Shadows Reel (Joe Pickett #22)(23)

“First let me get another beer,” April said. “It’s been a long day.”



* * *



—

“Everything’s going fine at the store, but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life,” April said as she resumed her post next to Marybeth at the counter and began mashing hard egg yolks into a bowl. “The work’s okay, but being the manager of employees is no fun. Personnel management is a bitch. We can’t keep people very long. We train them and then they realize they actually have to work, so they start whining. I swear,” she said, “I really can’t stand being around most of the people my age. They’re just pussies.”

“April,” Marybeth cautioned.

“Sorry, but it’s true. They want days off after they’ve worked there for a week. I’m not kidding. And I’m just lucky I don’t have to drug test the associates or we’d have nobody to work.”

“I understand.”

She did. Marybeth headed the hiring committee at the library, and of the seven millennials they’d brought on, only one remained, and he had already exhausted all of his sick leave and vacation time for the year.

“Anyway, it isn’t going to be my career. I’ll do it until I can find something else. Something I can really dig into, you know?”

“Like what?” Marybeth asked.

“Well, you know how I always wanted to punish pukes?”

“You mean criminals?”

“Yeah. But I don’t want to be a cop. Cops give me the creeps.”

“Your dad is law enforcement.”

“Yeah, but he’s different. He’s out there with the deer and elk all day, you know? He’s not busting kids for speeding or possessing weed.”

Marybeth bit her tongue and didn’t argue. It was rare when April was so open with her. She didn’t want to derail the conversation.

April took another long drink and said, “So I was in the process of getting my name changed when this, um, opportunity came up.”

Marybeth froze, her knife blade an inch from another hard-boiled egg.

“What name change?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m getting it changed from April Keeley to April Keeley Pickett. Didn’t I tell you about that?”

“No, somehow you forgot,” Marybeth said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

“Well, I am. I think it’s better, don’t you?”

Marybeth nodded. Her eyes misted suddenly. “Of course I like it. And so will your dad.”

“I’ll try not to get my name in the news and embarrass you,” April said. “Unlike Dad.”

Marybeth started to turn to hug her, when April laughed and stepped away. “Be careful with that knife,” she said. “Don’t gut me, Mom.”



* * *



—

“I was doing the name change paperwork with this lawyer in Bozeman,” April continued, “when she mentioned that her investigator might be looking for some help. I said I was interested. Who doesn’t want to be a PI?”

Me, Marybeth thought but didn’t say. Nobody I know. And hopefully not my daughter.

“Anyway, I did an interview with the PI at her firm and I really liked her. I think she liked me. I mentioned my name change and somehow she’d heard of Dad and that probably helped. So who knows? I may be able to do something with a little excitement in it, you know? More exciting than fitting cowboy boots on tourists, for sure.”

“So you might be working for a firm made up of women?”

“Crazy, huh?”

“When will you know?” Marybeth asked.

“Maybe next week,” April said. “She said she might want to do a second interview. The job would start after the first of the year.”

“Interesting.”

“I’ve been looking at what I would need to do,” April said. “You have to get a PI license from the state, and probably a concealed carry permit. I need to figure all that out. But at first I think I’ll be doing a lot of boring things like answering the phone, filing, that kind of crap. But compared to retail, I think I can gut that out for a while.”



* * *



—

After the deviled eggs were made and covered with plastic and stored in the refrigerator, Marybeth poured herself a second glass of wine. Next on her list was to mix the brine and pour it into a brining bag with the turkey. She’d reserved an entire shelf of the fridge for it.

Despite her initial reaction, she was proud of April. Her most troubled and difficult daughter was turning into her own woman. She wasn’t asking to move back home, and as far as Marybeth knew she hadn’t taken up with another loser like Dallas Cates. April was charting her own path and taking responsibility for her future. No wonder she didn’t like working with people her age who didn’t have the same outlook and determination.

Marybeth’s phone chimed twice and she checked it. There were texts from both Sheridan and Joe. Sheridan said she was on her way there with Liv and Kestrel. Joe asked if there was anything he needed to pick up in town.

Great, Marybeth answered Sheridan.

You might want to get more beer, she texted Joe. And peppermint schnapps for Lola.