“Jacob?” Phil turns to me. “If you are leaving again, Sheriff, you need to run that past me.”
“Never did before. Not starting now.” Dalton opens the door and motions for Storm to follow.
“You didn’t with my predecessors, an oversight I am attempting to rectify—”
The door closes behind Dalton and Storm. When Phil reaches for it, I deftly slide in the way.
“It is urgent,” I say. “He’s distracted by that, not ignoring you.”
And certainly not telling you to back the hell up because if you think he’s ever going to ask permission to leave town, you have a very overinflated opinion of your position here.
“I merely wish he would inform me—”
“That’s what I’m doing. Which I should have done last night. If you would just say ‘I’m staying with Isabel,’ then I could call on you at her place without risking the wrath of the woman who fills my tequila order. I’m very fond of my monthly bottle, and I don’t dare cross the dragon who provides it. Now tell me your emergency first and—”
The door bangs open with enough force to make us both jump. In walks a woman in her late thirties, average—even pleasant—looking. It’d taken me about an hour in Rockton to discover that “pleasant” isn’t a word anyone should ever apply to Jen.
“You two having a little celebration on my account?” she says as she stalks over. “Don’t mind if I join, then. Since I’m the cause of the festivities.”
“What are we celebrating?” I ask.
“My departure from Rockton.”
I frown. “You still have another month, don’t you?”
“This is fun for you, isn’t it, Detective?” She stops close enough for me to smell coffee on her breath. “Any more jabs you want to take? Or do you need me to turn around so you can stab me properly?”
I turn to Phil. “I’m guessing this is related to your urgent situation.”
He glances over at Jen.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, pretty boy,” she
says. “I don’t bite. Though, considering who you’re banging, I get the feeling you like that. I might be a little young for you, though. You like them old enough to play momma and give you a spanking.”
To his credit, Phil only meets Jen’s gaze with a level stare, and after a moment, she shifts in discomfort.
“You’re the one who’s embarrassed to be banging her,” Jen mutters.
“Or perhaps I am aware of the dynamic it suggests, given our respective positions in town.”
“Her being the local whoremistress, you mean.”
That level stare again, and under the weight of it, Jen mutters and glances away. Yes, Isabel runs the brothel, and for all my initial issues with that, I have come to agree with her “my body, my choice” stance and she has been completely receptive to all of my suggestions for negotiating this difficult ground.
The brothel is also the reason Jen despises Isabel. Not because she has a moral objection to it, but because she’s freelanced in that area herself, which is strictly against town policy. We keep the sex trade tightly regulated for the women’s safety; Jen sees it as an unfair monopoly.
“Yes, this is what I wanted to speak to you about,” Phil says. “Jennifer requested an extension. It was rejected. To the surprise of everyone, I’m certain, but mostly you, Casey, who has had to deal with her extensive criminal activity and complete inability to cohabit with other residents, particularly those in authority.”
“Fuck you, pretty boy.”
“I rest my case.”
“I’m part of the goddamn militia,” Jen says. “Sherlock here hasn’t pinned a crime on me in almost a year … because I haven’t committed any. Even those so-called crimes were bullshit. I got hungry and grabbed some extra food. I got cold and grabbed some extra wood. Which I paid back.”
“Only after you were caught,” I say.
“I was framed.”