BABA SAT AT a small table in Bertie’s, drinking coffee and trying to pretend that she belonged there. To her amazement, it seemed to be working. One thing about small towns, she thought, word got around fast. People she’d met nodded to her as she came into the room; people she hadn’t met looked at her curiously, seemed to figure out exactly who she was, and went back to their food. It was an odd feeling for someone who was always a stranger everywhere she went. Odder yet, she almost thought she liked it.
“Sorry I’m late,” Belinda said, sliding into the seat across from Baba. “We’ve been going crazy down at the station, trying to keep up with all sorts of weird calls from normally sane people.” Dark circles shadowed her eyes as she gazed across the table at Baba. “I don’t suppose you’ve made any progress finding Mary Elizabeth?” Hope and despair warred with each other on her pretty face, the despair winning when Baba shook her head.
“I’ve got a couple of leads I’m following up on,” Baba said. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything more concrete to tell you than that. But we will get your daughter back, I promise you.” She found herself making the promise as much to the universe as to the deputy; she liked this woman, with her brave heart and her unyielding faith in the Baba. Barbara wasn’t going to let her down.
“Heya, Belinda,” a waitress said as she came up to the table. Lucy, Baba thought, recognizing the pouf of blond hair. “Hey, Miz Yager. I gotta tell ya, that cream you gave me for my bunions worked a treat.” She wiggled one wide foot, clad in bright red sneakers with zebra-striped laces. “First time my foot hasn’t hurt in two years.” She turned her beaming smile on Belinda, patting the deputy on the shoulder with a motherly air. “How ya holdin’ up, honey?”
Belinda gave the older woman a shaky smile in return. “I’m doing okay, Lucy. Just a cup of coffee for me, okay? I’m not too hungry.”
Lucy scowled. “You’re on your lunch break, ain’t ya? Then you’re havin’ lunch. I’ll bring ya some of the chicken soup we got on special; nothin’ goes down easier than chicken soup. It’ll cure just about anything that ails ya.” She snorted a laugh. “Of course, whatever it don’t cure, Miz Yager here will, ain’t that right?” She patted Baba on the shoulder too, and walked jauntily off in the direction of the kitchen.
Baba blinked. “People around here certainly are friendly,” she said, not sure if that was a good thing or not. Friendly usually made her twitch. This town must be getting under her skin.
“Well, I think word’s getting around about all the good you’re doing with your herbal remedies,” Belinda said, toying with the little gold stud in one ear. Baba noticed that her nails were chewed down to the quick.
“Huh,” Baba said. “It’s a good cover story, and I like working with the plants. Earth is my primary element, I guess you could say. Still, it’s not a big deal; I like healing people.”
“Just not talking to them, right?” Belinda said with a tiny smile. “I appreciate you meeting me here. I can tell you’re not much of a ‘let’s have lunch’ kind of woman.”
Baba snorted. “Not hardly.” She looked around the room. “But I like this place. And the coffee is damned good. Besides, you asked nicely.” She just wished she had more than empty reassurances to give the poor woman. “And maybe now we can discuss that second impossible task.”
She smothered a chuckle at the look of alarm that spread over Belinda’s face.
“Um, okay,” Belinda said, swallowing hard. “What is it?”
Baba gave her a serious look, then gestured at the covered cases that lined the counter. “Help me figure out which kind of pie to get. I’m completely torn between the strawberry rhubarb and the mixed berry with the crumble topping.”
Belinda’s startled laughter was reward enough for coming. Damn—this place really was getting to her.
*
THE MAYOR’S OFFICE was designed to be imposing. It was situated in one of the oldest buildings in town, a certified historical monument to a more prosperous time, when the railroad still ran and Dunville was a hub of commerce and travel. Outside, the marble steps and ornate columns gave way to massive carved wood doors that opened on to a spacious lobby with high, painted tin ceilings. Unlike the sheriff’s department, this building was kept in perfect condition, the white walls shining and the oak trim oiled until it gleamed.