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“You think?” Because yes, they should, but Dante wanted it to be Dani’s idea.
“It’s the right thing to do. How will he be a good police officer if he doesn’t have decent food to eat?”
There was, of course, The Steam Donkey, Pizza Mart, and whatever quasi-food the gas station carried, but a person could only live on that for so long. Leaning down, Dante picked up the plastic basket and set it inside the cart. Was this an excuse to see André? Maybe, but it was also basic human kindness.
At least, that’s what Dante told himself.
SEVEN
André
Unknown number:You might as well send me a grocery list. Dani and I are headed to A.
Momentarily distracted, André stared at his cell phone’s screen. How the hell had Dante gotten his number? There was no one else it could be, not unless he had some very odd stalker who got his kicks from grocery lists and enjoyed driving to Aberdeen to fill them. And who also knew someone named Dani.
André: How did you get this number?
Dante: Asked the gal at the front desk. She’s very nice BTW.
André was tempted to argue with Dante. Or to lie and say he’d just been to Aberdeen and his refrigerator was full of food waiting to be cooked. Truth was, the last of the yogurt had been eaten over the weekend, and he was going to have to toss out the disgusting vegetable mush in the crisper drawer before it became sentient.
He was also going to have a chat with Carol about the importance of personal information and not giving it out to random strangers.
Dante:Don’t be mad at her. I flashed my badge and told her it was about a case.
André shut his eyes for just a second. He was still going to have to talk to her, but Dante used charm like a weapon and if anyone could pry information out of Carol, it would be him. His phone pinged again.
Dante:Groceries. Do you buy the same stuff all the time? If so, that’s easy. Yogurt/bread/milk/granola/sandwich meat/frozen pizza?
A sigh escaped André. Yes, he did buy the same stuff all the time. Cooking for one was a pain in the ass. He’d been touched the other week when, after running into Dante and his niece at the store and being forced to abandon his basket, he’d come home and found his groceries sitting on the front porch. Not that he’d sought Dante out and thanked him for it. Fine, he’d let Dante pick up groceries. This one time.
André:Yep, sounds about right. Thanks.
It felt like Dante buying groceries for him was a slippery slope. But André had more important battles to fight than agreeing to have edible food in his house. With the Christmas holiday just a few days away, André had zero desire to make the effort to go to the store. There was always popcorn, right? He’d figure out how to pay Dante back later—this, he suspected, would be tricky.
In the meantime, he had a deputy to deal with. André couldn’t force Deputy Lionel Trent to resign, but it would have made his life much easier. How the man had managed to stay on the force for over forty years was beyond the scope of André’s imagination. Incompetent was just one descriptor for the older man.Criminalwas another possibility.
Trent seemed to believe that it was his job to enforce the law. And it was. But it was also his job to protect the public. Literally, protect and serve. It hadn’t taken André long to figure out that Trent believed the public owed him and not the other way around. He greatly preferred the enforcement side.
Like many small towns, Cooper Springs still had a strong good-old-boy network, one André suspected Trent was the current president of. A friend speeding? Trent let it slide. André had noted, however, that Trent had ticketed Lizzy Harlow almost ten times. Did he think Trent was involved in her death? Truthfully, André thought Trent was too lazy for murder. And he had no evidence. Plus, Trent would know where in the county to hide a body, and in the marsh next to the old resort was not it.
The forest was much more likely.
André had spent several hours creating a spreadsheet with every ticket given by Deputy Trent—and, for comparison’s sake, Deputy Cooper—in the last three years. Hours of painstaking data entry had led André to conclude that Trent gave out significantly more moving violation tickets to women and minorities. Lani did not. André had a hard time believing it was coincidence that Trent stopped more women than men and more people of color than the overwhelming White population who lived in the area.
André firmly believed the adage, “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” Lionel Trent was smoking, and André needed to figure out exactly what the man was up to. He wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming conversation.
A knock sounded on his door, and he glanced up at the clock. It was too early for Deputy Trent; he liked to keep André waiting, especially the last few times they’d had meetings.
“Come in.”
Carol poked her head inside.
“Chief Dear, I’m afraid Deputy Trent called.”
A sigh escaped him. “Let me guess. Trent is running late?”
Carol shot him a tentative smile. “Yes. Well actually, he’s not going to make it. Apparently, something has come up.”
