Close To Danger (Westen #4)(23)
Suddenly weary, she drifted asleep, her last thought was whether she’d remember this night tomorrow.
*
“You’re open late, tonight, Lorna,” Deputy Sheriff Jason Clarke said as he slipped onto a counter stool at the Peaches ’N Cream Café, just after midnight.
Pulling off his gloves, he laid them on the counter beside him, placed his cell phone on top of them where he could see it, and opened his heavy coat. Not warm enough to take it off just yet. As the youngest deputy in the department, he’d pulled night duty for the month. Starting his third week, he was glad the café was still open tonight. A hot meal would be way better than the peanut butter and jelly he’d packed this evening.
“Figured we’d best keep a pot of coffee on and some soup on the stove in case any of the usual truckers make it to town. So far, only Jack and Clarence made it in,” she said, nodding to the two truckers who were working on their soup in a corner booth. She flipped up a coffee mug in front of him and filled it with hot coffee. “I’ve got some blankets and pillows in the office for them. Can’t have you finding them frozen to death in their truck cabs tonight.”
He grinned at her. “I surely appreciate that.” As he took a drink of the coffee, he looked around the café. “I thought your new waitress—Hannah, wasn’t it?—was working the closing shifts this month. That’s what Glenna told me the other day.”
“Girl called in sick yesterday and I haven’t heard from her tonight. Although it’s just as well. I’d have sent her on home before the weather hit, anyways. I’ve only got room for Rachel to sleep in my office. And Pete has the upstairs apartment now.”
She gave him a pat on the shoulder as she passed with a pot of coffee in the direction of the truckers.
Movement from the kitchen caught his eye. Pete, the main cook for the café, walked his way. The man usually had on one of the café’s signature tee shirts with an apron over top and his long, thin grey hair pulled back in a red, white and blue bandana. Today he also had a heavy cardigan on.
“Evening, Pete.”
“Evening, Deputy. Gotcha something to warm you up.” He placed a piping hot bowl of beef vegetable soup and a plate of fresh cornbread muffins in front of him.
“Smells great, Pete.” Jason’s stomach picked that moment to growl in appreciation of the aroma coming from the food. Shrugging out of his uniform coat, he laid it on the stool beside him. He slipped his spoon in the edge, scooped up broth and meat, blowing on it before eating it. “Damn, Pete, that’s good. This sure beats the sack lunch I have back over at the Sheriff’s office.”
“Well, my mama always said, when the weather gets bad, make soup,” Pete said with a grin, then moseyed back into the kitchen.
Jason buttered the muffins and ate his meal as he considered what he knew about Pete. The story was that Pete wandered into the Peaches ’N Cream about fourteen years ago, not long after Lorna’s husband had died. Lorna needed help in the kitchen since her daughter Rachel was only a toddler at the time. Pete picked up a knife, started cutting vegetables for a stew and never left.
The man was old enough to have served in Vietnam, according to Jason’s boss, Sheriff Gage Justice. Gage’s father, the former sheriff, had dug into Pete’s military history, but kept the file closed, once he’d determined that the cook only wanted a simple life of working and living in the small town. Gage joked that his dad made the decision once he’d had a helping of his biscuits and sausage gravy one morning.
“You certainly did that plate justice,” Lorna said, stepping back behind the counter once more and refilling his mug. “You planning on dessert? All I have is chocolate cake.”
He glanced at his phone. No calls. No texts. “Might as well. I’ve already made the rounds of the shops on Main Street. Doubt anyone wants to loot anyone on a night as bad as this.”
Lorna took a slice of cake from the glass enclosed desert counter and set it in front of him. “Did you happen to stop by the Baptist Church and see if old Earl was inside for the night? I sent a message with Wes this morning for him to talk to Pastor Miller about helping out for the winter. Sent a coat with him, too.”
“Sure did,” Jason said, scooping up a forkful of rich chocolate decadence. “Pastor was packing Earl into his van and taking him home for the night. Told him he wanted extra help around the house with the storm, what with Ms. Suzie expecting their first baby and all.”
Lorna snorted and shook her head. “Whatever could that old coot do to help with a pregnant woman?”
Jason drank some coffee to wash the cake down before answering. “I got the impression the pastor wanted Earl at the house and not at the church in case the power went out there. I don’t think he wanted to come back tomorrow and find him frozen to death in the church. Helping at his place was an excuse to take him home.”
“That would be Zebadiah Miller for you.” Lorna paused a moment. “Although, I’ll bet Suzy called and suggested the whole plan. That woman would take in a stray mountain lion if she thought it needed tending to.”
Headlights flashed in the window. Everyone turned to see a county road construction truck with a snowplow attached, parking in the lot.
“That’ll be André Danner,” Jason said, returning his attention to the chocolate cake. “He stopped by the sheriff’s office as the snow got heavier and said he’d do a few passes on the main streets as well as the highway before it got too bad outside.”