“I took David to a place in Crystalton called the Yard Sale,” Paige replied as she filled Grimshaw’s cup. “Most block sales and yard sales are done on the weekends, but the Yard Sale is a shop that buys from estate sales and such and is open during the week. I could have been more help in selecting things if I had known the reason behind this shopping spree.”
“You helped?” He knew that, having just heard her say it. And there was no reason why she couldn’t have helped Osgood select the items. She wasn’t handling evidence or anything like that, but he was interested in why she had helped.
“I did.” Paige set the coffeepot on a hot pad. “Since the two of you are our only guests at the moment, Ineke is doing omelets for breakfast instead of putting out a buffet. Would you like anything in particular in your omelet?”
“Nothing exotic,” Grimshaw replied. “Otherwise, whatever Ms. Xavier has available.” When Paige didn’t show any sign of heading to the kitchen, he looked at Osgood and held out his hand for the box. “We need something to trade in order to recover a piece of evidence.”
“Citizens are supposed to surrender evidence,” Paige pointed out.
“True, but this citizen is one of the Crowgard—a juvenile female. I don’t think she’s much interested in surrendering anything that has caught her fancy.”
“Ah.” Paige flipped the lid off the box and barely avoided dunking a corner of the lid into Grimshaw’s coffee. As she rummaged, Grimshaw saw a couple of cuff bracelets that might shine with some polish, an engraved lighter, and a few gewgaws he would have to inspect more closely to figure out what they were. “Here.” She set a jingling object on the plate in front of him.
Grimshaw held it up to get a better look. The silver charms on the bracelet were all musical instruments—harp, piano, violin, trumpet, guitar, drum, saxophone. They jingled when he moved his hand, and they shone when they caught the light. “Perfect.”
Paige gave Osgood a mischievous smile. “See? I told you it was a good choice.” She took the plate and left the dining room, presumably to tell Ineke that the guests were ready for breakfast.
Grimshaw tucked the charm bracelet into his shirt pocket, put the lid back on the box, picked up his coffee . . . and waited.
“When I was picked for the initial assignment, Detective Swinn said to pack an overnight bag,” Osgood said. “His team drove up in the two cars, so I didn’t have a vehicle to drive over to the communities around Crystal Lake to look for the things you wanted. Miss Paige said she was going to the Yard Sale—I guess one of the Xaviers does that once a week to look for things that might be useful in the boardinghouse or to sell on to someone else—and said I could go with her. She even made the extra trip to Putney so that I could pick up more clothes and my own car, in case you needed me to run another errand. But I didn’t talk about the case.”
Grimshaw was certain the baby cop believed that. He was equally certain Paige Xavier, like the other women in her family, was an expert at extracting information without seeming to do anything at all.
Paige returned and set the plates in front of them. Omelets and toast, and a small bowl of sliced seasonal fruit. She topped off Grimshaw’s coffee, then left the room.
“No prunes?” Not that he minded; he was just curious and wanted to verify the potential of Osgood as a gossip magnet.
“Maxwell has a tender tummy after the episode yesterday, so Ms. Ineke didn’t want to tempt him.” Osgood bit into a strawberry. “I’d rather have the fresh stuff.” He focused on eating for a minute. “Detective Swinn and Detective Reynolds are gone, but I think they’re coming back.”
Not a surprise. “I’m going to The Jumble to retrieve that piece of evidence. I want you to patrol Main Street and then man the phones at the office. Pay attention to anything being said about the bank—if it’s going to close for good or will reopen under a new owner.”
“Like the Sanguinati?” Osgood asked.
Grimshaw nodded. “Don’t push for information; just pay attention to what the people around you are saying.” He finished his breakfast and pushed away from the table. “I shouldn’t be long, but I’ll call in if I have to stop anywhere else.”
“Yes, sir.”
Grimshaw tapped the top of the shoe box. “Take that to the station and tuck it in an empty drawer. You never know when we’ll need another shiny bribe.”
* * *
? ? ?
Getting out of the cruiser, Grimshaw touched the medal of Mikhos under his shirt before he unhooked the chain across The Jumble’s access road and lowered it to the ground. He didn’t see anything, not even a sparrow or chipmunk, but he could feel the terra indigene watching him as he drove his car past the boundary and stopped to hook up the chain, cutting off his chance of a fast escape. He hoped the Others would understand the action to mean he had nothing to fear from them because he offered no threat to Vicki DeVine or any other resident of The Jumble. Whether they understood or not, nothing prevented him from reaching the main house—but something had warned Vicki that she was about to have a visitor because she opened the front door and stepped outside before he had time to get out of the car.
“Ms. DeVine.”
“Officer Grimshaw.”
Aggie rushed up wearing a mesh beach cover-up and nothing else. She latched onto one of Vicki’s hands. Grimshaw wasn’t sure who was supposed to be protecting whom.
“Why is he here? What does he want?” Aggie asked. “Should I call Cougar?”
“If you think he could help with this problem,” Grimshaw replied. He’d skimmed a couple of cop and crime stories last evening, as well as reading a piece of the novel by Alan Wolfgard. He considered himself a good cop, a man who believed in the code of “serve and protect.” But he’d realized last night that it would take more than being a good cop if he wanted to deal with some of the Others. He had to present himself as the kind of cop they would recognize as good. Trouble was, if he started representing himself as a persona rather than the person he was, at some point he would slip up, and he didn’t think the Others ever forgave or forgot deceit.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t adapt a few things from the books and TV shows Vicki and Aggie might use as reference for dealing with the police during this investigation.
“You want to talk to Cougar?” Vicki asked.
Of course not. No one in his right mind wanted to talk to one of the Panthergard—or the Beargard, for that matter. Or the Sanguinati.
“If you think he could help.” Grimshaw pushed his hat back, a look that conveyed country friendliness. Sometimes people in the wild country needed help, and looking as official as possible made them feel easy. Sometimes looking a little more friendly made it easier for them to trust the man as well as the uniform.
“I guess it depends on the problem,” Vicki said.
“A piece of evidence wasn’t collected the other day when Detective Swinn’s team caused a fuss here while you were helping the police with their inquiries.”