“But people are dying,” said Phyllis. “I think of that poor girl, drowning like that because of drugs. I can’t get her out of my mind.”
“This isn’t acceptable,” said Ted. “If the police aren’t going to do anything, I think we have to. The dealing is bad, but the police cover-up is worse.”
“I agree,” said Lucy. “We can investigate this ourselves. We don’t have to break my promise to the chief about keeping what he said off the record, I saw the dealer myself. We can follow up on our own.”
“The chief’s not going to be happy, and he’s got a lot of relatives in town jobs. You’ll never get a word out of any Kirwans in the future,” warned Phyllis.
Lucy knew Phyllis was right. Dot Kirwan, the matriarch of the clan, worked as a cashier at the IGA, where she picked up a lot of newsworthy information that she passed along. Her numerous offspring, children and even grandchildren, had jobs in the police and fire department, the highway department, and the schools. Lucy would hate to lose Dot as a source, and more important, as a friend.
Ted, however, had no such reservations. “We’ll do an investigative report,” he said, warming to the idea. “We’ll stake out the parking lot, take photos, figure out who this guy is.”
“And what if we see the police observing him and doing nothing?” asked Lucy.
“We report it,” declared Ted with enthusiasm. “That’s what we do. We tell the truth, the whole truth, and this will be a big, breakthrough story. It will not only show that opioid addiction is a problem that crosses ethnic and class lines, that it touches all of us, but it will also show that the police, the people we expect to fight the war on drugs, are AWOL.”
“So tomorrow . . .” began Lucy.
“We stake out Blueberry Pond,” said Ted. “Bright and early.” He paused, thinking. “Better dress warm.”
CHAPTER 7
That afternoon, when Lucy returned home, she was surprised to see a snazzy Corvette parked in her usual spot. The only person she knew who had such a car was Matt Rodriguez and when she went into the house she found him in the kitchen with Zoe. The two were shoulder to shoulder, rolling out donut dough on the counter. Libby the dog was sitting on her haunches beside Zoe, watching every move in case a scrap of dough fell her way.
“Hi, Mom,” Zoe sang out by way of greeting. Her face was flushed and Lucy didn’t think the fryer had heated up the kitchen all that much. Zoe had an adorable smear of flour on her nose. “You know Matt, don’t you? He’s helping me make these apple cider donuts for the Harvest Festival.”
“Hi, Matt,” said Lucy with a smile as she plunked her bag on the bench by the door and hung her jacket on one of the hooks. “Thanks for helping Zoe.”
“It’s a pleasure,” he said with a broad smile that revealed very white teeth and two deep dimples, one in each cheek.
He was remarkably good-looking, thought Lucy, seeing him up close. He had longish black hair and arched eyebrows over dark brown eyes, a hawkish nose, and wide mouth. Even his ears were small and nicely shaped. He was wearing designer jeans, fashionable ankle boots, and a tight cashmere sweater that showed off his toned muscles—not the baggy jeans and flannel shirts most young men in Tinker’s Cove wore.
“I have to compliment you on your kitchen,” he said, looking very serious. “It’s functional, but also attractive and honest. It’s a room with what my father calls duende. The closest English word is soul.”
Lucy didn’t quite know how to respond. In her mind, the kitchen was a mishmash of things picked up at yard sales. With its battered cabinets and golden oak table that gathered all sorts of clutter, it looked nothing like the sleek designer kitchens she saw in the magazines. The compliment made her wonder about this guy who she suspected was more interested in Zoe than in Lucy’s decorating.
“Matt’s a trained chef, Mom,” said Zoe, who knew very well that her mother would want an explanation for Matt’s presence in the house, which was a clear violation of the family rule against entertaining young men when no parents were home unless they’d been introduced and gotten the parental seal of approval. “We got talking when I interviewed for a job at Cali Kitchen and when I told him I had to make these donuts, he offered to help. He’s already taught me so much about pastry. There’s a lot more to it than I thought.”
Lucy had reached for the jar of dog biscuits, a move that didn’t escape Libby’s notice, prompting her to abandon Zoe and transfer her attention to Lucy. Lucy raised a finger in the “sit” signal and Libby promptly obeyed, earning a biscuit, which she promptly took to the dog bed in the corner and chomped down.
“Zoe is going to be a great addition at the restaurant . . . if we ever get it opened,” he said. “She’s not only beautiful but she’s definitely got a flair for cooking. She really ought to consider culinary school.”
Lucy didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “She’s already attending Winchester College,” she snapped, “and she hopes to go on to veterinary school.”
He turned to Zoe with an expression of surprise. “You didn’t tell me that! That’s great! I love animals. I had the best dog when I was growing up. A beagle named Bismarck. He went everywhere with me.” He paused. “I missed him more than I missed my folks when I went to college.”
“Was that culinary school?” asked Lucy, wondering how old Matt was.
“No. I went to Pomona for a year and flunked out,” he answered, turning around and leaning his back casually against the counter. “My dad wasn’t
