“I’m not sure the new chief will see things that way.” Truth be told, Frankie wasn’t entirely sure what Roman would think about anything. Yesterday he’d taken her by surprise with the offer to help secure Jasper a position in the department, and now pretty much every thought she’d had about him had to be reconsidered. “I want you all to be prepared, just in case.”
“Forewarned is forearmed.” Myra added two cups of water to her pan and began to stir. “We’ll talk to him.”
“Um.” Frankie winced. “I’m not sure—” She broke off when Myra and Delilah both looked at her. “Never mind. Yep. Go ahead and talk to him. How many are you expecting tonight?”
“Sixteen. Including you. Monty coming?”
“Afraid not,” Frankie said. “He’s taken a charter up to San Francisco for the weekend.”
“Hmm. Fifteen then. Unless you can find a partner.” Myra arched a thin orange brow in her direction.
“Depends. What’s on the menu?”
“I’m making jambalaya. Oh, good. Alice got the right salsa. My secret ingredient.”
Frankie took one look at the spicy pepper on the jar and made plans to line her stomach with steel before she arrived. “I’d best get going. If you forgot anything, let me know. I can stop on the way.”
“See you tonight!” Myra called after her.
Frankie stopped long enough in the living room to say hello to Oscar, Marty and Eloise, then, on her way out, scooped up one of the crocheted granny-square afghans off the shelf by the sofa. She draped it over Alice’s lap, gently settling her hands beneath it, as well. Just as she stepped off the ramp, her phone buzzed.
“Hey, Ozzy. What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a report of a crashed car up on Field Crescent. Description of the car tells me it might belong to Oliver Hideman. Luke’s tied up in a meeting, and Matt and Fletcher are on patrol on the other side of town.”
“Don’t worry, Oz. I’ve got it.” Frankie hopped into the car.
“No, Luke would kill me if he knew you were handling it on your own. You know Oliver. He’s mean as a cat when he’s drunk, and we both know he’s probably—”
“Half in the bottle? Yeah, when isn’t he? Don’t bother Luke with this. I’ll get backup.” She made a tight U-turn and headed into town, lights flashing but siren silent.
“Who?”
“You’ve got Salazar’s phone number in the system yet?”
“Next on my list. I was just getting—”
“I don’t need him called.” She put her sunglasses on. “Just tell me where he is.”
* * *
“MAYOR.” ROMAN WAS happy to meet the man, but tried to keep his surprise to himself. Given what he’d heard about Gil Hamilton, he’d been expecting someone who was about ready to join the Cocoon Club. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with a guy close to his own age with sandy blond hair, looking as if he were waiting for Biff and Chip to go catch some waves. “I’ve been trying to track you down for a couple of days now. Good to finally meet you.”
“Oh, right. Hello.” Gil offered a weak smile, then double-checked the placement of his yellow hard hat. “Sorry. Been an eventful couple of days. Didn’t mean to dodge you.”
And yet Roman had the distinct feeling that’s exactly what Gil had been doing. “If you have a few minutes now, I wanted to touch base. Won’t take long. And it’ll save both of us from needing a formal appointment later.”
“Yeah, sure.” Gil shifted from one foot to another. “Do you mind, Xander?”
“Not at all,” Xander said. “Want to check in with Alethea anyway.” He jerked his thumb toward the food truck at the far end of the site.
“Alethea’s his sister, right?” Roman asked as Gil led them toward the trailer office on the edge of a thick outcropping of eucalyptus trees.
“Yes. She works for Jason Corwin up at the Flutterby’s restaurant. He’s branching out and asked her to run the food truck. Have to admit, man’s got a great nose for business. He’s turned Flutterby Dreams into a major tourist attraction, and that truck makes a killing. Also helps that Alethea’s a great cook. So.” The door snapped shut behind them. Gil walked behind a desk and took a seat, his beige chinos and yellow-and-green-striped polo shirt nearly fading into his surroundings. “How are you settling in?”
“As well as can be expected given the circumstances.” Refusing the offered seat, Roman leaned against the wall, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his cargo pants.