The Summer of Our Discontent (5 page)

Chief went on about his pet projects—a vacant house on the corner of Whitlow and Burgess that was ripe for drug activity and speeding on Main Street. Rachel listened to the orders for beefed-up patrols as she kept an eye on Chance, who was struggling to remain conscious.

Chance was a few inches over six feet tall. A Hispanic father and a Cajun French mother guaranteed his dark olive skin and brown eyes. When Rachel had first met him, his hair was a deep rich brown, almost black. He blamed his three sons for the gray that was now on both temples. Broad-shouldered and well-built, Chance was intimidating to many in town with the exception of family and Rachel. He’d been her strongest ally in the department and had been her training officer when she started out on the streets. To Rachel, he was a giant teddy bear with a kind heart. She considered him her brother.

“Let me reiterate, the house on Whitlow and speed control on Main Street are our priorities. Do more than just drive by the vacant place on Whitlow. Get out, walk around, let the people in that neighborhood see a real police presence. Any questions?” Chief asked and got the usual silent response. His “be safe” concluded the meeting.

Chance scowled at Rachel. “Why didn’t you nudge me?”

“I would’ve, but I noticed you drooling about the same time Chief did.”

“I drooled?” He ran his hand over his mouth, then looked down at his dark blue uniform shirt.

“CJ on the move again?” Rachel put on her uniform ball cap and pulled her hair through the back.

“Yes, we caught him climbing out the window again. He’s in love, and apparently, her parents aren’t home a lot.”

“You need to get an alarm system installed.” Rachel headed toward the door with Chance on her heels. “You wanna go to the diner for breakfast?”

Chance squinted against the bright morning sun as they walked into the parking lot. “Dumb question, officer. Race you there. I’ll know if you use your siren, so don’t cheat.”

Tibby’s Diner served a twofold purpose. It was on Main Street, and their cars parked on the curb deterred speeders. The second was breakfast. Rachel rolled her windows down and cruised slowly, enjoying the spring morning. The trees along the streets in the older part of town formed a canopy above. Flowers in bloom filled her car with their perfume. She breathed in deeply, sighed, then promptly sneezed. She loved spring, but it didn’t love her.

Chance was already seated and looked smug when Rachel walked into the diner and took a seat next to him at their table by the window. There was no need to put up a sign that read,
Reserved for police between seven and eight a.m.
, it was just a given. The table in the far opposite corner belonged to the fire department, and those who sat between them were often entertained by dirty looks and sometimes a cleverly disguised hand gesture.

In other communities, these two departments worked closely together, and the Michaud departments were no exception. The rivalry between Chauvin and Leblanc had, however, formed a divide between the agencies, as well. Fire was red, police blue, and when outside the call of duty, the two came together, and the color, of course, was purple—bruises when tempers flared. That was rare and only occurred on the softball field. Both departments mostly settled for practical jokes that bordered on evil.

“Leblanc’s on duty,” Chance whispered.

“Yeah, I saw her, but I’ve already hot-sauced her coffee twice this month. She’ll be expecting it.” Rachel picked up the menu, though she knew it by heart, hoping to concoct a new and tastier breakfast combo.

“Jacob caught a grass snake. He has it in a cardboard box in the garage.” Chance casually draped an arm over the chair next to him. “I’m just saying it’d be awfully funny for that snake to find its way into the MFD rescue unit.”

“That’s so last week,” Rachel said nonplussed and tossed the menu aside. “Besides, Leblanc’s been keeping it locked when they’re not on a call. Did I tell you that her sister Patty moved back to town? She’s living with Faith and has a daughter
Kaycee’s
age. They’ve become big buddies.”

“Oh, sucks to be you. I don’t remember Patty. Is she as obnoxious as her sister?”

Rachel shrugged. “Surprisingly, she’s really sweet. I was tempted to ask if she was adopted, but she does favor Faith a lot, and so does Sophie.”

A frown creased Chance’s face. “I’m gonna miss you when you go off to camp. Sheridan and Pike are splitting your shift. Sheridan gets on my nerves with his nonstop chatter.”

Rachel grinned. “Tell him that Faith thinks he’s hot.”

“He knows she’s gay.”

“He also thinks he can make any lesbian go straight. He’ll be on her like a duck on a June bug,” Rachel said with a smile. “Hook ’
em
up.”

*******

“Oh, you’re a smug bitch, but I see the way you look over here every now and then. You know you want some Alvin.”

“Eat your breakfast, then go straight to the eye doctor,
then
go see a shrink about your sexual dysfunction.” Faith swatted at the bright blond cowlick on his head. “And hey, do something about that alfalfa sprout you have going on.”

Alvin rubbed the condensation on his glass and ran his hand over his hair. “I’m letting it grow. I’m gonna go for the
Bieber
look. You know, the long bangs swept to the side? I’ll look like a surfer dude.”

“
Bieber
doesn’t even wear the
Bieber
anymore, get with the times, dude. You look like you have an antenna up there.” Faith made a face. “It’s distracting.”

Alvin shrugged her off. “Amber gave me a huge tube of KY—”

“I don’t wanna know why she’s giving you lube.”

“For their door handles.” He threw a glance at what they considered the “blue” table. “I’m gonna grease them up first chance I get. Hey, next week, let’s take my boat out. The weather’s getting right.”

Faith shook her head as she finished off her yogurt and berries. “I’m…thinking about going to camp with my niece. Sophie really wants to go, and Patty’s not comfortable with the idea unless I go along.”

“Aren’t you a little old for summer camp?” Alvin asked seriously.

Faith pushed her bowl aside. “In your case, it really is true what they say about blonds. Do you ever find W’s in your M&M’s?”

Alvin shrugged. “I don’t look that close, I just eat ’
em
.”

Chapter Seven

Rachel made the drive to the house on Whitlow, and as requested, she got out and walked around. Boards on the porch creaked beneath her weight as she looked in the windows. Fast-food bags and beer cans littered the floors inside. Ceiling tiles hung down, and there were holes in the sheetrock. Shrubs lining the porch were overgrown and covered with poison ivy. Rachel hopped off the porch and took a well-worn path around to the overgrown backyard. The gate to the chain-link fence stood open, and there was more trash in back. The windows had all been broken out.

It was a sad sight. She remembered the place from her childhood as always neat and tidy. Anna Font used to sit out on the porch in the afternoons and wave at her when she went by on her bike. The neighborhood then had been a nice place to live, but as newer homes were built, people moved out. A lot of the places on Whitlow had been bought up by Jimmy Carmichael, who also owned the pawn shop in town. He was a terrible landlord who attracted a rough element of tenants.

She yawned as she walked around the place. A Tibby’s special, her lunch, was weighing heavily in the pit of her stomach. It seemed a good idea to order extra cheese on the sandwich heavily laden with spicy gravy. As of late, her shifts seemed to revolve around breakfast and lunch with a few traffic citations written in between. Her evening jogs around the park were going to have to be lengthened to combat her eating habits. She needed something to get her moving, and a minute later, she got her wish.

“Unit seven,” dispatch said over the radio, and Rachel began heading back to her car as she keyed the lapel
mic
on her shoulder.

“Unit seven on Whitlow, go ahead.”

The address given was one Rachel knew by heart. She didn’t need to look at the computer console in her car to know that she was responding to a domestic disturbance. Paul and Lottie Bishop fought at least once a week, more on holidays.

“Unit seven en route.”

“Fire rescue and EMS en route also, injuries reported.”

“Unit five at Burgess and Haig, also en route,” Chance chimed in.

Rachel was closer, but Chance managed to beat her by half a second. Lottie came barreling toward them before they’d fully gotten out of their cars. She was wearing her usual sweatpants and floral blouse combination. Her overdone green eye shadow was caked on her lids, and the crimson lipstick stood out against her pale skin. She had a full head of hair but favored her blond Dolly Parton-looking wig. It was on her head most days except for when Paul knocked it off.

Chance held up a hand. “From the top, Lottie, what happened?”

“I was on the phone with my momma, and Paul come in there just a-
fussin
’ about dinner not
bein
’ done. Well, I was
cookin
’. Surely, he saw the pots on the stove.” Lottie put a hand on her hip. “He wanted me off of that phone, so he snatched it and pulled my hair. Well, I gave ’
em
a
warnin
’ shove, then he came at me again. Now y’all know me, when I give a
warnin
’ shove, you better back the hell off. That fool didn’t, though.” She jerked a thumb toward the house. “Y’all can find him in the china cabinet.”

Chance glanced at Rachel and nodded toward the house. She was thankful because he was really taking one for the team by silently offering to deal with the behemoth. Lottie Bishop weighed no less than two hundred fifty pounds, yet she didn’t look like she had an ounce of fat on her. At six-foot-three, she intimidated the hell out of everyone, except apparently for Paul who ironically was a wisp of a man. Her real name was Lucinda, but her father started calling her Lottie when she was five because there was a lot of her. Rachel called out to Paul as she walked in through the front door and didn’t get a response. When she stepped over broken glass to get into the kitchen, she understood why. Paul Bishop was indeed in the china cabinet. He looked like a crumpled ragdoll that had been tossed on a shelf. Rachel put her ear close to his mouth and felt his breath on her cheek.

“Paul,” she said, patting his face gently, and keyed her lapel
mic.
“Unit seven, ETA on EMS?”

“Standby.”

Chance’s voice came over the radio. “Unit five to seven, they’re pulling up now. I’ll send them in.”

Seconds later, Rachel heard voices, and Faith walked in ahead of the ambulance crew. All three of them stopped and stared for a second. “Oh, my God,” Faith said as she moved closer.

“He’s breathing.” Rachel pointed to a strip of wood. “This piece is what’s holding him in.” She stepped out of the way. “I need to get back outside, but if you hear Lottie coming back in, you’d better run out the back door and take Paul with you.”

Chance motioned for her to join him where he stood near his car when she walked outside. Lottie with her arms folded paced back and forth in front of the garage. “How’s Paul look?” He kept an eye on what looked like a lumberjack in drag.

“Pretty bad off, unconscious.” Rachel glanced at Lottie. “He looks like she wadded him in a ball and threw him on a shelf.”

“She doesn’t have a scratch on her, not even a grab mark on her arm. Chief said the next time she tied Paul into a knot, we’re supposed to bring her in for domestic assault. I went ahead and called for backup, they should be here soon.” Chance smiled at Rachel. “I’d prefer not to have to make a move until then.”

Lottie had other ideas. “Chance, get these cars out of my way. I’m gonna go see my momma.”

Rachel thought she heard him whimper before he held up a hand. “Lottie, there’s only one side of the story here right now, and we have to follow procedure. What I need you to do is put both hands on the hood of my car.”