nonconformists.”
Now, there was an understatement. Folks of a certain age in this county still remembered her daddy. They mostly referred to him as that Yankee hippie.
“Is your last name Chaikin, too?”
She nodded. “Who runs the golf course these days?” she asked.
Stone hesitated. “That’s a complicated question. Elbert Rhodes holds the deed to the land, but there’s a committee that has taken over the rebuilding and expansion of the place. Hettie Marshall chairs that.”
Her bloodshot gaze wandered over his face and then down to the name badge on his chest. Her eyes widened a little. “Deputy Rhodes?” she said.
“That would be Chief Rhodes, ma’am.”
“And the ‘S’ is for…?”
He tried not to grimace. “Stonewall. Everyone calls me Stone—Stony if they know me well.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “And you thought I had a strange name? So, are you related to Zeke and this Elbert guy?”
He didn’t want this interview to get personal, but it was heading in that direction. It wasn’t as if he could lie. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I need to talk to Elbert.”
“About what?”
She closed her eyes, and the shivers took her for a long moment. Stone took off his uniform jacket and draped it over her legs.
He was about to shout for Annie when Lark said through chattering teeth, “My father wants to have his ashes scattered on the eighteenth hole. He died a week ago.”
Holy crap.
“I can tell that I’ve surprised you,” Lark said. The shivering seemed to be passing.
“Well, as a matter of fact, yes, ma’am, you have.”
Lark’s eyes flew open. “Look, I heard what you said, before. But my father didn’t murder Zeke Rhodes. Pop always said he ‘found himself’ on the eighteenth hole at Golfing for God, whatever the heck that means.”
“Really? That’s hardly evidence of his innocence, is it?”
She stared at him like he was an alien. “No, I guess not. But, to be honest, Pop never explained why he used to say that.”
“There you go. There is also the fact that your father left town suddenly on the same day as my granddaddy died.”
“Zeke Rhodes was your grandfather?”
* * *
The Last Chance chief of police stared down at Lark out of a pair of oddly familiar green eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled in a deep voice that sounded like it came right up from the earth itself.
“And you think my father murdered him?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. My granddaddy’s death was ruled an accident. But my daddy always said it was kind of hard to explain how a man gets that beat up by accident.”
She must be having a fever dream because the gorgeous policeman was saying stuff about Pop that made no sense whatsoever.
Just then, a thin, youngish nurse wearing blue scrubs and bearing a badge with the name “A. Jasper” bustled in. The nurse interrupted the mutual interrogation. “Ruby called,” she said to the cop. “She’s holding dinner for you. You need to be getting along home.”
“It’ll keep. I need to ask the patient a couple of—”
“Your questions can wait.” The nurse advanced with a digital thermometer, which she pressed into Lark’s ear. It beeped inside of thirty seconds.
“Uh-huh, you see? One hundred and three.” Nurse Jasper looked down at Lark. “You take any medicine?”
“A couple of aspirin about four hours ago, when the headache started.” Lark sank back into the pillows. Her head felt like an anvil. Every muscle screamed in agony if she so much as twitched, which was problematic because she was twitching all over with the shivers.
“All right,” Nurse Jasper said. “Let me go get Doc Cooper.”
“I’ll just stay here and ask a few—”
“I told you, Stony, the questions can wait. Now, you go on home to your girls.” Nurse Jasper’s voice knifed through Lark’s head and sent pinpricks of pain shooting behind her eyes.
The chief folded his big arms across his chest. He didn’t look very impressed with
Now, there was an understatement. Folks of a certain age in this county still remembered her daddy. They mostly referred to him as that Yankee hippie.
“Is your last name Chaikin, too?”
She nodded. “Who runs the golf course these days?” she asked.
Stone hesitated. “That’s a complicated question. Elbert Rhodes holds the deed to the land, but there’s a committee that has taken over the rebuilding and expansion of the place. Hettie Marshall chairs that.”
Her bloodshot gaze wandered over his face and then down to the name badge on his chest. Her eyes widened a little. “Deputy Rhodes?” she said.
“That would be Chief Rhodes, ma’am.”
“And the ‘S’ is for…?”
He tried not to grimace. “Stonewall. Everyone calls me Stone—Stony if they know me well.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “And you thought I had a strange name? So, are you related to Zeke and this Elbert guy?”
He didn’t want this interview to get personal, but it was heading in that direction. It wasn’t as if he could lie. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I need to talk to Elbert.”
“About what?”
She closed her eyes, and the shivers took her for a long moment. Stone took off his uniform jacket and draped it over her legs.
He was about to shout for Annie when Lark said through chattering teeth, “My father wants to have his ashes scattered on the eighteenth hole. He died a week ago.”
Holy crap.
“I can tell that I’ve surprised you,” Lark said. The shivering seemed to be passing.
“Well, as a matter of fact, yes, ma’am, you have.”
Lark’s eyes flew open. “Look, I heard what you said, before. But my father didn’t murder Zeke Rhodes. Pop always said he ‘found himself’ on the eighteenth hole at Golfing for God, whatever the heck that means.”
“Really? That’s hardly evidence of his innocence, is it?”
She stared at him like he was an alien. “No, I guess not. But, to be honest, Pop never explained why he used to say that.”
“There you go. There is also the fact that your father left town suddenly on the same day as my granddaddy died.”
“Zeke Rhodes was your grandfather?”
* * *
The Last Chance chief of police stared down at Lark out of a pair of oddly familiar green eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled in a deep voice that sounded like it came right up from the earth itself.
“And you think my father murdered him?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. My granddaddy’s death was ruled an accident. But my daddy always said it was kind of hard to explain how a man gets that beat up by accident.”
She must be having a fever dream because the gorgeous policeman was saying stuff about Pop that made no sense whatsoever.
Just then, a thin, youngish nurse wearing blue scrubs and bearing a badge with the name “A. Jasper” bustled in. The nurse interrupted the mutual interrogation. “Ruby called,” she said to the cop. “She’s holding dinner for you. You need to be getting along home.”
“It’ll keep. I need to ask the patient a couple of—”
“Your questions can wait.” The nurse advanced with a digital thermometer, which she pressed into Lark’s ear. It beeped inside of thirty seconds.
“Uh-huh, you see? One hundred and three.” Nurse Jasper looked down at Lark. “You take any medicine?”
“A couple of aspirin about four hours ago, when the headache started.” Lark sank back into the pillows. Her head felt like an anvil. Every muscle screamed in agony if she so much as twitched, which was problematic because she was twitching all over with the shivers.
“All right,” Nurse Jasper said. “Let me go get Doc Cooper.”
“I’ll just stay here and ask a few—”
“I told you, Stony, the questions can wait. Now, you go on home to your girls.” Nurse Jasper’s voice knifed through Lark’s head and sent pinpricks of pain shooting behind her eyes.
The chief folded his big arms across his chest. He didn’t look very impressed with
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