really made the guys who ran the towing business in St. Louis look like pirates. One of his old buddies had told him on the phone just last week that the highest legal tow fees were approaching $500 with storage.
He ought to point that out to Mr. Harrison when the grumpy old guy came by the sheriff’s department later today, as Tripp expected he would. Maybe then, he’d appreciate the fifty dollars or so that Tripp was sure he’d work out with Max for the use of the tow truck and his “storage” lot in back of the station.
Right now, he didn’t feel like dealing with Sam Harrison. For the first time, Tripp felt like taking a cue from Hank and stopping in at the Town Hall restaurant for a cup of coffee and a chat with the unofficial city leaders who seemed to spend most of their mornings there. He got back in the car and told Verna over the radio what he was doing. She sounded as if she approved. This day was just full of first-time experiences.
Two cups of coffee and buckets of information later, Tripp strolled up the sidewalk to the office. He was beginning to get the hang of this sheriff thing. Maybe he’d look through the case files to see what he could work on before Hank got back. If things kept going this well, he might get a commendation from his boss for doing such a great job as acting sheriff.
With that fine thought in his head, he walked into the office. There was a stranger in the front room, and she wasn’t happy. She wasn’t somebody he’d met in Friedens before. No, he’d remember a woman this well dressed. Those nails she was drumming on the counter were professionally done in pale pink. The tailored summer pantsuit she wore hadn’t come straight off the rack, judging from the way it fit her slender form to perfection.
Even seeing just the back of her, Tripp could tell that the most recent cut and style of that lush cinnamon mane had cost more than his uniform. What was Ms. Society doing in Friedens, in his office? She wasn’t a stranger to Verna, at least, because the two of them were deep in conversation.
“Tripp can straighten it all out, honey” Verna was telling her.
“I’m sure.” Her voice was cultured and frosty. “Acting Sheriff Jordan is just the man I want to see.”
“Then this is your lucky day, ma’am.” It was fun to watch her startle and whirl to face him. Her look of surprise would have been gratifying—if Tripp hadn’t been so busy keeping his jaw from dropping at the beauty in her face combined with the force of her gaze. Those flashing hazel eyes could have done him in at twenty paces. It might be her lucky day, but in an instant Tripp stopped feeling as if it was his. This woman felt like trouble.
“Mr. Jordan—”
He didn’t have time to correct her before she went on.
“Kindly tell me what’s going on here. Lurlene is gone, and I only left her twenty minutes at the most. I just know you’re behind this.”
“Gone? As in missing?” Tripp’s mind was spinning. What did this gorgeous woman have against him, and why was she so sure that he was responsible for her missing friend or relation?
“Gone. As in missing.”
She wasn’t tall enough to confront him effectively, but Tripp felt like backing up, anyway, as she came toward him. “And I know nobody took her legally, because the car keys were in my pocket the whole time.”
“So do you need to report an abduction, Ms….” Tripp fished for a name.
“Abduction? Of course not.” Her eyes narrowed and one perfect fingernail poked the middle of his chest. “You have no idea who I am, or what I’m talking about, do you.”
She had him there. Tripp shook his head, hoping she’d move away from him. Just that tiny touch of one finger on his chest was having the strangest effect on him.
“Should I know who you are?” There wasn’t anybody of celebrity status he hadn’t met in town. And nobody had any movie star relatives that he knew of.
“Don’t you remember me from the wedding?”
Tripp had attended only one wedding in recent memory, and it had been Hank’s. A vague thought was growing in the back of his mind, and it could only mean trouble. His memory of the wedding guests he’d been introduced to was spotty. He hadn’t stayed for the reception because he knew Hank would be happier if someone was minding business at the sheriff’s office. Besides, Tripp didn’t like wedding receptions that much, anyway. Too fussy and fancy and mostly feminine. It was beginning to dawn on Tripp that he probably should have gone to this wedding reception for a few moments.
“Don’t tell me you’re—” he began, only to have the woman draw herself up to full height. Her glare answered his question before her words did.
“I’m Laurel Collins Harrison. And I want Lurlene back in the next ten minutes or you have some real explaining to do, mister.” There was no mistaking her tone. It was a declaration of war.
Now he knew he was in deep trouble.
Chapter Three
Her father didn’t usually hire idiots. He tended toward men who were made from the same mold he was: canny and circumspect. Surely Tripp Jordan must have struck Hank the same way—but he wasn’t doing much for Laurel. He looked like a grounded fish the way his mouth opened and shut while he tried to answer her. No, that mouth was much more attractive than a fish’s. But still, he just didn’t strike her as up to her father’s caliber.
Someone had pointed him out briefly at the wedding, but she hadn’t gone over to say hello. Since he hadn’t bothered to come to the reception, she’d never had a conversation with him. And so far, this one wasn’t going all that well.
“Laurel? As in Hank’s daughter? That’s the Collins part, right?”
Maybe he really was dense as a doorknob. “Right. And the Harrison part is as in Sam. Which is where Lurlene comes in.”
“I can’t answer for Lurlene, whoever she is. When I towed that car, it was empty. There was nobody named Lurlene in it. She must have gotten out to look for you before we got there. Or maybe she just doesn’t like officers of the law. Mr. Sam sure doesn’t.”
She shook her head. “What have you been doing for the eight months since Daddy hired you? Don’t you know anybody around here yet?”
He stood a little taller and puffed his chest out, to look threatening. It wasn’t working. She probably knew every trick in law enforcement, which meant there was little he could do to intimidate her.
“I know plenty of people. Just not this Lurlene.”
Verna coughed discreetly. “Lurlene is Mr. Sam’s old Cadillac, Tripp.”
It was a comfort to Laurel to see relief in the man’s eyes. At least he really had been concerned when he thought he’d lost a person.
As fast as the relief had come into his expression, it faded to be replaced by aggravation.
“You really had me going, Mrs. Harrison. I thought Lurlene was a person. How am I supposed to know you’re talking about that rattletrap car?”
Laurel tried not to roll her eyes. She was definitely picking up bad habits from Jeremy. “Go out on the street and ask any five people who live in
