Keeping the Peace (7 page)

“Peter,” John said sharply, “you watch your voice. Maybe you didn’t hear me. We’ve got a problem here. You’ve got to help out at home. We’ll be there as soon as possible. And you just try to think about somebody other than yourself, okay? Peter? Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, I’m listening. I still think they were stupid.”

“You and I are going to have a long talk when I get home unless you have an attitude adjustment in about two seconds.”

“Okay, okay,” the boy said, acquiescing. “When are you coming home?”

“As soon as Mia gets her X-rays read,” John answered with a sigh. “I’ll see you then.”

He clicked off the phone and looked at Melanie. “What’s wrong with that kid?”

“I don’t know. He’s going through a stage.”

“I’m inclined to think your mother’s right. You spoiled him.”

“He’s your kid, too.”

“Let’s just hope he snaps out of it soon.” John leaned his head back in the chair and closed his eyes.

It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon by the time Mia was discharged. Her shoulder showed no break. The doctor examined her carefully again and determined that her neck and shoulder probably snapped to the side upon impact and she would suffer some pain for a time. He put her arm in a sling with directions to wear it and the collar for at least a week. He wrote her a prescription for Vicodin for the pain.

“Vicodin?” The teenager scrunched her nose at the doctor. “I won’t be able to maneuver the halls at school if I take that stuff. I’ll just take the pain, thank you.”

“She’s pretty serious,” Melanie explained. “She doesn’t like medicine.”

“Well,” said the doctor, “take Tylenol, then, if you’re bothered, but take the prescription in case you need it. You don’t have to fill it, but it’s best to keep ahead of the pain.”

Melanie bundled Mia’s coat around her the best she could as John pulled out his keys. Debbie and Emmie fussed around until Melanie said, “Debbie, why don’t you run along? It was really sweet of you to come and check on us. I really appreciate it. Let Emmie come with us. It’ll help keep Mia down and quiet if they can be together. I promise I won’t run into anything on the way home!”

“Yeah, Dad’s driving,” Mia said.

Debbie whooped with happiness. “As long as you guys are fine, I’ll go home, but remember, I’m there if you need me for anything. Anything.” She kissed her daughter and hurried down the hall.

John winked at Melanie. “I’ll go get the Suburban and meet you at the emergency room door.”

He drove his family home through the continuing blizzard. Even though the plow had gone up through that morning, there was almost as much snow down again as when he’d come in to the station. He pulled into the driveway, and the girls got out of the car.

“Bye, Daddy,” shouted Mia. “See you tonight.”

He waved and watched them push their way through the unshoveled walkway into the house. Apparently, Peter hadn’t gotten to it yet. Melanie, still inside the car, turned toward him.

“This is a pickle,” she said. “I have no car now. Can you call me before you leave to come home in case I need something for supper? I think we should fill this prescription, too. I have a feeling Mia’s going to be pretty sore in the morning.”

“Just let me pick up something. I’ll make dinner tonight. Are you feeling all right?”

“Yes, why?” she asked.

“Well, it’s been a long day. I was worried you might be hurt and not even know it. That happens sometimes.”

“The doctor checked me out. I was feeling a bit shaky there for a while, but I think I was just worried about Mia.”

“I’ll just pick up some groceries and the prescription. You take care of Mia. Make that lazy son of ours shovel some snow. It’ll change his perspective on things, at least temporarily.”

Melanie smiled, leaned over the console, and kissed him. “I’m going to fill some buckets and kettles with water and fill up the animal troughs. I bet the power goes out, especially when the wind starts blowing tonight.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Be careful today. I’ll see you when you get home.”

She jumped out of the Suburban, and he watched her until she was safely inside. Then he started back down the hill.

She had kissed him in the same familiar way, her lips soft and warm and just a little bit parted. Why did he feel so insecure all of sudden?

Chapter Six

“H
EY
, C
HIEF
,” B
ECKY
S
AID
sympathetically as he walked in the door.

He gave her one of his wry smiles, walking around her to his office in the back.

“No breaks, slight whiplash, she’ll be a little sore. Melanie’s fine,” he said. He poured himself a cup of the coffee that had been brewed early that morning. It was syrupy thick, so he dumped in the last of the half-and-half and up-ended the sugar bowl into it. It tasted like melted coffee ice cream. He stood in the doorway of his office, leaning on the door jamb.

“Give me an update,” he said.

“Steve Bruno’s gone home.” Becky swiveled in her chair to face him. “He was exhausted. He finished the report from Melanie’s accident and then left.” Giamo nodded, and she continued, “Cully’s up at the inn. There was some trouble with some overzealous fans or paparazzi with this Ragged Rainbow group. I guess everyone had heard about the accident. Everybody’s got a scanner these days. Anyway, there were about six or seven of them waiting in the lobby for Mr. Gabriel Strand. Bill Noyes got nervous and told them all to book rooms or buy dinner or leave, then he called Cully.”

“Nervous is Noyes’s middle name,” John said with a snort. “Cully still up there?”

“Yes. Frankly, I think he’s enjoying himself. He’s as much a fan as all those girls.”

“Well, he’s only twenty-one. He’s a kid himself.” John shook his head. “And Jason?”

“Jason got called by the state police dispatcher. There was an accident down on the exit ramp, and the officer down there needed backup. Larry Sample’s going nuts. He had to call the guys in from White River to help out.”

John swallowed the last of the tepid coffee as anger stirred in him. “I hate to have one of my guys on an accident on the ramp. That’s really dangerous. Why don’t people just stay home? The state’s gotta learn to take care of itself!”

Becky brought his tirade up short. “Easy, John,” she said, speaking softly. “You’re still upset about Mia.”

The chief gave one of his sharp sighs. “Well, I never heard of this guy Gabriel Strand. Have you? What do you know about him?”

“Not much, I guess. I’ve seen him on videos and TV. My kids like the group. Strand is pretty cute. He’s the hottest heartthrob around right now.”

“Is he married?”

“I don’t think so. He’s pretty young.”

“How old is he?”

Before she could answer, they heard stamping in the outer hallway and Cully came through the door.

“Jeez, it’s still snowing just as hard as it was this morning!” he exclaimed.

John asked, “Any power outages yet?”

“Naw, I don’t think so, but it’s hard to believe. I bet we get ’em tonight.”

“What’s happening with that rock group?”

Cully instantly assumed an air of importance. “I had a long talk with Gabriel Strand and the group’s promoter—I forget his name. They’re the only ones here. The rest of the group’s coming in for the weekend concert. In the first place, no one was supposed to know they were here. They thought if they just quietly crept into town, they’d be able to keep a low profile until Winter Carnival. They had some contract issues to sort out, I guess. They thought it would be easier to hide here. Anyway, it really leaked out after he hit Mia—I mean, after he hit Melanie. People started to collect at the inn, mostly kids, but there were a few guys with cameras. Pappa-whatchamacallits.”

“Paparazzi,” said Becky, not looking up. There was no point in encouraging Cully.

Cully ignored her. “Did Mia check out okay?” he asked.

Now it was John’s turn to ignore Cully. “Is Bill calm now?”

“Yeah, most everybody’s gone. There was one girl who really gave me a hard time. She was going to camp out right there until Strand made an entrance. She even gave me this letter to give to him.” Cully waved a crumpled envelope in the air and then stuffed it back into his pocket. “A couple of people did book rooms at the inn, but I told Gabe to just stay in his room for a while and I’d clear the crowds. Poor guy can’t get a deep breath without girls all over the place.”

Becky did look up now. She arched her eyebrows. “Gabe? Who is he? Your best friend?”

Cully was ignorant of her sarcasm. “That’s what he told me to call him. He’s a nice guy, and we got to talking about a lot of things. You know, he wanted to be a cop once?”

“Really?” said Becky skeptically. “Cully, go back to your desk and fill out the report. I don’t want to be here all night, and we’ve got to get this e-mailed to the state dispatcher for distribution.”

Cully made a face, but did as he was told, asking again as he disappeared into the tiny office across from her desk, “Hey, is Mia okay?”

“Yes, she just wrenched her shoulder,” John assured him as he turned to Becky. “How come we weren’t told about this guy?”

Becky shrugged. “He’s a private citizen. It’s a free country. He can do as he likes, I guess, and I guess he didn’t want anyone to know where he was.”

“For an anonymous guy, he sure has been a pain in the ass.”

Becky smiled. “He gave the girls quite a thrill, though.”

“Hmph,” the chief replied, snorting. “What time is it, Beck?”

She glanced at the clock on her desk. “It’s just about five,” she said. “Why don’t you go home, John? I’ll just wait for Cully’s report, and then I’m outta here.”

John set his mug down on her desk and heaved another habitual sigh. “You know, that’s what I’m going to do. I think I’m having adrenalin withdrawal. I’m feeling exhausted. Let the state dispatcher—who is it tonight?”

“I think it’s Gerry Ryan.”

“Let Gerry know I’m home, and make sure she’s got all the numbers. See you tomorrow, Becky.”

“Good night, John.”

Chapter Seven

J
OHN
G
IAMO
H
AD
T
HREE
P
ASSIONS
. In order, they were his wife, his food, and his garden. The second one had been giving him trouble lately. He’d been eating a little too much, exercising a little too infrequently. He had promised Melanie he would try to watch his intake, try to push himself to more physical activity. Certainly, he didn’t want the second passion to compromise his first passion. Tonight, however, was an exception. He’d been through the wringer today, and he wasn’t going to hold himself to any parameters. He was going to decompress. He tried consciously to turn off the police business in his head and think about food. Yes, he was hungry. This diet he was on was annoying him and making him crabby. Even though he wanted to lose the weight in a last-ditch effort to recapture at least part of the physique he had always taken for granted, he couldn’t think straight when he was hungry. Tonight, he would make a real comfort food meal. Something his grandmother might have made for dinner on a cold, snowy winter night, something to warm a body from the inside out.

He pulled the Suburban up to the small grocery store in town and went in. It was dark outside, but as always, the store was warm and inviting. Chandler’s Grocery had been in business since 1894 and had been run by the same Chandler family, father to son, for all those years. There was a Chandler’s Grocery in three other neighboring towns, each run by a brother—peers of John’s—and their spouses and half-grown children. In Clark’s Corner, the store occupied a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old Victorian house. The downstairs had been modified a hundred years before to accommodate the merchant’s business. The upstairs had been living quarters and still was. Brad Chandler’s two sons lived there, opening and closing the store every day.

Chandler’s Grocery was a comforting fixture in town. The ancient floor creaked when walked upon. It was decorated along the tops of the high shelves with dry goods-related soap boxes, cheese containers, and colorfully labeled fruit crates left by generations past. The store smelled good. You could buy anything you really needed there, and they sold the best meat in the whole southern end of the state. It was a place to make brief contact with neighbors, to glean little snippets of gossip, to come in out of the cold or the heat.

Marsha was at the check-out, where she had been for twenty years with her ever-present platinum hair piled high and her immaculately done fake scarlet fingernails. “Hi, Chief,” she said as he came through the door. “How are Melanie and Mia?”

“They’re fine. Mia’s got some whiplash, that’s all.”

“Oh, my brother-in-law got hit from behind, and he got whiplash bad. He suffers to this day. He gets terrible headaches, just awful,” Marsha rambled on, caught up in her own words.