Fuller planted his feet apart, his arms crossed on his chest and glared at me.
I pressed my lips together.
Samuel did not. “Are you not participating in the inspection?” he asked Fuller.
“I’m the Chief of Police,” Fuller answered.
Samuel didn’t miss a beat. “Is it protocol for the Chief of Police to attend a random inspection such as this?”
Fuller’s face twisted as he replied, “It’s protocol for the Chief of Police to do whatever he wants, includin’ makin’ sure this shit ain’t no farce,” he paused and his eyes moved, I followed them and saw he was looking at Gifford. “Seein’ that it’s all in the family,” he concluded, his point not even slightly vague.
“Right,” Samuel whispered, his anger not even slightly hidden. Then he asked, “Can I have your name?”
“What?” Fuller bit out.
“Can I…” Samuel paused, “have…” another pause… “your name?”
Fuller rocked back on his heels on a stubborn, good ole boy, “Nope.”
“Arnold Fuller,” Deke piped in and I swallowed back a hysterical giggle.
“Thank you,” Samuel said to Deke then his hand came to my waist lightly and he murmured, “Lexie, why don’t you come back, finish your soda. Okay?”
I looked up to him, nodded then moved back to the island.
Then I sipped my soda as men moved about my house inspecting things.
Five minutes later, I watched Keaton come down the stairs, round the railing and stop five feet from the island.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Walker, but there’s a safe upstairs I’ll need you to open.”
I nodded, put my drink down and moved. Samuel started to move with me, I stopped and said softly, “It’s okay, Samuel. Ty has nothing to hide.”
He gave me a close look, nodded and settled back on his stool.
I led Detective Keaton back up to the safe, trying hard not to feel creeped out that this man was in our bedroom and in our closet and hoping he didn’t paw through my underwear drawer.
I knelt down in front of the safe and opened it for him, getting back to my feet and stepping out of his way. He crouched in front of it and reached in.
Then, I didn’t know why, but I spoke.
“Detective Keaton,” I called, his head tipped back and his not at all unattractive blue eyes locked on mine. And when they did, I knew why I spoke.
Because his eyes were haunted.
“I…” I started on a whisper then softly went on, “suspect you know that Misty wasn’t my favorite person.” His eyes flashed then shuttered and I hurried on. “But even so, I’m sorry. It was a shock to hear what happened to her. She didn’t deserve that. No one does. I met her once and she…” I trailed off then forged on, “I’m sorry, really, really sorry for your loss.”
He stared at me.
Then his neck bent and I pulled in breath wishing I kept my mouth shut.
I was about to leave him to it when he pulled out one of my jewelry boxes and asked, “You work at the salon?”
“I, uh… yes. I work at the salon.”
I watched him open the cardboard box, pull out the jewelry box in it and flip it open then he fingered my earrings.
Then he said in a voice so soft, I could convince myself I didn’t hear it, “Then I suspect you know that my wife was not my favorite person either.”
Oh my God.
I held my breath.
He flipped my earrings closed, replaced them in the box, put the lid on and placed it back in the safe, pulling out another one, going through the same motions as with my earrings, unveiling my necklace and as he inspected my necklace he went on in that same super quiet voice.
“But even so, I’m sorry that happened to her.” Pause then even quieter, “She didn’t deserve that.”
He stared at my necklace, his thumb moving over the diamonds in an absentminded way that I knew he wasn’t even seeing them.
“Are you…” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
“Walker always took care of his women,” he murmured instead of answering, still thumbing my necklace and I held my breath again. Then I jumped when he snapped the lid closed. “Good that he finally has one who deserves it.”
I stared, stunned silent and immobile while he replaced the box and shut the door to the safe. Then he stood, taller than me, my head tipped back and he moved so he was in the closet door. He looked across our bedroom to the staircase then he looked back at me.
Then he said in that super quiet voice, “Shit will go down, Lexie, it’s gotten ugly and it’s gonna get uglier. But do not be alarmed. Frank and I will take care of you and Walker.”
I blinked, now stunned silent, immobile and thinking I might be in the throes of a coronary but he said no more, moved through the bedroom and at the top of the stairs he shouted, “Got nothin’.”
“All good here, too.” I heard Frank shout back as Keaton jogged down the stairs.
Then I ran after him.
I hit the downstairs after Keaton and Frank did, rounded the railing and stopped dead.
And I did this because Tate, Laurie, Bubba, Krystal and Jim-Billy were all in our kitchen. I was so absorbed in what was happening in the closet, I didn’t hear them come in.
Jim-Billy pulled his head out of my fridge, looked at me, gave me a broken smile and said in a way like he was reminding me of something I knew but, of course, I didn’t, “Thanks for the invite, girl. Like any time I can get my beer without payin’ for it.”
“Right, like you pay your tab,” Krystal muttered loudly, crossing her arms on her ample bosom and rolling her eyes to the ceiling.
Jim-Billy closed the door on the fridge (with a beer in his hand, incidentally), and turned to Krystal.
“I do,” he said.
“Yeah, once a year,” she shot back.
“Well, I still do,” Jim-Billy returned.
“And you expect a discount,” she retorted.
“Anyone would, seein’ as I order in bulk.”
I giggled.
“We’re done here, Mrs. Walker,” Gifford called to me, Officer Frank and Keaton were already standing with him at the backdoor. “We appreciate your cooperation.”
“Lexie,” I told him, moving toward the kitchen.
“You are not f**kin’ done,” Fuller snapped and I stopped moving.
Gifford looked to him and asked, “Your boys said all’s good and I didn’t find anything.”