Before either had a chance to answer, Amanda Trotfield chose that moment to bolt into the kitchen. Fast on her heels was her husband.
“Enough!” Amanda’s voice was fierce. “I’ve had as much as I’ll stand of you two policemen invading our lives! Get out! If you want to talk to the cook, go to her almighty house, not ours!” She stabbed an auburn-painted fingernail in my direction. Her eyes blazed. “And you. Get those pies and coffees out there, or there will be no check.”
I gestured helplessly in the direction of the pie slices and the coffeepot with its glowing red light. I certainly didn’t appreciate her threatening me in front of these cops.
Hersey looked at Mrs. Trotfield, who was quivering with indignation, then jotted in his notebook. He pressed his lips together. “Okay, Mrs. Schulz, go back to your cooking. We appreciate your taking some time for us.” He nodded at De Groot.
I didn’t see the policemen to the door. Neither, I was sure, did the Trotfields.
9
When Arch and I got home, Tom was sitting in the living room talking to Jake. Actually, he was murmuring to Jake. Cajoling him. The man never gives up. Easily distracted by our arrival, Jake thumped his tail supportively as he drooled long skeins of saliva on our living room rug.
Tom appraised me. “Uh-oh. Looks like she had another unhappy evening. Come on and have something to eat. You probably haven’t had a bite all day.” He gestured to his offerings: English crackers, a cheddar spread veined with port, a soft drink for Arch, and a bottle of dry sherry. “Which is worse, not having jobs, or having bad jobs?”
“Can’t decide.” I dropped onto the couch beside him and spread a hillock of the rich, smooth cheese onto a thick cracker. I bit into it: divine. “Thanks for all this.”
“Yeah, this is great!” Arch exclaimed after swigging the pop. He patted Jake enthusiastically. “What have you guys been up to?” Jake was now a guy, I noted.
Tom’s green eyes shone. “We have a trick to show you. Arch, remember we were talking about a game to resociaIize Jake? So that he could deal with new situations??
Arch nodded vigorously.
Tom said, “Let’s let your mom do this one.” He turned to me. “Here’s what we do. I’ll hide. You say the word f-i-n-d.”
I asked demurely, “Do you have a dog biscuit in your pocket, or will he be glad to see you?”
Arch said, “Mom? What are you talking about?”
Tom’s handsome face remained unperturbed. “Joke, joke, Miss G., go ahead. Before you give him the command, allow me a few minutes.?
He walked out of the room. Jake’s mournful eyes followed him anxiously. I called after Tom: “Two of the morons who work for Shockley came to interrogate me during the dinner. Maybe you could resocialize them next.”
When Tom didn’t answer, I turned to Jake and said dubiously, “Find?”
Jake scrambled off, nose to the carpet. Arch watched him, transfixed. Within fifteen seconds, Tom strolled triumphantly back into the room. Jake pranced and whined alongside. Tom told Jake what a great job he’d done, and the hound enthusiastically climbed Tom’s chest. After the obligatory biscuit-gift, the dog and Arch took off for his room, and Tom sat down next to me.
“Which two morons? Now that Shockley makes the assignments, the morons are everywhere.”
“De Groot and Hersey.”
He groaned and poured himself a glass of sherry. ?The Odd Squad. Shockley’s right-hand goons. Those two guys so completely botched a robbery case of mine that I avoid working with them whenever possible.”
“Yeah, well, I wish I could have avoided them. Oh,” I toasted him and added matter-of-factly, “something else. I saw the general today, and you’ll never guess what the two of us experienced together.”
Tom smiled mischievously. “Don’t tell me. An explosion. Wait, let me guess. C-four, his favorite. It was a very big explosion, and you were safely far away.”
“It might’ve been an explosion some distance away that precipitated a very big landslide, and I was on the edge of it.” I sipped sherry, related the events of the afternoon, and, remembering Bo’s queries, asked if Tom had ever heard of environmental statements being done for a mine.
“You mean the claims?” When I shrugged, he said, “I think those are recorded with the county clerk, as well as down in Denver with some state agency. And I’m pretty sure operating mines have to be inspected periodically for safety. And hey, speaking of safety?” He gave me a searching look. “A landslide? What on earth were you doing?”
“Nothing,” I protested. “Not a thing. It’s not like an avalanche, where you can plan to trigger it. I mean, unless you have the right weather conditions and use an explosive. In this case, all we had was a full moon, and the fact that they were working with explosives in the area,” I added as I reached for another cracker. Tom was right: I was ravenous.
He shook his head. “I swear, Goldy, you get into more trouble in a day than I do in a year.”
“I don’t go looking for trouble,” I protested, mouth full.
“Oh, please. You know how many crooks have said that to me?”
“Thanks loads.” I wagged a finger at him. “I’m going to find out what’s going on with this financial firm. Prospect’s chief investment officer dies in Idaho Springs, one of the partners disappears, my friend’s money gets stolen.” I paused to lick creamy cheese from my fingers, then continued with my litany: “A problem with assay reports. Idiot cops hovering to insult and intimidate people.”
Tom’s look was somber. “It’s a missing persons case, Miss G. That’s it. It’s not even a needle in a haystack. It’s a caraway seed.”
I scooted over on the couch and gave him an affectionate squeeze. I do love a man who makes culinary metaphors.
The next morning, Friday, the phone rang early. Marla.
“Okay, listen,” she began without preamble, “I’m sorry to be calling you so early, or so late as it turns out, but Tony thought that I ordered the food for this weekend, and of course I thought that he had, and we need nonperishables, if you can imagine. So I was thinking ? “
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you have the wrong number. And why didn’t you warn me about those idiot cops?”
“I tried.” She groaned. “Awful, aren’t they? They offended the Hardcastles by implying they were nitwits for investing in an abandoned mine. And listen to this. First thing that happened at the Trotfields’ place? You’ll never guess. As soon as the two cops came into the house, De Groot sneezed on the Motherwell. But listen, I do need to talk to you about the food for our fishing trip ? “
“I thought you and Tony weren’t getting along.”
“We’re not, but it’s temporary. And contrary to the prevailing opinion in Colorado, I don’t think schlepping into the cold, wet mountains is going to transform us into a healed couple. But Tony’s desperate to get away for a couple of days, and he’s told everybody he’s going, so if he comes back without any fish, he’ll lose face.”
We said in unison, “Machismo.”
“But,” I protested, “aren’t you leaving soon? As in this afternoon? I may be able to cook fast, but I’m not superhuman ? “
“Oh Goldy, please don’t say no, you have such a knack with food, and Tony really is a wreck ? “
I sighed. “Hold on.” I tied a robe around my waist and scanned the bedroom. Tom was not under the covers. Oh, yes. I’d sleepily registered his predawn departure. What was it he’d said? Something about female soccer players getting into a brawl at an indoor game last night. Apparently the referee failed to whistle penalties for lots of rough play, and the game ended in a free-for-all. The cops arrested one of the goalkeepers, and Tom’s presence was needed this morning to deal with the mess. One thing I’d learned in the last year: Policemen work a lot harder than doctors. And at odder hours. I stared at the clock: seven-thirty. I had to get cracking on my weekly muffins- and-coffee cake assignment for the Bank of Aspen Meadow. But guilt cut between these considerations. Marla had given me so many business referrals that I felt duty-bound to squeeze her in. And of course, she was my best
