male elegance.
“Nothing on the door,” Jimmy said as he slid into the booth next to Frank. “It looks to me like whoever got in used his shoulder and just broke through the flimsy lock.” He smiled apologetically at Marlene. “It was a crappy lock. I noticed you have a dead bolt. Was it locked when you left the apartment earlier?”
“Not the dead bolt, just the other one. I normally don’t use the dead bolt unless I’m at home,” she explained.
“I tried to pull some prints from some of the bigger pieces of the broken dishes, but I got nada. Most of the pieces were too small to even try to pull up any prints. Sorry I couldn’t be any more help.”
“I appreciate you trying,” she replied.
“I did manage to get the door back on the frame so that the dead bolt still works okay, but if I were you I’d have Larry Samson come over and just put in a new door and locking system,” Jimmy said. “Anything else you need, partner?”
“No thanks, Jimmy. I’ll take it from here.”
Jimmy stood and grabbed his bag from the floor. “Good luck, Marlene. I’m sure we’ll be talking soon again, in any case.”
“Thank you, Jimmy.” She also stood, more than ready to get back to her place and start the cleanup. If she thought she was going to get rid of Frank that easily she was sadly mistaken.
He was instantly at her heels and fell into step with her as they crossed the street once again. “I’ll check out Michael Arello, but first I’ll help you with the cleanup.”
“That’s not necessary,” she protested.
“I insist,” he replied with a hint of toughness in his tone that instantly stiffened her back. “I still want to do a thorough sweep to make sure Jimmy didn’t overlook anything.”
She hated the invasion into her personal space. She hated that this had happened at all. The unexplained disappearance of her aunt Liz had already shaken her badly. This assault to her things, to her very sense of safety, was the last thing she needed. All she wanted to do for the remainder of the night was to dead-bolt her door and curl up into a ball in the middle of her pink bedspread and pretend that everything was all right.
But it was impossible to pretend that everything was all right with Detective Frank Delaney climbing the stairs just behind her.
Stepping into the apartment, she was again struck by how senseless the crime had been. “Do you have a broom?” Frank asked.
She looked at him in surprise.
He offered her a small smile that lit his eyes with unexpected warmth. “I figured I could sweep up in here and you could go into the bedroom and check out your clothing situation...see if anything has been damaged.”
“Okay, if that’s the way you want to do it.” She pulled a broom and dustpan from the small pantry closet. She handed him both. “Knock yourself out.”
She turned and went into her bedroom, where an array of clothing was cast about the top of the bed and the floor like a designer gone mad. She began checking each item as she placed it back in the drawers and hung things back in the closet. No damage, but an outrage built inside her at the fact that somebody had come into her home and touched her things.
She tamped down the outrage, instead reaching for the numbness of emotions that had held her in good stead for the past year of her life.
As
