Page 19 of All You Want
“Then find another job. One where you can play solitaire, take naps on your ergonomic chair, and sneak bites from your boss’s sandwich in the fridge.”
“That was Shane. Not me.” She pushes from the booth and wobbles on her way up to her feet.
I don’t bother steadying her. No sense touching her and getting accused of sexual assault. Her arms flail for balance, and she knocks a highball glass onto the wooden floor.
“Todd, it’s my fault,” Tami says. “I invited her to lunch to talk about police business.”
She bends down to pick up the glass Molly dropped and gives me an eyeful of bounteous cleavage.
“Stay out of it.” I snap my gaze back to Molly. “When I get back to the station, the only thing I’m giving you is your last paycheck.”
“I’m keeping the ergonomic chair.” She stumbles toward the door of the saloon.
“I’ll book you on theft. That chair was paid for by taxpayer money.”
“But it’s for my bad back.”
“It’s for the next dispatcher. If you steal it, I’ll dock your last paycheck. Now go and clear out.” I text Shane to let him know Molly is fired and to ask him to call the volunteer, Mrs. Anderson, to fill in.
“Well, aren’t you going to say anything to me?” Tami asks when I’m done with Shane.
“This is police business. Sorry you had to see that.” I tip my hat at her and walk away. I can’t let anyone suspect my true feelings for her, especially since she’s one of the town’s major rule breakers.
“Humph.” She huffs and puffs, but she’s genteel enough not to yell and rail in public like a nagging fishwife.
My heart’s beating extra fast though, because I don’t want to upset her. I’m still trying to get her permit approved, but it means extra deputies and security costs at a time when the town’s budget is already overdrawn.
“Uncle Chip.” I stop in front of the back bar and pull up onto a barstool. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“I saw you coming. What was that all about with Molly back there?” Uncle Chip and his cronies have a half-empty pitcher of beer between them, piles of nachos and chicken wings, and are generally having an early happy hour.
“Police business.” I take a tortilla chip from the pile of nachos and crunch on its cheesy goodness. “Did you go over the figures for the private security guards and parking aides for Spooky Fest?”
“We can’t afford them,” Chip says. “We’re already shorthanded at the town square. Extending the festival to the red-light district, I mean ATC, is stretching our resources too thin.”
“Then why did you approve Tami’s building permit?”
My uncle’s friends chuckle and roll their eyes. They call themselves The Vice, short for vice squad, but I know them as Walt, Donnie, Johnson, and Corny.
“What’s so funny?” The hairs on the back of my neck squirm, and I can sense a pair of high-powered eyeballs drilling holes into my back.
Corny raises an eyebrow. “She’s standing but two feet in back of you.”
“Yeah, Sheriff, you’re losing your touch,” Johnson says. “She could have knifed you already. Like old Madame Goldilocks back in the day. Sweet as honey and sharp as a straight-edge razor.”
I refuse to turn around and let them needle me.
“This isn’t personal, and all of you know it. If we can’t afford the additional security, we’ll have to cancel the event.”
“My hotel is private property,” Tami says. “I don’t need a permit if I’m not having a public gathering. I’ve already received my business license. I have a right to book as many guests as I want.”
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” I say without turning around. “But since you’ve decided to keep your guests within the confines of lodging in your hotel without a party that exceeds the fire code limit or spills out into the public roads, then you don’t need an event permit.”
“Problem solved.” Uncle Chip claps his fleshy hands. “Let’s drink a round to that. Miss King, do you agree to keep your party private, limited to hotel guests, and cancel the campout?”
“As long as I can build a buzz on social media. This is a grand opening.” Tami digs her fingernails into my forearm and whips me around to face her.
“That’s your problem, not mine. My job is simple. Public safety. If we have another disaster like we had during Gold Rush Week, we can kiss all our tourist business goodbye.”
