Page 3 of Rest In Pink

“Let me think. Oh, I know. Remember that thing you were talking about doing at the oak by the river? With the rope from the old swing?”

I felt a surge of, let’s call it, anticipation. “Yes.”

“Okay. After dark. Tonight.”

I sighed in the face of current reality. “And if I don’t get him to leave?”

“Burney will not be a better place. But we can still give it a try as long as there’s no storm and the mosquitos aren’t biting. I’m having a frustrating day, and it’s not getting better, so I could use some boundary crossing tonight. We may have to negotiate some of it, though.”

“You’re a good woman, Liz Danger.”

“You don’t want a good woman. You want a willing woman under that tree by the river with rope.”

“It’s a matter of perspective,” I said. “You’ll need a dress like we talked about.”

“Already got it. Goodwill had a sale. Can you find out what he’s doing in town?”

“I think that post he put on the Burney Facebook page was pretty clear. He’s looking for dirt.” I smiled to myself remembering how we’d read it together last night, sitting close and naked on the stools at the diner counter, still a bit sweaty from sex. If I told someone that, they might think it perverted, but I live in an old diner, and it’s secluded deep in the woods on the flood plain of the Ohio River. So. Pretty standard for us.

Also, she’d already gotten a dress. She really was in on this. Liz Danger is a really good woman.

“He’s a shit disturber,” I told her. “He’s here to stir things up to unearth more.”

“He wants money,” Liz said. “He’s trying to monetize dirt. I looked at his damn link. Bastard is going to publish a book and you can pre-order it.”

“People would pay for that?”

“That’s why he’s posting this stuff. To get people to sign up for the book he’s going to self-publish. You’re going to give him a ticket, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Try to provoke him,” Liz suggested. “Turn on that Vince Cooper lack of charm. Make him sweat.”

“Roger that.” I hit the little red button and considered the tactical situation as I filled out the ticket. I hate paperwork.

I walked back to the Porsche and gave him the license and registration and the ticket. “You can mail in the fine. From far away.”

He smiled, which seemed to be his trademark. “I’ll pay in person at the police station and say hello to Chief George Pens.”

“I’d mail it in, if I were you.”

“How is Liz Danger?”

“Keep talking and I’m going to ticket you for loitering.”

He frowned. “You’re not very welcoming.”

“You’re not very welcome.”

He waved the ticket. “This part of the mayor’s monthly quota? Gouging motorists passing by Burney to fill the town’s coffers?”

He’d hit that one on the head, but it wasn’t a very well-kept secret. “You want to pass by, I’ll take the ticket back.”

He put it on the passenger seat, next to an old leather briefcase. “I’m staying.” There was luggage crammed behind two seats. Not an overnight bag, but luggage.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

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