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“It would be a long shot,” he said. “But we might get lucky.”
“I still have some contacts in the Bureau, if you need them,” she added. She smiled sheepishly. “Well, I have at least one who might contact me if he didn’t recognize my name. I sort of messed up.”
He frowned. “How?”
She drew in a breath. “Tripped over my own feet and discharged a weapon into the windshield of a bucar while chasing a suspect.” The reference she used was what agents called an FBI vehicle—a bucar.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “First case I ever worked, we’d had an ice storm and I was chasing a suspect down a long hill. Long story short, I went sideways in a skid, forgot to correct, and ended up in the river.”
“Oh, gosh!” she said. “Did you get frostbite?”
He laughed. “You’re the first person who was more concerned with my welfare than the car’s.”
She shrugged. “You can replace cars. People, not so much.”
“I knew I liked you,” he said softly.
She flushed. “Thanks. You’re nice, too.”
“And now that we’ve worked that out, how about getting down to business?” Jeff asked, lounging against the door facing.
“Can I have a plane ticket to New York?” Gil asked abruptly.
Jeff’s eyebrows arched. “I’m not that mad.”
Gil chuckled. “It’s about that pipe organ cold case I’m working.”
Jeff grimaced. “While I applaud your enthusiasm, I can just see myself standing in front of the county commission trying to explain why I funded a trip to New York over a pipe organ theft.”
Gil drew in a breath. “It was worth a try. Okay, I’ll see what I can do with the computer and Skype.”
“Now that’s a good idea,” Jeff said.
“The plane ticket would have been a better one,” the undersheriff retorted before he retreated to his desk.
“I’m still looking for the Victorian lamp,” Meadow told the sheriff. “I just have a hunch that it’s connected to the pipe organ cold case. Both valuable antiques, both stolen locally.”
“There’s a definite pattern,” Jeff admitted. “But they’re minor cases,” he pointed out. “We have five assaults, four burglaries of jewels and cash, three attempted robberies, two forged checks . . .”
“And a partridge in a pear tree,” Meadow blurted out, flushed, and then laughed as Jeff started chuckling. “In my defense, it’s almost Christmas,” she pointed out.
“So it is. There’s a Christmas party at the civic center next Saturday. Will you go with me?”
She hesitated. “Is it formal?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“If it is, I can’t go,” she said sadly. “I only own one dress. I’d be embarrassed to wear it twice in a row.”
His eyebrows reached for his hairline. “Why?”
“I wear . . . I wore . . . pantsuits to work.” She glowered at him. “Well, it’s not dignified to chase fugitives wearing short skirts and tights and high heels. It’s not very efficient, either.”
He cocked his head and studied her. She was wearing yet another pantsuit, this one in dark blue with a simple white blouse. She looked oddly elegant in it, but less feminine than Dana Conyers, whom he’d taken to the dance last year—before they argued. Dana wore sexy things. He loved the way she looked in them. He frowned as he thought about the way they’d argued. Dana would be at the party, he was certain of it, and with Dal.
“Do I look that bad?” Meadow asked.
“What?”
