“I was sneaking a bottle of the wild-harvested black cumin in there,” he said sheepishly. “As a gift. Something to remember me by when you went back to Houston.”
The gesture squeezed my heart. “Stop being endearing,” I warned. “Because I find it incredibly sexy, and we’re not doing that right now. Instead, I’m going to tell you more about my day job. Construction. It’s going to bore you to tears, and you’re going to get more sleep before it’s time to go to the lodge for breakfast.”
“I would never fall asleep listening to you talk about your life,” Truman said hotly.
He was snoring within three minutes.
After waking up again and stopping by the Chop Shop to pick up my bike so I wouldn’t be hassled anymore for using Mikey and Tiller’s SUV, Truman and I made our way up to Rockley Lodge for Mikey’s breakfast.
Mikey outdid himself and was clearly thrilled to be cooking for a crowd again. He’d invited the same group of business owners as before, even though Julian wasn’t able to come to town to meet with everyone for a few more days. The kitchen was full of Aster Vallians all talking at once, regardless, and the topic of conversation moved from Truman’s poor stomach to the evil hush money conspiracy in town.
At one point the doorbell rang, and Tiller came into the kitchen leading Deputy Stone into the mix. Everyone immediately shut up as if we’d been holding a secret meeting of felonious coconspirators. Someone’s final snapped words of “the sheriff’s corrupt pension scheme” echoed around the room as everyone’s words ground to a halt.
“Morning, everyone,” he said with a slight nod. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I only stopped by to have a quick word with Mr. Sweet.”
At the confirmation there was no general round-up of criminals imminent, the townies went back to their chatter while Truman stood and welcomed the deputy.
“We can sit in the sunroom. Is it okay if Sam comes with us?” he asked, gesturing to me. “He’s my… boyfriend.” As soon as the word was out of his mouth, he shot a nervous glance at me as if waiting for me to correct him in front of everyone. I noticed a little squeal of excitement coming from the general direction of where Mikey stood at the kitchen island.
“Sam Rigby, nice to meet you,” I said instead, holding out a hand to shake.
Stone shook my hand. “Declan Stone. And that’s fine.”
Tiller handed the deputy a mug of coffee and thrust a plate of pastries at him as well. “No breakfast, no entry. Sorry, but those are Mikey’s rules. Apparently.”
The deputy’s stern face finally softened into a smile. “I’m certainly not going to turn down something that smells this good. Thank you.”
After we got settled in the sunroom around a wooden pedestal table most likely meant for card games or puzzles, the deputy explained the surprising reason for his visit.
“I got a message from the fire investigators first thing this morning and stopped by the hospital before the shift change to reinterview the witnesses.”
I glanced at Mikey. I hadn’t known he’d reached out to the fire investigator already about the cigar break. Could we trust a Rockley County deputy to run down the discrepancy?
“And you were right,” Stone continued. “Most of the Stanner men took a long cigar break in the parking lot sometime between eleven and midnight. Any of them could have made it to your shop and back during that time. I’m sorry, Truman.”
He seemed sincere. A crease of concern appeared between his brows as he took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Can you tell me more about what I heard back there in the kitchen? About a pension scheme?”
Truman glanced at me as if looking for a sign of whether or not he should trust the deputy. I wasn’t sure one way or the other, but I did know that at some point, it would cease to matter. And it would be better to know which side of good and evil this deputy was on.
I nodded slightly, and Truman went on to explain to Deputy Stone what had been going on with the sheriff’s department, vandalism, and the demand for contributions to this sketchy program.
As he spoke, Deputy Stone’s professionally bland expression showed signs of cracking. I could tell he was both horrified and somewhat unsurprised. He finally leaned toward Truman with a heartfelt promise.
“I will get to the bottom of this. Regardless of whether or not there is such a fund and the collection of monies for it is legitimate, no resident should feel unsafe around their own local law enforcement professionals.” He looked uncomfortable with the position we’d just put him in.
“Are you sure you’re the right person to handle this?” I challenged.
He let out a combination of a laugh and sigh. “I don’t have a choice. But considering I left my previous position after blowing the whistle on a bribery scheme involving some of our officers, it looks like I’ve found a new calling.”