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ELEVEN

“You’re going where?” Sheriff Tony Gray is sitting behind his brand-new desk, a gift from the same billionaire that bought our entire department new police vehicles, including my Explorer. The Sheriff is wearing a starched and pressed khaki uniform, and that tells me his wife laid his clothes out today. He’s far past retirement age and twenty pounds overweight, as opposed to the thirty extra pounds he’d carried around four months ago. His wife, Ellen, put him on a forced diet and since she’s the force, it’s working. He’d met Ellen at the hospital several years ago after he had a heart attack and wrecked his truck. Ellen nursed him back to health and he has been fighting a losing battle of the bulge since. He has to control his sugar and grease addiction to keep healthy. It’s a Herculean task.

To help Ellen out I’ve brought him two large cinnamon rolls from Moe’s and an extra strong black coffee. The way to a man’s heart is through diabetes and caffeine. I should be ashamed but I’m not. At least I didn’t bring a bag of bacon cheeseburgers.

He greedily accepts my offering, and I steel myself for a battle. Ronnie lets me do the talking. I brought the rolls so I’m the one he owes.

“Sheriff, about this thing with the councilman…”

He’s already shaking his head. “Forget about it,” he says through a giant mouthful of cinnamon roll.

I sit back in my chair, surprised. That was easy. “Oh?”

He finished chewing and swallows. “I decided you were right. I’ve convinced him to hire a private investigator and not get our department mixed up in it.”

I exchange a glance with Ronnie, who looks relieved. I had warned her I would have to get out of this before we made our request.

“Now,” the Sheriff says, holding up what’s left of the cinnamon roll. “I assume you want something from me.”

That kind of perspicacity is why they pay him the big bucks. Or at least, bigger bucks than I get.

“We need to go to Whatcom County. We might be gone a couple of days.”

“Am I allowed to ask why?”

No. “Yes. Ronnie’s family has asked for our help with something personal.” I know he won’t ask. He knows more about me than almost anyone and he’s never asked questions. He doesn’t pry.

He thinks it over for a moment, then shrugs. “You both have vacation time coming, so I don’t see why not. Can you give me an idea when you’ll be back?”

I look at Ronnie and she doesn’t have any idea, but to be safe I say, “A week or less.” Maybe more.

“There’s not much going on here, other than Councilman Johns’s wandering wife, which we’ve already agreed is out of our purview. Do either of you have anything needing reassigned?”

We both shake our heads. Nothing much has happened lately outside of a couple of burglaries where only liquor was stolen and some teenagers going for a series of joyrides. Both stopped when the teens wrapped a stolen car around a telephone pole. Coincidence? I think not.

“Okay then. Approved but I might have to call one or both of you back.”

“Understood,” I say.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Ronnie adds.

He stares at the second cinnamon roll and a look of guilty indecision comes over his face.

I say, “I can take it with us if you want to—” I don’t get to finish before he snatches up the roll.

“Evidence,” he says. “I’ll keep custody.”

We anticipated getting permission from Tony and both of us packed a small bag. Ronnie said we would be put up at the Marsh house. If it gets awkward, I’m going to a motel and she’s on her own.