“It was definitely underhanded. Maybe one day we’ll understand why River has a chip on his shoulder where you’re concerned.”
“I just want to forget he exists. I’m cutting all business and personal ties with him. He’s toxic.”
“He is lately,” I murmured.
Deputy Juan came walking up. “Sheriff, I hate to interrupt. But Wilma Grant is on the phone again complaining UFOs are circling her doghouse. She insists on speaking to you.”
I let out a tired breath. “See the exciting life I lead, Max?”
Maxwell smirked. “Go get ’em, Royce. Don’t let those UFOs steal those poor dogs and use them for alien testing. They’ve got to be stopped.”
Deputy Juan chuckled. “I shouldn’t laugh. This is the third time she’s called this month.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand why you guys can’t help her with this.”
“She asks for you, boss,” Deputy Juan said sheepishly.
I sighed. “Well, with the Raidens breathing down my neck, I guess I need every vote I can get. I’ll see you at home, Max.”
Maxwell appeared to be stifling a laugh. “Have fun chasing UFOs, Royce.”
****
I’d hoped maybe I could sneak away and surprise Maxwell at the Lemon Drop. But for some reason, we started getting a bunch of crazy calls coming in. Maybe it was a full moon or something, but whatever was happening, it made me doubt I’d be able to get away.
The one bright spot in my evening was the report that arrived in my email concerning the high heel. The lab had been able to lift one perfect print on the heel of the shoe. I was praying the print belonged to one of the people I’d already questioned, but no such luck.
Instead, the print belonged to a Geraldine Grayson. Her last known address was in Los Angeles, California. I was excited to get a name, but my excitement evaporated as I continued to read the report. Apparently, Geraldine had died ten years ago in a horrible traffic accident. She’d had no surviving blood relations. Geraldine hadn’t been married, and there were no children on record. Not counting the print on the high heel found in Janelle’s yard, there had been no activity in real life or online from Geraldine since her death. Which was to be expected.
So, how the heck is her print on a high heel in Rainy Dale, Texas?
I was definitely baffled by how a dead woman had left a print behind. The most obvious answer was that Geraldine wasn’t dead. But that was also a bizarre conclusion. If she hadn’t died ten years ago, where had she been? Why hadn’t she come forward? What was she doing in Rainy Dale? And most importantly, was she connected to Archie’s murder? Groaning, I rested my head on my desk. I was never going to solve this case tonight. It was getting more complicated by the minute. Any inquiries I made of anyone would go unanswered until tomorrow anyway. It might make more sense to leave this for now. I’d be better able to focus tomorrow with a rested mind. Plus, I really just wanted to get the hell out of my office and go see Max. He’d been beaming earlier, and I wanted to be a part of his happiness. As sad as I was that he’d move out of my home soon, I wanted to be there to support him tonight.
I straightened and glanced at the time. It was 7:15 p.m. If I left now, I’d have plenty of time to hang out with Max and Mrs. Numi. Maxwell had made it clear he wanted me there tonight. He didn’t ask me for things very often. I wanted to be there for him tonight. I wanted to prove to him that I really was happy for him. This case would wait until morning. I was allowed to have a life, right?
I stood and grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair. I told my deputies I was leaving for the night, and I left the station feeling cheerful. I breathed in the cool night air, knowing this was the right decision. There was more to life than crappy ATM footage and dead people’s fingerprints on shoes.
Life was too short, and tonight, I wanted to spend some quality time with my boyfriend.
Chapter Seventeen
Maxwell
Mrs. Numi was waiting for me at the Lemon Drop promptly at 7:00 p.m. I was impressed with the small bar the minute I walked in. Most of the bars and restaurants in Rainy Dale had western-themed décor. Not hugely surprising, but also not my taste. The Lemon Drop looked like many of the bars I’d enjoyed when I’d lived in the big city. It flaunted a lot of masculine black-and-gold decor, including modern onyx pendant lighting. The floor was a striking black-and-white art deco pattern, and for one brief moment, I felt like I wasn’t in Rainy Dale anymore.
“Maxwell, you made it,” Mrs. Numi cooed. Tonight, she seemed relaxed, whereas often she was wound as tight as a spring. I suspected she’d already downed a few martinis by the time I arrived. “You absolutely must try the espresso martini. It’s to die for.”
“Uh… sure.” I took one of the tall stools next to her at the bar.
Mrs. Numi caught the bartender’s eyes. “We’ll have another round, Sergio.”
The young Hispanic guy behind the bar gave her a wink. “You’ve got it, Mrs. Numi.”
She laughed and leaned closer to me. “I got Sergio a fabulous deal on a little house in town. It even had a hot tub, which he desperately wanted. He always takes such good care of me when I come in.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
She studied me. “How are you feeling? Happy?”
