A High-End Finish(49)

I sighed. “You should call me Shannon, Chief.”

“I’ll do that,” he said cheerfully. “Take care, Shannon.”

“Thanks, Chief. You do the same.” When he hung up, I stared at my phone for a minute or two, trying to decide if I were still dreaming or not.

? ? ?

Miracle of miracles. When I got home from the auto shop, Wendell Jarvick’s car was gone. I gleefully pulled my truck into the driveway, being careful to leave absolutely no room behind me for another car to park. Wendell would just have to leave his hotshot luxury car out on the street. Bummer for him.

Jane had generously offered to cook dinner for me, but I begged off, knowing I wouldn’t be good company. I just wanted to order a pizza and watch TV in my pajamas.

Since I had to get up early the next morning, I had a few pieces of pizza, most of a small salad, and one measly glass of wine. Soon after that, I turned off the television and crawled upstairs to bed. I doubted the police would find anything incriminating in my garage tomorrow, but I was thrilled that they were at least willing to look. And maybe I was being overly optimistic to think it meant I was no longer a suspect, but I had to believe it was a step in the right direction. And I was pretty sure I had Mac Sullivan to thank for that.

? ? ?

The doorbell rang at eight o’clock sharp the next morning, just as I knew it would. I set down my coffee cup and moved as quickly as I could to open the door. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Chief Jensen said, glancing around. “This is quite a house.”

“Thank you.”

He was smiling, which did wonders for his looks. His blue eyes were streaked with shards of soft gray, and the rays of morning sun had turned the tips of his dark blond hair to gold. Tiny laugh lines gave him more allure than any man deserved and he carried an aura of power that his relaxed smile couldn’t disguise.

What had happened to the dour, suspicious police chief I’d just started getting used to? Never mind. I liked this one better. I just hoped he would stick around.

Robbie came scurrying down the hall to sniff around the newcomer.

“Who’s this?” Chief Jensen asked.

“That’s Rob Roy, but we call him Robbie. He’s very friendly.”

“And good-looking, too,” he said, squatting down to ruffle Robbie’s scruffy white coat and play for a minute. That, naturally, caused me to like him even more than I did a minute ago.

“Do you and your officers want some coffee?” I asked.

“That would be great. Thanks.” He stood and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “They’ve already started working on the surface areas around the garage door.”

I glanced past him, down the driveway. “I’d better unlock the door so they can get inside.”

“That would help. Thanks.”

I grabbed the key and my down vest and followed the porch around to the backyard. Here there were only three steps to descend as opposed to the ten steps out front. I took them carefully, still feeling tender from my short flight off the bike the other day.

“Maybe you can show us where you keep your bicycle.”

“Sure.”

He started to introduce me to the officers, but I stopped him. “That’s okay, Chief. I’ve known these two for years.”

“That’s right,” Mindy said, grinning as she snapped on a pair of thin rubber gloves. “Jeb went to high school with Shannon and I was two years behind them. And Jeb’s brother, Todd, works on Shannon’s crew.”

Jeb chuckled. “Gotta love a small town.”

“I do,” Chief Jensen said, surprising me again. Maybe there was hope for the chief yet.

“How are you, Shannon?” Mindy asked.

“Pretty good.” It wasn’t true, of course, but I wasn’t about to go down the list of my aches and pains and worries. “How have you been?”

“Can’t complain,” Mindy said.

Jeb snickered. “Right, ’cuz nobody listens.”

Mindy smiled. “Isn’t that the truth?” She flicked what looked like a very small duster over the surface of the windowsill next to the garage door. Black dust particles remained in her wake. She studied the surface, pulled out a clear piece of tape and applied it to a section of the sill. Then she pulled the tape up. “Got some clean prints here.”

“They’re probably mine,” I muttered.

Chief Jensen turned to me. “Are your fingerprints on file somewhere?”

“They should be. I’m bonded and licensed by the state.”

He nodded. “Good.”

They continued to work while I showed Chief Jensen where I always parked my bike. “I’m not sure if you’ll find anything, Chief, but I appreciate you taking the time to look.”

“Mac made a good case for looking,” he said. “And maybe you should call me Eric.”

That came out of left field and I was certain that my confusion showed. Suffice to say I was really getting to like this new improved police chief. “Really?”

He chuckled. “I’d say we started off on the wrong foot.”

“It probably didn’t help that my wrong foot tripped over a dead body.” Did I say that out loud?

“Yeah, there’s that.” His expression was serious, although there was a hint of humor in his eyes.