here."
"Maybe. But he's the first we made chief of police." She was still a little steamed he'd given her son a ticket the week before. Like twenty-five dollars grew on trees. "Man's hiding something."
"God's sake, Sarrie. Do you know anybody around here who isn't?"
"I don't care who's hiding what, unless he's got the authority to put me and mine in jail."
Impatient now, Deb jabbed keys on her cash register. "Unless you're planning on walking out of here without paying for that gum, you're not breaking any laws. So I wouldn't worry about it."
THE MAN UNDER DISCUSSION was still sitting at his desk. But now he'd been cornered. For two weeks, he'd managed to evade, sidestep or outrun Max Hawbaker. He didn't want to be interviewed. As far as Nate was concerned, the press was the press, whether it was a smalltown weekly or The Baltimore Sun.
Maybe the citizens of Lunacy didn't mind their names in the paper, whatever the reason, but he'd yet to wash the bad taste out of his mouth that had coated it during his experience with reporters after the shootings.
And he'd known he'd have to swallow more when Hopp had marched into his office with Max at her side.
"Max needs an interview. The town needs to know something about the man we've got heading up our law and order. The Lunatic goes to press this time, I want this story in there. So . . . get to it."
She marched right out again, closing the door smartly behind her.
Max smiled gamely. "Ran into the mayor on my way over to see if you had a few minutes now to talk to me."
"Uh-huh." Since he'd been debating whiling away some time with computer solitaire or taking Peter up on his offer to give him another snowshoeing lesson, Nate couldn't claim not to have the time.
He'd pegged Max as an eager nerd, the sort that had spent most of his high school days being given wedgies. He had a round, pleasant face with light brown hair receding over it. He was carrying about ten extra pounds on a five-ten frame, most of it in the belly.
"Coffee?"
"Don't mind if I do."
Nate got up, poured two cups. "What do you take in it?"
"Couple of those creamers, couple of those sugars. Um, what do you think of our new feature? The police log?"
"It's all new to me. You've got the facts down. Seems thorough."
"Carrie really wanted to include it. I'm going to record this, if that's okay. I'll be taking notes, but I like to have a record."
"Fine." He doctored Max's coffee, brought it over. "What do you want to know?"
Settling in, Max took a small tape recorder out of his canvas sack. He set it on the desk, noted the time, turned it on. Then drew a pad and pencil out of his pocket. "I think our readers would like to know something about the man behind the badge."
"Sounds like a movie title. Sorry," he said when Max's brow creased. "There's not that much to know."
"Let's start with the basics. You mind giving me your age?"
"Thirty-two."
"And you were a detective with the Baltimore PD?"
"That's right."
"Married?"
"Divorced."
"Happens to the best of us. Kids?"
"No."
"Baltimore your hometown?"
"All my life, except these past couple weeks."
"So, how does a detective from Baltimore end up chief of police in Lunacy, Alaska?"
"I got hired."
Max's face stayed affable, his tone conversational. "Had to throw your hat into the ring to get hired."
"I wanted a change." A fresh start. A last chance.
"Some might consider this a pretty dramatic change."
"If you're going for something other than your usual, why not make it big? I liked the sound of the job, the place. Now I've got the opportunity to do the job I know, but in a different setting, with a different rhythm."
"We just talked about the police log. This can't be anything like what you used to deal with. You're not concerned about being bored? Coming from the pace and action of a big city and into a community of less than seven hundred?"
Careful, Nate thought. Hadn't he just been sitting here, bored? Or depressed? It was hard to
"Maybe. But he's the first we made chief of police." She was still a little steamed he'd given her son a ticket the week before. Like twenty-five dollars grew on trees. "Man's hiding something."
"God's sake, Sarrie. Do you know anybody around here who isn't?"
"I don't care who's hiding what, unless he's got the authority to put me and mine in jail."
Impatient now, Deb jabbed keys on her cash register. "Unless you're planning on walking out of here without paying for that gum, you're not breaking any laws. So I wouldn't worry about it."
THE MAN UNDER DISCUSSION was still sitting at his desk. But now he'd been cornered. For two weeks, he'd managed to evade, sidestep or outrun Max Hawbaker. He didn't want to be interviewed. As far as Nate was concerned, the press was the press, whether it was a smalltown weekly or The Baltimore Sun.
Maybe the citizens of Lunacy didn't mind their names in the paper, whatever the reason, but he'd yet to wash the bad taste out of his mouth that had coated it during his experience with reporters after the shootings.
And he'd known he'd have to swallow more when Hopp had marched into his office with Max at her side.
"Max needs an interview. The town needs to know something about the man we've got heading up our law and order. The Lunatic goes to press this time, I want this story in there. So . . . get to it."
She marched right out again, closing the door smartly behind her.
Max smiled gamely. "Ran into the mayor on my way over to see if you had a few minutes now to talk to me."
"Uh-huh." Since he'd been debating whiling away some time with computer solitaire or taking Peter up on his offer to give him another snowshoeing lesson, Nate couldn't claim not to have the time.
He'd pegged Max as an eager nerd, the sort that had spent most of his high school days being given wedgies. He had a round, pleasant face with light brown hair receding over it. He was carrying about ten extra pounds on a five-ten frame, most of it in the belly.
"Coffee?"
"Don't mind if I do."
Nate got up, poured two cups. "What do you take in it?"
"Couple of those creamers, couple of those sugars. Um, what do you think of our new feature? The police log?"
"It's all new to me. You've got the facts down. Seems thorough."
"Carrie really wanted to include it. I'm going to record this, if that's okay. I'll be taking notes, but I like to have a record."
"Fine." He doctored Max's coffee, brought it over. "What do you want to know?"
Settling in, Max took a small tape recorder out of his canvas sack. He set it on the desk, noted the time, turned it on. Then drew a pad and pencil out of his pocket. "I think our readers would like to know something about the man behind the badge."
"Sounds like a movie title. Sorry," he said when Max's brow creased. "There's not that much to know."
"Let's start with the basics. You mind giving me your age?"
"Thirty-two."
"And you were a detective with the Baltimore PD?"
"That's right."
"Married?"
"Divorced."
"Happens to the best of us. Kids?"
"No."
"Baltimore your hometown?"
"All my life, except these past couple weeks."
"So, how does a detective from Baltimore end up chief of police in Lunacy, Alaska?"
"I got hired."
Max's face stayed affable, his tone conversational. "Had to throw your hat into the ring to get hired."
"I wanted a change." A fresh start. A last chance.
"Some might consider this a pretty dramatic change."
"If you're going for something other than your usual, why not make it big? I liked the sound of the job, the place. Now I've got the opportunity to do the job I know, but in a different setting, with a different rhythm."
"We just talked about the police log. This can't be anything like what you used to deal with. You're not concerned about being bored? Coming from the pace and action of a big city and into a community of less than seven hundred?"
Careful, Nate thought. Hadn't he just been sitting here, bored? Or depressed? It was hard to
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