At the confirmation there was no general round-up of criminals imminent, the townies went back to their chatter while Truman stood and welcomed the deputy.
“We can sit in the sunroom. Is it okay if Sam comes with us?” he asked, gesturing to me. “He’s my… boyfriend.” As soon as the word was out of his mouth, he shot a nervous glance at me as if waiting for me to correct him in front of everyone. I noticed a little squeal of excitement coming from the general direction of where Mikey stood at the kitchen island.
“Sam Rigby, nice to meet you,” I said instead, holding out a hand to shake.
Stone shook my hand. “Declan Stone. And that’s fine.”
Tiller handed the deputy a mug of coffee and thrust a plate of pastries at him as well. “No breakfast, no entry. Sorry, but those are Mikey’s rules. Apparently.”
The deputy’s stern face finally softened into a smile. “I’m certainly not going to turn down something that smells this good. Thank you.”
After we got settled in the sunroom around a wooden pedestal table most likely meant for card games or puzzles, the deputy explained the surprising reason for his visit.
“I got a message from the fire investigators first thing this morning and stopped by the hospital before the shift change to reinterview the witnesses.”
I glanced at Mikey. I hadn’t known he’d reached out to the fire investigator already about the cigar break. Could we trust a Rockley County deputy to run down the discrepancy?
“And you were right,” Stone continued. “Most of the Stanner men took a long cigar break in the parking lot sometime between eleven and midnight. Any of them could have made it to your shop and back during that time. I’m sorry, Truman.”
He seemed sincere. A crease of concern appeared between his brows as he took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Can you tell me more about what I heard back there in the kitchen? About a pension scheme?”
Truman glanced at me as if looking for a sign of whether or not he should trust the deputy. I wasn’t sure one way or the other, but I did know that at some point, it would cease to matter. And it would be better to know which side of good and evil this deputy was on.
I nodded slightly, and Truman went on to explain to Deputy Stone what had been going on with the sheriff’s department, vandalism, and the demand for contributions to this sketchy program.
As he spoke, Deputy Stone’s professionally bland expression showed signs of cracking. I could tell he was both horrified and somewhat unsurprised. He finally leaned toward Truman with a heartfelt promise.
“I will get to the bottom of this. Regardless of whether or not there is such a fund and the collection of monies for it is legitimate, no resident should feel unsafe around their own local law enforcement professionals.” He looked uncomfortable with the position we’d just put him in.
“Are you sure you’re the right person to handle this?” I challenged.
He let out a combination of a laugh and sigh. “I don’t have a choice. But considering I left my previous position after blowing the whistle on a bribery scheme involving some of our officers, it looks like I’ve found a new calling.”
Truman seemed relieved by the news, but I was more concerned. “Will that hinder your credibility in this case?”
Deputy Stone shook his head. “Just the opposite. I made some good contacts at the FBI during the investigation, so I know exactly who to call. We’ll get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can.”
“There’s more to this story,” I added. “It goes back a long way with the Stanners and encompasses more than the fund.”
With a shaky voice, Truman explained what had happened back in December, why he hadn’t reported seeing Gene Stanner’s truck, and some of the other things that had happened that the sheriff would have never pursued. Then he touched on the fire and finished up by telling him what had happened to us on the side of the mountain.
“And you’re sure it was the same truck?” he asked, scribbling notes quickly in a little notepad.
Truman nodded. “Yes, sir. I didn’t see the driver either time, but it was Gene Stanner’s old truck. It has a red bumper sticker on the back with some kind of acronym on it and the outline of a ski lift.”
He nodded and sighed. “Well, shit. I don’t even know what to say to all that. I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through, and I assure you I’ll pursue this as quickly as possible. Give me a little time to contact the right players before I get myself involved by questioning you any further. That could be seen as interference since I’m in the department. In the meantime, if you feel unsafe or have any need of my help, please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He gave Truman his card and shook both of our hands. I wasn’t sure what his plan was, but it was clear he was in for a challenge. Being new in town and not knowing who to trust couldn’t have been easy.
When we returned to the kitchen, Mikey took the opportunity to introduce the deputy to the various locals in the room. He’d always been social like that and wanted nothing more than for everyone to get along. Mikey was like a natural public relations firm for the future ski resort even if that wasn’t his intention.
The deputy accepted another cup of coffee and took a seat at the kitchen table where several other people had gathered around platters of muffins and sausage rolls.
Since no party was complete without a grumpy librarian, Barney showed up and joined the fun. His face made no secret of his feelings about seeing Truman surrounded by so much activity this soon after his visit to the hospital.
“What in the world is going on here?” he asked, rushing over to Truman and putting his hand on Truman’s forehead like a worried mom.
Truman’s face crinkled in confusion. “What are you doing? I’m fine.”
“You were just in the hospital! You need to be at home resting. Why are these people—”
Truman cut him off. “I said, I’m fine. And I needed to meet with Deputy Stone anyway. Come sit down and have a cup of coffee.”
I expected Barney to decline or to try to get Truman out of there, but he surprised me by moving over to take a seat at the table near the deputy.
He introduced himself to the man and joined the conversation, politely asking Deputy Stone where he’d moved from and what he thought of the area so far.
As Truman fixed Barney a cup of coffee, Tiller leaned over to me and spoke in a low voice. “Is he simply going to be a necessary evil now?”
I shrugged. “Truman is desperate to stay friends with him, and I can’t decide if it’s because of his guilt at not dating the man or his big heart at wanting to include someone who clearly doesn’t have many friends.”
Mikey stepped in close to us to join the whispered gossip session. “At least he didn’t try and yank him out of here like he did before.”
When Truman walked the coffee cup over to Barney, Barney thrust his chair back suddenly so he could reach for it. Too late, I saw the chair legs tangle in my saddlebags and shove them right in the way of Truman’s feet.
“Wait!” I cried, trying to warn him before he got hurt and hot coffee went everywhere.
But it was too late. Truman’s foot hit the saddlebags, knocking them over. He lurched forward to try and grab the table with his free hand, and Barney was able to save the coffee mug from going flying.