Midnight Cravings. Elizabeth Harbison

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      “How?” Amazing. As if she didn’t already have enough to handle, now she had to free the police from jail. It was incredible. This was like a bad sitcom.

      “I, uh, left the keys in there on the wall.”

      She looked around at the walls. There was nothing on them except the clock, some FBI Wanted posters that looked to be several years old, and a Vargas Girl calendar that was, on closer inspection, from 1959.

      “I don’t see any keys hanging on the wall,” she called.

      “Must have left them in my desk, then,” the voice returned. “See the desk by the door? One with the pinup-girls calendar?”

      “Yes.”

      “Try the top drawer.”

      She couldn’t believe she had to release the deputy from a jail cell before she could report her stolen bags. How in the world did she end up in this ridiculous town? Why wasn’t it rife with criminals, since the police were so inept?

      If she weren’t an honest person she’d consider robbing a bank right about now.

      In fact, if things with Page-turner didn’t work out after this weekend, she’d keep it in mind, she thought wryly.

      “I’m looking,” she said, opening the drawer. There were some pens and pencils, a couple of paper clips bent out of shape, a pack of cinnamon gum, a set of handcuffs and a cracked black-and-white photo of a handsome young man in a police uniform, flanked by what appeared to be his proud parents.

      Josie lingered on the picture for a moment, wondering who the man was and what his story was, then set it down.

      “Find them?” the voice called from the back.

      “Not yet.”

      “Look in the back of the drawer.”

      She pulled it out as far as it would go, then reached in. Sure enough, she snagged a set of keys on a large brass ring. “I think I found them,” she said, slamming the drawer shut just as the front door creaked open and Dan Duvall came in.

      “Officer Duvall,” she said in a clipped voice, closing her hand around the cold set of keys. “I thought you were too busy to come into the station.”

      For a moment he didn’t speak. He looked at her, then at the key ring in her hand. Then he asked, “What the hell are you doing going through my desk?”

      Chapter Two

      CHOCOLATE PUDDING

       (from page 86 of The Way to a Man’s Heart by Beatrice Beaujold)

      Chocolate makes you feel like you’re in love…or in lust. The better the chocolate, the better the lust….

      1 cup sugar

      ¼ cup cornstarch

      ½ teaspoon salt

      ¼ teaspoon pure chili powder

      8 oz. bitter chocolate, chopped

      2 egg yolks

      2 ²/₃ cups milk

      2 tablespoons butter

      2 teaspoons vanilla

      In a heavy saucepan, whisk together sugar, cornstarch, salt and chili powder. Then add chocolate.

      Whisk egg yolks and milk together and gradually whisk into chocolate mixture. Bring mixture just to a boil over moderate heat, whisking constantly, and boil 1 minute, whisking. Remove pan from heat and whisk in butter and vanilla.

      Divide pudding between 6 ramekins or small custard bowls. Chill and serve.

      “Your desk?” Josie asked, looking around at the other desks. “I didn’t go through your desk.”

      In the back, there was the faint sound of Deputy Pfeiffer clearing his throat.

      Dan strode over to Josie and took the key ring from her hand. “My keys,” he said, in a low, controlled voice, “were in my desk.” He thumped his hand on the desk in front of her. “So I repeat, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

      She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Deputy Pfeiffer—” whom she dearly hoped outranked Dan Duvall “—locked himself in a cell back there and asked me to get his keys for him so he could get out. I’m doing just that.”

      Dan looked incredulous. “Deputy Pfeiffer?”

      She felt her face grow warm, even though she hadn’t done anything wrong. “Yes, Deputy Pfeiffer,” she said, gesturing toward the open doorway in the back. “He locked himself in and asked me to get the keys for him.”

      “Oh, I’ll bet he did,” Dan said, shaking his head. Then he laughed. He actually laughed.

      At her.

      “Just what’s so funny?”

      “Usually, people like you are begging me to lock the troublemakers up, they’re not coming in and springing them.”

      “I’m not springing anyone. I came in here to file a proper report and I found your deputy locked in.”

      A long moment stretched thin in silence while he looked at her in a way that made her skin tingle from head to toe.

      “Honey, I don’t even have a deputy.”

      Horrible realization came over her like a bucket of cold water. “Oh, my God.”

      He shook his head. “Didn’t you think it was a little strange that the deputy was locked up in a cell?”

      “Yes, of course.” It was hard to defend what was, in retrospect, such an idiotic action, but she tried.

      “But so far the police department has been so efficiency-challenged that nothing about it could surprise me.”

      “Well, we keep the criminals locked up here in Beldon. What do they do with them where you come from?”

      She pressed her lips together for a moment. “All right, I get it. Who is he really?”

      Without averting his eyes from hers, he called, “Tell her your real name, Deputy.”

      After a moment, the voice answered, “Henry Lawtell.”

      “What are you in for?”

      “No good reason!”

      Still holding her gaze, Dan said, “Henry’s in jail for the third time this year after drinking a trough of beer and riding his motorcycle into the statue of Alexander Beldon in the town center. Naked.”

      “Oh.”

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