Wickedly Dangerous (Baba Yaga, #1)(34)
Belinda gave the older woman a shaky smile in return. “I’m doing okay, Lucy. Just a cup of coffee for me, okay? I’m not too hungry.”
Lucy scowled. “You’re on your lunch break, ain’t ya? Then you’re havin’ lunch. I’ll bring ya some of the chicken soup we got on special; nothin’ goes down easier than chicken soup. It’ll cure just about anything that ails ya.” She snorted a laugh. “Of course, whatever it don’t cure, Miz Yager here will, ain’t that right?” She patted Baba on the shoulder too, and walked jauntily off in the direction of the kitchen.
Baba blinked. “People around here certainly are friendly,” she said, not sure if that was a good thing or not. Friendly usually made her twitch. This town must be getting under her skin.
“Well, I think word’s getting around about all the good you’re doing with your herbal remedies,” Belinda said, toying with the little gold stud in one ear. Baba noticed that her nails were chewed down to the quick.
“Huh,” Baba said. “It’s a good cover story, and I like working with the plants. Earth is my primary element, I guess you could say. Still, it’s not a big deal; I like healing people.”
“Just not talking to them, right?” Belinda said with a tiny smile. “I appreciate you meeting me here. I can tell you’re not much of a ‘let’s have lunch’ kind of woman.”
Baba snorted. “Not hardly.” She looked around the room. “But I like this place. And the coffee is damned good. Besides, you asked nicely.” She just wished she had more than empty reassurances to give the poor woman. “And maybe now we can discuss that second impossible task.”
She smothered a chuckle at the look of alarm that spread over Belinda’s face.
“Um, okay,” Belinda said, swallowing hard. “What is it?”
Baba gave her a serious look, then gestured at the covered cases that lined the counter. “Help me figure out which kind of pie to get. I’m completely torn between the strawberry rhubarb and the mixed berry with the crumble topping.”
Belinda’s startled laughter was reward enough for coming. Damn—this place really was getting to her.
*
THE MAYOR’S OFFICE was designed to be imposing. It was situated in one of the oldest buildings in town, a certified historical monument to a more prosperous time, when the railroad still ran and Dunville was a hub of commerce and travel. Outside, the marble steps and ornate columns gave way to massive carved wood doors that opened on to a spacious lobby with high, painted tin ceilings. Unlike the sheriff’s department, this building was kept in perfect condition, the white walls shining and the oak trim oiled until it gleamed.
The mayor’s office was off a side corridor so the hustle and bustle of the mundane business transacted in the county clerk’s office up front wouldn’t impinge upon the more weighty matters of running the town. The current mayor was more competent than some Liam had worked with in his years with the sheriff’s department, although he tended to waffle on issues rather than risk offending one of his more influential supporters. What he lacked in spine he made up for in charm, so he’d recently been elected to a second term.
The mayor’s secretary seemed to have stepped away from her desk in the small outer chamber, so Liam knocked on the door to the inner room. A deep voice said, “Come in,” so he did, and was dismayed but not completely surprised to see Clive Matthews standing next to the taller, slimmer form of the town’s mayor. Due to the small size of the town and the surrounding area, the sheriff’s department had been acting as law enforcement for both since budget cuts had done away with the town police chief’s job. Liam reported directly to the mayor, but the country board was technically still in charge of the hiring and firing for the position. He had a feeling Matthews wasn’t there to give him a raise.
“Mr. Mayor, you wanted to see me?” Liam nodded at the board president politely, but focused his attention on the man who had called him.
To his credit, Harvey Anderson didn’t look any happier than Liam felt. He glanced sideways out of the corner of his eyes, clearly hoping the other man would do the talking. When Matthews just crossed his arms over his chest and stood there looking stern and disappointed, Anderson gave a sigh and said, “Liam, we all know you’ve had a tough couple of years, but the board—” Matthews cleared his throat meaningfully. “That is, we all have some serious concerns about how you are doing your job.”
Matthews’s musky cologne wafted across the space between them, making Liam’s breath catch and stutter. The man must bathe in the stuff, he thought, his mind caught by an inconsequential butterfly fluttering of ideas, so it wouldn’t focus on the words coming out of the mayor’s mouth. The air conditioning in here is a lot quieter than ours down at the station. That must be nice.
“I’m doing my best, Harvey,” Liam said in a carefully measured tone, trying not to let his anger percolate to the surface. He was so damned tired of Clive Matthews yanking his chain. “My men are working around the clock, trying to find out who is behind these disappearances. There just aren’t any clues.”
“Or maybe there are, and you’re just not finding them,” Matthews put in sourly. “We’re in the midst of a major crime wave, with children involved, and you’ve accomplished nothing. It can’t go on.”