Page 6 of Mr. B

“We should call…Ronald.”

“Roland.”

“Whatever.”

“I’ll get it.” The lock finally turned, and Wes looked at Cassandra before opening the drawer.

She scowled. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

The only thing in the drawer was a pile of old lottery tickets and scratchers. Wes picked up a few of them. “Seems Brian had another obsession.”

“Why did he lock them up?”

“Maybe he didn’t want his wife to know how much money he was blowing on them.”

“Why didn’t he throw them away?”

Wes dropped the tickets into the drawer. “The real question is, do we pack them with his stuff, or get rid of them?”

“If he’s hiding them from his wife, then… We should throw them away.”

“I agree.” Wes stood. “Problem solved.”

“How come you know how to pick a lock?”

“Justin taught me.”

“Your brother, the sheriff?”

“Yes. He thought it might come in handy if I ever needed to get into a student locker or something.”

“You can do that?”

“Under the right circumstances, yeah.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Wes stood. “Pep rally this afternoon.”

“What time?”

“Two. You need to get plugged into the calendar and the daily schedule.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

Wes nodded. “You’re not required to go to the rally.”

“I’d like to jump right in and get to know everyone.”

Cassandra spent a lot of time straightening her curly blonde hair when he knew her last. But now, it seemed she embraced the mess of curls circling her face. Hating that he’d noticed, he grumbled, “Right. Okay.” He headed for the door.

“So, once I get Brian’s things out of here…”

“It’s your office. Do whatever you want to it.” He stopped at the door. “Within reason.”

“So, I can hang my seventeen-year-old poster from the Boise Summer Music Festival behind my desk?”

Wes looked at her for a moment, then walked out the door and closed it behind him.