to dip into my pocket of tricks to get Goetz to do what I wanted. After all, somewhere down the road, I would be forgiven for being a conniving she-devil . . . if I repented. The hard part for me was being truly sorry for my sins, as I firmly believed I had been sinned against more often than not.
“What do you want?” growled Detective Goetz.
Standing in the doorway of his office, I cooed, “Now, don’t be that way. You know you’re glad to see me. I don’t know why you act like you hate me when we both know you don’t. I wanted to check on you after the tornado.” I strode into the office and plopped down in the chair opposite his desk. “Say you’re sorry for being so rude.”
Goetz rubbed his hound dog face. “You’re right. I was rude.”
I smiled my brightest smile.
“Now, what do you want?”
My smile dimmed. “Do I have to want anything? Can’t I just stop by and see an old friend? A friend whom I have helped solve his cases. Remember how I broke my leg?”
“It was a stress fracture. Not broken at all.”
“And almost got my head caved in with a shovel,” I continued.
“I would like to have a dollar for every time I have gotten your butt out of trouble.”
“I wish I had a dime for every time I got your butt out of trouble.”
“Did you bring me something to eat?”
“Is this what the grouchiness is all about? A bribe?”
“You betcha.”
“You know I rarely cook any more.”
“Then I can’t help you. Goodbye, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“I said I rarely cook anymore. But there just happens to be a fresh chess pie in my car.”
Goetz stood, grabbing his coat. “Let’s go. Time’s a-wastin’.”
It was all I could do to keep up with him rushing out of the police building.
17
“W here’s your hearing aid?” asked Goetz in between bites of the chess pie. It was a good thing I had brought paper plates and forks.
We were sitting in my car parked on a side street.
“I got a new one,” I replied, lifting my hair. “See, you can hardly tell I have one. It’s nude and tiny. Fits right into the ear.”
“No GPS anymore?”
“I know you all thought that was pretty funny keeping tabs on me, but it was a real invasion of privacy.”
“I seem to remember that it saved your life . . . that little GPS device.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, suddenly remembering Jake. I didn’t want to think about him.
“You didn’t make this pie, did you?” accused Goetz, tired of talking about the hearing aid.
Damn! I was caught. “How can you tell?”
“Cooking is just like fingerprints. Everyone has his or her own signature. The crust is different from other pies of yours.”
“I paid Miss Eunice twenty dollars to make it,” I confessed. “I don’t enjoy cooking anymore. Takes too much out of me.”
Goetz put down his fork and scrutinized me. “Are you depressed or something?”
“I don’t know what it is. I’ve just got the blahs. I need to stick my nose into something interesting. Everything has been too calm lately.”
“So you are seeking a solution to a mystery that does not exist.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“There is a name for people like you. Adrenaline junkies. You need a rush of excitement juice.”
“I do my exercises, go to doctor appointments and then the rest of the day is free. Miss Eunice, who is practically perfect in almost every way, oversees the house and the business. I just run errands now and then. Everything on the farm is caught up. Charles handles the employees for me . . . so there is really nothing for me to do but get into other people’s business. I feel . . . useless.” My eyes teared up.
“Is the irrepressible Josiah Reynolds gonna cry?”
I started to bawl my eyes out for real. Goetz could be such a hard-ass when he wanted to be.
“Hey, is this for real? Come on now. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I sobbed out loud.
“Stop it, Josiah. You don’t know how lucky you are. You should be
“What do you want?” growled Detective Goetz.
Standing in the doorway of his office, I cooed, “Now, don’t be that way. You know you’re glad to see me. I don’t know why you act like you hate me when we both know you don’t. I wanted to check on you after the tornado.” I strode into the office and plopped down in the chair opposite his desk. “Say you’re sorry for being so rude.”
Goetz rubbed his hound dog face. “You’re right. I was rude.”
I smiled my brightest smile.
“Now, what do you want?”
My smile dimmed. “Do I have to want anything? Can’t I just stop by and see an old friend? A friend whom I have helped solve his cases. Remember how I broke my leg?”
“It was a stress fracture. Not broken at all.”
“And almost got my head caved in with a shovel,” I continued.
“I would like to have a dollar for every time I have gotten your butt out of trouble.”
“I wish I had a dime for every time I got your butt out of trouble.”
“Did you bring me something to eat?”
“Is this what the grouchiness is all about? A bribe?”
“You betcha.”
“You know I rarely cook any more.”
“Then I can’t help you. Goodbye, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“I said I rarely cook anymore. But there just happens to be a fresh chess pie in my car.”
Goetz stood, grabbing his coat. “Let’s go. Time’s a-wastin’.”
It was all I could do to keep up with him rushing out of the police building.
17
“W here’s your hearing aid?” asked Goetz in between bites of the chess pie. It was a good thing I had brought paper plates and forks.
We were sitting in my car parked on a side street.
“I got a new one,” I replied, lifting my hair. “See, you can hardly tell I have one. It’s nude and tiny. Fits right into the ear.”
“No GPS anymore?”
“I know you all thought that was pretty funny keeping tabs on me, but it was a real invasion of privacy.”
“I seem to remember that it saved your life . . . that little GPS device.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, suddenly remembering Jake. I didn’t want to think about him.
“You didn’t make this pie, did you?” accused Goetz, tired of talking about the hearing aid.
Damn! I was caught. “How can you tell?”
“Cooking is just like fingerprints. Everyone has his or her own signature. The crust is different from other pies of yours.”
“I paid Miss Eunice twenty dollars to make it,” I confessed. “I don’t enjoy cooking anymore. Takes too much out of me.”
Goetz put down his fork and scrutinized me. “Are you depressed or something?”
“I don’t know what it is. I’ve just got the blahs. I need to stick my nose into something interesting. Everything has been too calm lately.”
“So you are seeking a solution to a mystery that does not exist.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“There is a name for people like you. Adrenaline junkies. You need a rush of excitement juice.”
“I do my exercises, go to doctor appointments and then the rest of the day is free. Miss Eunice, who is practically perfect in almost every way, oversees the house and the business. I just run errands now and then. Everything on the farm is caught up. Charles handles the employees for me . . . so there is really nothing for me to do but get into other people’s business. I feel . . . useless.” My eyes teared up.
“Is the irrepressible Josiah Reynolds gonna cry?”
I started to bawl my eyes out for real. Goetz could be such a hard-ass when he wanted to be.
“Hey, is this for real? Come on now. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I sobbed out loud.
“Stop it, Josiah. You don’t know how lucky you are. You should be
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