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We drank our tea in silence after that, and about five minutes later, the dryer beeped, signaling that my clothes were dry. He handed them over to me, and I returned to the powder room so I could change out of my borrowed sweats and into my freshly dried T-shirt, jeans, and socks. My boots were still pretty waterlogged, but I pulled them on anyway, knowing I couldn’t possibly walk across the gravel-paved front path barefoot.
And after that, we headed back out to his Durango, and he drove me to the recreation area parking lot where I’d left my car. A “see you at eight,” and then he was gone.
A romantic first date, it was not. Or any kind of date. But Calvin had taken me to his house, and I figured that had to signal some kind of progression in our relationship, even if he wouldn’t admit to it.
Whistling, I backed out of my parking space. Now all I had to do was help him solve this murder, and we’d be on to something.
9
Medallions and Musings
Draggingmyself out of bed at just a little past six-thirty took a supreme effort of will, but I told myself that all progress required sacrifice and I needed to suck it up. Archie was not thrilled with me for blasting my hair dryer at the ungodly hour of seven o’clock on a Sunday morning, and watched with a jaundiced eye as I applied eye liner with far more care than I usually did.
“Hot date?” he asked sourly.
I wondered where he’d heard that term. Most of the time, his language was almost too formal, making him sound like a fussy history professor I’d had at Cal State Northridge who always wore tweed jackets, even if it was ninety degrees outside. I’d dropped out after my second year, realizing that college wasn’t my true path, but some things had stuck with me.
“No,” I said, in tones I intended to be quelling but which merely sounded petulant. “I’m helping Calvin Standingbear with something. That’s all.”
Archie didn’t appear dissuaded by my remark. He sat up on his haunches and glared at me with baleful golden eyes before saying, “The same Calvin Standingbear who took you to his house last night?”
Because when I’d gotten home at a little past seven the evening before, Archie had been waiting right in the entry, tail waving in annoyance at my tardiness. I’d been feeding him his dinner every night at precisely six-fifteen, and he’d been more than a little ticked off that I’d made him wait almost forty-five minutes for his bowl of Special Kitty kibble.
“He took me to his house because it was his fault I fell in the river and got soaked,” I replied crisply. “I already told you that. The rest of it is none of your business.”
Archie’s tail flicked back and forth in annoyance, and he let out a small hiss, but I noticed that he didn’t reply, only stalked off toward the living room, which offered the best chance of a pool of sunlight to lie in at that time of day.
Typical.
But at least I didn’t have to waste any more time arguing with him. I dabbed on some mascara, finished with lipstick, and gave my reflection a careful inspection. It was entirely possible that I was aiming a little above my pay grade by thinking Calvin would be interested in any kind of a relationship with me, but I told myself that faint heart never won hot police chief.
If nothing else, thinking about how I could flirt with him while not really flirting with him was a good way to distract myself from Lucien’s murder.
At that hour, Cloud Coffee was packed. Luckily, I’d given myself some extra time, so even though it took nearly fifteen minutes for me to get two coffees and an impulse buy of a cheese danish for Calvin and a croissant for myself, it was still just twenty minutes to eight by the time I headed east on Highway 70 for my rendezvous.
Instead of parking in the lot, I followed the forest road to the spot where he’d left his San Ramon tribal P.D. SUV the day before. My Volkswagen Beetle didn’t seem too happy about being driven over such rough terrain, but I pulled into the wide spot in the road I remembered without suffering too much damage. A minute later, Calvin appeared and parked next to me.
I grabbed the carry-out tray with the two coffees and the bag of breakfast pastries, hoping as I did so that I hadn’t screwed up by getting him a cheese danish. For all I knew, he was gluten-free and lactose-intolerant.
No, wait — he’d refused my offer of a glass of wine at the store opening, but I knew I’d seen him eat some cheese and crackers, so I guessed I was safe on that front.
“Breakfast!” I said, brandishing the bag.
He removed the aviator-style sunglasses he was wearing and looked at the white paper sack. “I didn’t ask for breakfast.”
“No,” I said cheerfully, “but I was hungry, and I figured I might as well get you something. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back home with me.”
“What is it?”
“Cheese danish.”
His expression brightened noticeably. “My favorite. From Cloud Coffee?”
“Of course.”
He took the bag from me and extracted the danish, then accepted the venti black coffee I’d gotten for him as I reflected that sometimes it was a good thing to have intuition about people. It looked as though the breakfast offering might have softened him up a bit.
For a few minutes, we ate and drank in silence, both of us obviously acknowledging that it was better to get fortified before we headed down to the river. Then he swallowed the rest of his coffee and brushed his free hand on the leg of his khaki uniform pants.
