Page 2 of Out to Get Her
This time.
For crying out loud, the one crime she’d actually been investigated for was years ago. How was she going to settle all of her grandpa’s affairs and get back to her life if the whole town was still accusing her of every single petty-ass crime. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone jumped around the corner and accused her of clogging Grandpa Darryl’s artery.
The still-unidentified asshole grunted, and Erin took that as her cue to bail. Once in her car, she twisted open one of the drinks and tossed the other on her passenger seat.
Great, the inside of her car smelled like smoke now. Not that it had smelled delightful before, but at least it hadn’t smelled like a grease fire.
She wondered how bad that fire at Addie’s really was. Like… was it just a little grease fire that had burned a tiny corner of the kitchen, or was it a no-way-in-hell-you’re-getting-a-BLT level of bad?
A peek wouldn’t hurt, right?
Curiosity and hunger got the best of her, so she put the cap back on her Dr. Pepper and aimed for the smoke cloud.
* * *
“I’m telling you, Sam, someone is out to get me.”
Samantha tightened her grip on the pen and clipboard in her hands and fought to unclench her jaw. A stress headache wouldn’t do her any good. Especially since this weekandAddie were out to get Samanthanow.
She calmly and silently raised an eyebrow at the late-middle-aged woman before her in the bright pink collared shirt and turquoise apron. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a neat bun, not a strand out of place despite the ruckus of the fire.
“I’m sorry,Sergeant Ardoin,” she corrected. Her thick Cajun accent oozed through the contempt-laden apology. “But I mean it. And it’snotpost-traumatic stress or whatever. Someone is really out to close my store, I tell you.”
This wasn’t the first time Adeline Weaver had come up with a wild conspiracy theory, but this was the first one that involved arson. The last thing Samantha needed was a bogus arson complaint a week and a half before the election. Sure, she could clearly prove this was accidental—and had statements to back that up—but the paperwork alone would be a nightmare. Not to mention the hit-job Adeline would initiate if Samantha openly dismissed the woman’s crack-pot theory of the week.
“Addie, I just spoke to your own kitchen staff, and they all gave statements that this was an accident.”
Three people were on record with the same story. Too many ice crystals on a batch of fries splashed oil onto a nearby burner. Flames went up on the stove, but since Addie kept the hood and grease traps clean, the fire remained pretty isolated. Could have been a lot worse.
“Maybe one of them did it. Or maybe one of them’s covering for someone else.”
Samantha took a deep breath and tried her best to remain calm. But calm was nearly impossible in this woman’s presence. Still, nothing would get solved here today if Samantha lost her cool. Least of all this case.
“So you want to make an official statement suggesting that a member ofyour own staffset fire to your restaurant. Is that what you want me to write down on this piece of paper?”
Addie was a lot of things, many of them not pleasant, but she was by all accounts an excellent person to work for. She treated her employees like family—for good or worse—and bought them each unique gifts every Christmas and baked them each a cake for their birthdays, all personalized to their tastes.
“Well, no.” She frowned. “Aw hell, don’t you dare write that down.”
Samantha raised her brow, but put the pen down.
“And don’t give me that eye,Sergeant Ardoin. I changed your diapers for a year when your mama first went back to work. You may be a grown woman now and a sergeant, but I will not have you disrespecting me with those pretty brown eyes of yours.”
The diaper thing. Again. It was Addie’s one card to play whenever she was in some kind of trouble and needed to pretend she had the authority in a situation. Over the years Samantha discovered it was simply Addie’s way of flailing like a wounded animal backed into a corner. When the diaper line came out, Samantha knew she was actually the one with the upper hand, whether or not Addie realized it.
Fighting back a smile, Samantha said, “All right. Then whatwouldyou like me to say?”
“I want you to find out who set my kitchen on fire. That’s what I want.”
She wouldn’t let this go, would she? Samantha would have to make a whole charade of an investigation to appease Addie. Once again.
That should be simple enough. It just wasn’t how she wanted to spend her time this week.
A spot of blue the shade Addie’s apron caught Samantha’s attention in the restaurant parking lot.
It was hair. Turquoise hair. Not exactly a regular sight here in Etta, but someone’s teenager could have easily ordered dye online, even if they couldn’t find any in a store for fifty miles.
The owner of the hair closed the driver’s side door of a gray compact car. They stood fairly still, looking at the building, assessing the damage. Some nosy onlooker, like the dozens she’d turned away earlier.
