To Love And Protect. Muriel Jensen
“That’s it. I don’t know what she thinks I’m doing here, but she seems convinced I’m up to no good.”
“Ah. That’s because I’m sure word is out now that you’re here to see me. She’s from Manzanita, a little town up the road where my family lived. We didn’t have a very good reputation. My father was a nice man, but hung around with people who weren’t, and Juanita was a dragon. My stepmother,” she explained. “She was unpleasant to everyone except her two daughters from a previous marriage.”
“But that’s them. How did you come by this reputation?”
She rested the coffeepot on the table. “One Easter when I was eleven, Juanita made dresses for her girls but not for me. Her girls were sweet and obedient. I wasn’t. Actually, they were scared and I wasn’t. I saw a dress in the window at a thrift shop, but I didn’t have any money. So, I stole it.” She arched an eyebrow. “Mrs. McMinn ran the shop at the time. She caught me and called the police. Juvenile Court made me pay it back. I think you’re considered suspect if you have anything to do with me.”
She couldn’t tell what he thought of that, but he finally nodded and said, “All right. Good to know.”
When Ben was finished, Corie took away his plate and put a dessert bowl containing custard with a sweet-smelling brown sauce in its place.
“Flan,” she said, “with caramel espresso sauce.” And walked away again, saying over her shoulder, “Best custard you’ll ever have.”
* * *
CORIE WAS CLEARING tables when Robert Pimental arrived just before closing. He stopped inside the door for a moment, supposedly to scan the room for Sukie but Corie suspected it was to pose there. He had visions of himself as an important figure who was generally irresistible to women. Sukie waved madly to get his attention.
He strode toward her table, about five-seven of portly arrogance. He’d come into office with his friend the mayor several years ago. The mayor had ALS and had been allowed to have a deputy for the times when the job was hard for him. The illness had sidelined the mayor a year ago and left Pimental to do pretty much as he liked in this town of two thousand.
Publicly, he’d made a few changes to earn favor with his constituents—removed parking meters, spruced up the park and playground, and created a committee to attract business to Querida.
Privately he was a philanderer with a Jaguar and an extravagant lifestyle, unusual for a small-town politician without a large inheritance.
Before Corie knew about his behavior in private, she’d gone to him for help in fighting Cyrus Tyree’s efforts to evict Teresa. She’d found him in an empty hallway, on his way to a meeting. Pimental had appeared willing to help until it became clear that he expected payment in return—and not in cash. When she’d turned to leave, he’d caught her arm to show her how generous she would have to be in return for his cooperation.
She’d swung her purse at him, forgetting that it contained a small coffee can in which she kept her tips. The loaded purse had left a visible scar above his right eye.
He’d been infuriated by her rejection—and her coffee can of tips—and had her arrested for assault. Fortunately for her, a delivery person had seen everything and volunteered to testify for her. Pimental had dropped the charges but there was venom in his eyes every time he looked at her.
As now. He stopped her as he made his way toward Sukie. “Coffee,” he said to Corie. “Decaf. And coconut cream pie.”
They were out of coconut cream. She couldn’t help but be happy about that.
* * *
BEN SAVORED THE last bite of flan and pulled his coffee cup toward him. A large man in kitchen whites approached his table.
“You’re Ben,” he said, offering his hand. There was an undercurrent of accusation in the statement.
Ben shook his hand and tried to stand in the narrow booth. “I am.” The man gestured him back down.
“I’m Hector, Corie’s boss.”
“Ah. Wonderful dinner. Those were the best shrimp I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you.” Hector squeezed into the opposite side of the booth. “Why are you here?” he asked bluntly.
Surprised by that question, Ben replied politely, “Family business.”
“But you’re not her family. Your brother is her brother, but you’re not...her brother.”
Ben laughed as Hector struggled with the family connections. “You must have her confidence if you know the Palmer-Manning family structure.”
“Manning?”
“Manning was their mother’s name and since their fathers came and went rapidly, their mother thought it was easier for all of them if they went by her name. Jack was adopted by my family, so he’s now a Palmer.”
Hector nodded, then tried to lean toward him but his girth was too firmly wedged into the booth to allow that. “She’s my friend,” he said, “and one of the best waitresses I’ve ever had.” He bobbed his head from side to side. “There are some not-so-good stories from when she was a kid. She had a tough life.”
Ben agreed with that but had to add, “She was arrested for assault just last year.”
Hector hooked a thumb in the direction of the man who’d arrived a short time ago. “Against him. She was defending herself from...you know.”
The man in question was now nuzzling a blonde, who seemed pleased by his attention. “That’s Pimental?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t seem particularly impressive or scary, though Ben had been a cop long enough to never trust appearances.
“Why is he allowed to remain in office if he behaves like that with women?”
Hector made a scornful sound. “The charges were dropped. The case never went to trial, but the point is, what happened wasn’t her fault. Don’t give her trouble about things she can’t do anything about.”
“I’m not here to give her trouble. I’m here to find out the truth...” He doubted Corie had confided in her boss about stealing the jewels. “About some personal things.”
Hector measured him with a look. “All right. See that you don’t or I’ll have to give you trouble. And don’t think I can’t.”
“Understood.”
“Good.”
As Hector shifted out of the booth, angry words came from Pimental, who was now standing at the cash register with Sukie.
Ben leaned sideways to see what was going on.
“I got this,” Hector said and started toward Pimental and Corie, who stood behind the counter.
Ben wandered over anyway. Corie was handing back Pimental’s credit card. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was declined. Do you want to use another one?”
Pimental pushed it back at her. “I said, run it again.”
“And I said,” she replied, “I ran it twice. It was declined. Twice.”
“That’s impossible.”
She turned the credit card processing terminal toward him. The word DECLINED was clearly visible on the small screen. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll just bet you are,” Pimental said darkly.
Corie smiled blandly. “Is it possible your wife overdrew it and neglected to tell you?”
Ben had to admire her complete disregard for discretion considering the man was here with another woman. Pimental’s face flushed dark red.
“Oh,