The Paper Detective. E. Joan Sims

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      “Not on your life. And no, I don’t think it would occur to him to sue, but he should. It was a major breach of privacy. I can’t believe you let this happen, Pam.”

      “I’m really sorry, Paisley. All I can say is that I never thought anyone would be able to put enough information together to locate exactly where the man lived. One log cabin looks like another to me, and big red dogs are a dime a dozen. But I’ll scratch the Web page tomorrow. And I’ll send Bert a personal letter of apology. Anything else I should do?”

      I sighed deeply, “No, I guess not.”

      “Are you still hot for this guy?”

      “Pam, I never said I was hot for anyone. As a matter of fact, I’m perfectly happy on my own. I have been quite content to be independent and free of some man telling me what to do, thank you very much. Bert Atkins is way too bossy and obstinate, and on top of that, he’s stingy with his hearing aid batteries.”

      “What? Atkins is deaf?”

      “As a door knob.”

      “Then that must be why he can’t hear your little heart going pitter pat every time he comes near.”

      “Goodnight!” I shouted.

      Mother was in the kitchen warming up milk when I stomped in looking for something to eat. She had on her new floor-length red velvet dressing gown, and even though she was ready for bed, she looked like a million dollars. There wasn’t a silver-white hair out of place, and the lack of makeup only accentuated her patrician good looks.

      She looked at my own disheveled appearance and decided quite wrongly that now was the time for some maternal guidance.

      “Paisley, dear, you must control yourself. You have been a veritable hurricane of emotion lately. I’m so glad my parents taught me to keep my feelings to myself. Your sleeve is not the place to wear your heart. Paisley, where are you going?”

      “Arrrgh!”

      “You sound just like Aggie, dear. That is so amusing.”

      “’Night, Mother!”

      My bedroom was chilly. I slipped into my pajamas as quickly as possible and crawled under the fluffy down comforter on my bed.

      I closed my eyes knowing that sleep was a long way off. There were too many things whizzing through my mind. It took longer than usual for my body heat to warm up the little cocoon between me and my duvet. I shivered and found myself wishing for the warmth of the big fireplace in Bert’s cabin.

      With some effort, I managed to put all thoughts of Bert and the time we’d spent together out of my mind and concentrate on the problem at hand. After about an hour of brain work, I decided that something other than the magazine interview and Web page had directed Bert’s would-be killer to the cozy little cabin on the lake. The answer might be somewhere in one of my books, but I really had a hard time accepting that premise. It was far more logical to assume that the dead man really was one of Bert’s enemies. After all, he had spent a lifetime making them.

      Before I fell asleep, I decided to go about finding the answer the same way Leonard would: eliminate the obvious before you worry about the unknown.

      The next morning, I called Danny to ask some questions about the man his stepfather had shot.

      “Miz DeLeon, you know I’m not allowed to tell you anything about a case under investigation.”

      “I didn’t ask you who he was, Danny. I asked you if you knew who he was.”

      “Well, okay, that’s different,” he sighed. “We ran his fingerprints through the national computer data base. We uncovered his identity late yesterday. More than that I really couldn’t say.”

      “Just tell me this much, please,” I begged with my fingers crossed. “Where is he from?”

      “Sorry, Miz DeLeon.”

      I hung up the phone thinking that if I were still a possible candidate for mother-in-law, Danny might have been more forthcoming. But that was unfair. He was just doing his job. Then it occurred to me that he might have informed law enforcement agencies in neighboring counties of the incident. The Chief of Police in Rowan Springs was Andy Joiner. We had become good friends since I came back here to live. Maybe he would tell me what Danny had found out.

      I always enjoyed driving to town. Each time I circled the courthouse square, I was happy that I had come back home again. Everywhere I looked, I saw a familiar smiling face. Rowan Springs was like the Baby Bear’s bowl of porridge, it was just right. It was small enough that you knew almost everyone, but large enough to maintain a semblance of privacy. I loved it.

      Andy Joiner had been Chief of Police in Rowan Springs for the last ten years. He was fair and firm and fiercely honest. I trusted him, and his wife liked my books.

      Andy’s new office was next to the station house of the fire department. Fire trucks were high on my list of favorite things. Rowan Springs had just bought a new one and I hadn’t seen it yet. Despite the cold weather, the huge garage door was open. Inside, two firemen in heavy sweaters and boots were waxing the big shiny red truck. I stood and watched admiringly as they polished mirrors and chrome fittings until they sparkled.

      “You should see your face! That’s the same way Constance looks when we go by Wood’s Jewelry Store and she sees that diamond pendant she wants in the window.”

      I turned and smiled at the tall rangy man in khakis.

      “Buy it for her, Andy. I’m surprised you didn’t get it for Christmas.”

      “You’re looking at the reason Connie didn’t get her pendant.”

      “The fire truck? Why?”

      He gave me a wry smile and tucked his big hands in his pockets.

      “Come on in the office. It’s cold out here.”

      Andy held the door open and ushered me inside. The four white walls of his new digs reminded me of the inside of a white plastic ice bucket. A few pieces of cheap chrome office furniture and ugly grey commercial carpet did nothing to warm the place. The run-down office he used to have on the other side of the square had a lot more character.

      He sat uncomfortably stiff behind the white Formica table that was his new desk while I sat opposite him in an ugly black vinyl director’s chair. He looked at me from underneath bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows.

      “Awful, ain’t it?” he acknowledged.

      We looked at each other and laughed heartily. I finally wiped my eyes and answered him.

      “I take it Constance didn’t get to decorate?”

      “Something like that,” he nodded. “This is the new format for the state. All the new county offices have to follow the same pattern. The powers that be don’t want money spent on anything but the basics.”

      “Give it some time, Andy. You’ll warm up the place. And those powers will probably be gone in another three years.”

      “I just hope I can СКАЧАТЬ