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He did give her a job looking up cold cases while he sent his chief deputy working wrecks with the highway patrol and his volunteer deputies checking out reports of vandalism and petty theft.
Meadow came across an interesting cold case, that of a stolen antique pipe organ that had once belonged to a famous politician. It was said to be his grandmother’s. It had vanished four years earlier about the time a fire had burned down the local tourist attraction where the politician had lived.
“Are you sure it didn’t burn down in the fire?” Jeff asked Meadow when she described the case to him.
“There was enough left to be sure that an organ wasn’t with the destroyed furnishings,” she replied. “I talked to the fire chief. He remembered the case. He said that it was very probably an arson case, but since it was set with pine kindling and newspaper, there wasn’t enough evidence to trace a suspect.”
“Four years ago.” Jeff frowned. “I remember the case. We investigated. In fact, we had Mike Markson take a look at a similar organ we found in an antique catalog. The thing was worth over fifty thousand dollars. But the stolen one never turned up. Honestly, I’m not sure we’d have recognized it, if it had. An organ’s an organ. We did have Mike and Gary look out for anybody local selling one.”
“They never had an inquiry?”
He shook his head. “Mike deals mostly in period furniture and lamps, he’s not musical. And Gary certainly isn’t. When he saw the photo we used for comparison, he thought it was a player piano.” He chuckled.
“We can’t all be musical, I guess,” she agreed.
He checked his watch. “Go home,” he said. “It’s quitting time. I like what you’re doing with those cold case files, by the way,” he added. “None of us ever thought about putting them on the computer.”
She smiled. “It’s easier to check and cross-reference them if you have them on disc,” she said. “Sorry, but your filing system is . . . how can I put this . . . antiquated?”
“Obsolete,” he corrected with a grin. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings.” He gave her a long look. “How about supper?”
Her eyebrows arched.
“Just supper,” he added lazily. “I have no plans to propose over dessert.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh. Well, okay. That would be nice. I haven’t even thought about what I was going to cook.”
“You can cook?”
She gave him a speaking look. “I can make homemade bread and French pastries,” she said haughtily. “My grandmother taught me, years ago.”
“I can put those cans of biscuits in a pan and bake them,” he said. “Otherwise, it’s TV dinners.”
“No wonder you’re so slender,” she chided.
He chuckled. “Well, that’s mostly because I’m always running. If it isn’t the job, it’s working cattle.”
“I forgot. You have a ranch.”
He nodded. “It joins on the north side of your father’s property,” he said. He looked out the window. “And it looks as if our first snow is only a day or two away. We’ll be out beating the bushes for stray cattle.”
She frowned. Should she be worried about that? “Oh, dear,” she said. “I guess I should be thinking about that, too.”
“You have capable cowboys who’ll do that for you,” he assured her. “Nothing to worry about.”
She grimaced. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed. “I’ve never had to run a ranch. Dad knew all that stuff, but I wasn’t interested in learning, so I never listened to him talk about management.” She sighed. “I hope the whole outfit doesn’t go on the rocks because of me.”
He bit his tongue to keep from making her an offer for the place right then. He had to bide his time.Slow, Jeff, he told himself,you have to go slow.
“We’ll have supper at the Chinese place, if that’s okay.”
“I love sesame chicken,” she confessed.
He laughed. “I like chow mein. But, hey, it’s still Chinese.”
“Got a point. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up about six.”
