Page 6 of Shadow Dance (Buchanan-Renard 6)

  “As to my research…I have three large boxes. I’ve spoken at length with Isabel, and against my better judgment I have decided to let you take them to make photocopies for her. She has assured me that she takes full responsibility, and so I will rely on her integrity as a MacKenna. I’ll know if anything is missing. I have a photographic memory. Once I’ve read something, it stays with me.” He paused to tap his forehead. “I remember names and faces of people I met ten, twenty years ago. It’s stored up here. The important and the unimportant.”

  “How long do I have to make the copies?” she asked, wanting to move the conversation along.

  “I’ve been so busy getting ready for my trip. I’m leaving sooner than I originally planned. You’ll have to stay in Serenity and make your copies here. It shouldn’t take you more than two days at the most. Maybe three,” he allowed.

  “Is there a print shop in town with copy machines?”

  “I don’t believe so,” he replied. “But there’s a machine at the grocery store, and I’m sure there are others around town.”

  After two more cups of coffee, he requested the bill. As the time for their parting grew closer, every minute seemed to drag. When the check came, he pushed it toward her. At this point she wasn’t surprised.

  Her brother Zachary had always been able to gross her out. He was much better at it than any of her other brothers, but tonight the professor had usurped his title as the king of gross. Professor MacKenna wiped his mouth with his napkin, which had lain folded on the table throughout the meal, and scooted out of the booth.

  “I want to get home before it gets dark.”

  It wouldn’t be dark for at least another hour. “Do you live far from here?”

  “No,” he answered. “I’ll meet you at the car and transfer the boxes. You’ll take good care of them? Isabel spoke highly of you, and I’m trusting her.”

  “I’ll take good care of them,” she promised.

  Ten minutes later the bill had been paid, the boxes had been transferred to her car, and Jordan was, for the time being, rid of the professor.

  She felt liberated.

  JORDAN WAS UP BRIGHT AND EARLY THE FOLLOWING MORNING. She drove the car over to Lloyd’s Garage and was parked and waiting for him to open his doors.

  She hoped to get the car patched up, then drive to the grocery store she was told had a copy machine. If all went well, she could get one box finished and maybe half of another. Two of the boxes were filled to the top, and, fortunately, the professor hadn’t written on both sides of the paper because the pen he’d used on some of them had bled through.

  The garage doors opened ten minutes after eight. After popping the hood and looking at the engine for about thirty seconds, the mechanic, a brute of a man about her age, leaned against the fender, crossed one ankle over the other, and gave her a slow and definitely creepy once-over while he wiped his hands on an oily rag.

  He must have thought he’d missed something in his rude inspection because he gave her the once-over again, and then again. Honest to Pete, her car hadn’t gotten this much attention.

  She was going to have to put up with the jerk because he was the only mechanic in town until next Monday.

  “I’m pretty certain the radiator has a leak,” she said. “So what do you think? Can you patch it up?”

  The mechanic had his name, Lloyd, printed on a strip of masking tape and stuck to his shirt pocket. The edges were curling up. He turned away, tossed the dirty rag on a nearby rack, and then turned around again.

  “Can I patch it? Depends,” he drawled. “It’s egregious is what it is.”

  “It is?”

  “You know…salivient.”

  Lloyd obviously liked to use big words whenever possible, even when those words didn’t make sense. Salivient? Was that even a word?

  “But you can fix it?”

  “It’s almost beyond repair, sweetie.”

  Sweetie? I don’t think so. She silently counted to five in an attempt to keep her temper under control so she wouldn’t blow up. It wouldn’t do to alienate the man who could get her car running.

  Good old Lloyd had worked his way down to her feet and was on his way back up when he said, “What we have here is a serious situation.”

  “We do?” Determined to get along no matter how irritating the man was, she nodded. “You said it was almost beyond repair?”

  “That’s right. Almost.”

  She crossed her arms and waited for him to finish another trip down her legs and back. He should have them memorized by now. “Would you care to explain?”

  “Your radiator has a leak.”

  She felt like screaming. She’d already told him that.

  “I could probably repair it temporarily, but I can’t guarantee it would hold,” Lloyd continued.

  “How long will it take you to repair it?”

  “Depends on what I find under the hood.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, and when she didn’t immediately react, he added, “You know what I mean?”

  She knew exactly what he meant. Lloyd was a real degenerate. Her patience ended. “You’ve already looked under the hood,” she snapped.

  Her obvious anger didn’t appear to faze him. He must be used to rejection, she decided. Either that or he’d stood outside in the sun too long and had fried his brain.

  “Are you married, sweetie?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Married. Are you married? I need to know who to bill,” he explained.

  “Bill me.”

  “I’m just being hospitable. You don’t need to snap at me.”

  “How long will the repair take?”

  “A day…maybe two.”

  “Okay, then,” she said pleasantly. “I’ll be on my way.”

  He didn’t understand until she walked around him and opened the car door.

  “Wait a minute. You’re leaving with a leak…”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  He snorted. “You won’t get far.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  He thought she was bluffing until she started the engine and began to back out of the garage.

  “I could maybe fix it by noon,” he blurted.

  “Maybe?”

  “Okay, for sure by noon,” he agreed. “And I won’t charge you much.”

  She put the brakes on. “How much?”

  “Sixty-five, maybe seventy, but no more than eighty. I don’t take credit cards, and since you’re from out of town, I won’t take a check. You’ll have to give me cash.”

  Lured by the promise that she could have her car back by noon, she agreed, and handed the keys over to Lloyd.

  She walked back to the motel but stopped in the lobby to speak to Amelia Ann.

  “I have several boxes of papers I need to photocopy,” she said. “The grocery store near the Parson’s Creek bridge has a copier, but it’s quite a walk from here and I was wondering if there are any copy machines closer.”

  “Let me do some checking for you while you go have some breakfast. I think maybe I can find one for you.”

  The Home Away from Home Motel had a closet-sized coffee shop. Jordan was the only customer. She didn’t have much of an appetite and ordered toast and orange juice.

  Amelia Ann came looking for her. “I only had to make a couple of calls,” she said. “And you’re in luck. Charlene over at the Nelson Insurance Agency has a brand-spanking-new copy machine. The company put it in last week, and it’s on trial, so they don’t care how many papers you have to copy just as long as you pay for the paper you use. Steve Nelson carries the insurance on this motel, so he’s not going to mind doing a favor.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Jordan said. “Thank you so much.”

  “I don’t mind helping out when I can. Charlene said to tell you the machine has a feeder, so it will copy lickety-split.”

  The news just kept getting better. The insurance agency was only three short blocks away from the motel, and the copier was

in a room all by itself, so Jordan wouldn’t bother Charlene or her boss while she worked.

  The copy machine was an absolute dream, and she made quick progress. She was interrupted only once when a client of the agency, Kyle Heffermint, stopped by to get some figures. While Charlene was gathering them for him, he spotted Jordan in the copy room and took it upon himself to act as the welcoming committee for the town of Serenity. He leaned against the wall and chatted as Jordan continued to feed pages into the machine. Kyle was a pleasant man, and she enjoyed hearing all about the history and politics of the community, even though his habits of repeating her name and punctuating his comments by raising one eyebrow were a bit annoying. After she declined his fourth offer to “show her around,” Charlene came to the rescue and ushered him to the door.

  Jordan had copied two full boxes before noon. Staggering under the weight, she carried the first and the second box of originals back to her motel room and then returned for the copies. She stuffed some of the pages in her tote bag with her laptop so she could start reading while she had lunch.

  It was a quarter to twelve when she arrived at Lloyd’s Garage to find the coolant reservoir and most of the engine lined up on a tarp.

  Lloyd was sprawled out in a metal chair, fanning himself with a folded newspaper, but the second he spotted her in the doorway he tossed the paper aside and jumped to attention. He put his hands up as though to ward off a blow and blurted, “Now don’t get yourself in a roar.”

  The radiator hose was draped over the coolant reservoir in the center of the tarp. She stared at it while she casually asked, “What is all this?”

  “Parts…belongs inside your car. I ran into a few problems,” he continued. He couldn’t quite look her in the eye. “I was wanting to make sure it was a leak in the radiator and not something else, so I pulled the hose to check for a tear and there wasn’t any, and then I decided to check the clamp, and it was okay, and then I decided I might as well check a couple of other things too. And what do you know…the leak turned out to be in the radiator after all, just like I suspected. Better safe than sorry, don’t you think? And I’m not charging extra for the extra work. A thank-you will be fine. Oh, and one more thing,” he added in another rush. “I’ll get it fixed by tomorrow noon, like I promised.”

  She took a deep breath. “You promised it would be fixed by noon today.” She was so furious she’d been played, her voice shook.

  “No, you made an assumption.”

  “You promised noon today,” she repeated forcefully.

  “No, I never said today. That’s where the assumption part comes in. I just said noon. I didn’t say noon today or noon tomorrow.” And without pausing for breath, he asked, “Since you’re going to have to stay in town another night and don’t know a soul, how about having dinner with me?”

  Lloyd apparently lived in another dimension.

  “Put it all back. Put it all back now.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I want you to put everything back where it belongs. Do it now, please.”

  Lloyd must not have liked the look in her eyes because he took a hasty step back. “I can’t,” he said. “I’ve got another job to finish first.”

  “Really? Then you weren’t taking a nap when I walked in?”

  “I wasn’t napping. I was taking a break.”

  She knew it would be pointless to argue with him. “When will my car be ready?”

  “Noon tomorrow,” he said. “See what just happened here? I said noon tomorrow, so I can’t get out of it. Once I say something, it’s said.”

  She blinked. What in heaven’s name was that supposed to mean? Maybe she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Once you say something…”

  “It’s said,” he repeated with a nod. “And that means I can’t take it back.”

  “I would like you to put it in writing,” she said. “Guarantee the time the car will be ready and the price,” she added. “Then sign it.”

  “All right. I’ll do it,” he promised as he turned and went inside the shop. He came back out a minute later with a pad and a pen. He leaned against the car as he wrote and signed the guarantee. He even dated it without being asked.

  “Satisfied?” he asked after he’d given her the paper and she’d read it.

  She nodded. “I’ll be back here at noon tomorrow. Don’t disappoint me.”

  “What are you gonna do? Hurt me?”

  “I might.” She started to walk away.

  “Hold on now.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ve got to eat sometime. What about having dinner with me?”

  She attempted to be gracious as she declined his invitation. She even went so far as to thank him for inviting her. He seemed placated when she left him.

  Her steps slowed as she walked over to Jaffee’s Bistro. It was beastly hot. By the time she got there, she was dying from the heat and the humidity. How did the residents of Serenity stand it? The temperature on the thermometer outside the restaurant registered ninety-eight.

  Angela was carrying a plate to one of the tables when Jordan walked in.

  “Hey, Jordan.”

  “Hey, Angela.” Good Lord, now she was beginning to sound like a local. The realization made her smile.

  “You want your usual table? Let me just clear it for you.”

  The restaurant was nearly full, and all the customers watched her as she made her way to the corner table. They were obviously curious about outsiders.

  “Are you in a hurry, or can you do with iced tea for a little bit?”

  “I can wait, and tea would be great.”

  Angela brought the drink right away and then went back to helping the other customers while Jordan looked over the menu. When she had decided on a chicken salad, she put the menu down, opened her laptop and turned it on, and then spread out some of the research papers so she could start reading.

  She made notes while she read so she could check the professor’s research when she got back to Boston.

  “Your fingers are flying over those keys,” Angela said. “Am I interrupting your train of thought?”

  “No, you’re not,” she said, glancing up from the screen.

  “What were you doing?”

  “I had been making notes, but just now I was merging my calendar with a spreadsheet. Nothing important,” she added as she closed the laptop.

  “So you must know a lot about computers…you know, how they work and all.”

  “Yes,” she answered. “I work with computers.”

  “Jaffee’s got to meet you. He’s got a computer, but it won’t work right. Maybe you could answer a couple of questions for him after you have your lunch.”

  “I’d be happy to help,” she said.

  The restaurant had emptied by the time she finished her salad. Angela came out from the kitchen with the owner. She made the introductions, and Jordan complimented him on the restaurant.

  “It’s a charming place,” she said.

  “It’s named after me of course,” he told her with a grin. “My first name’s Vernon, but everyone likes to call me just plain Jaffee. I like it too,” he admitted. “Where are you from, Jordan Buchanan?” Jaffee had a wonderful twang in his voice, like a guitar string being plucked.

  “Boston,” she replied. “What about you? Did you grow up in Serenity, or are you a transplant like Angela?”

  “Transplant,” he replied, flashing a smile. “From another tiny town you’ve probably never heard of. I did a spell in San Antonio. That’s where I met my wife, Lily. She worked at the same restaurant, and you know…we kind of clicked. We’ve been married fourteen years, and we’re still clicking. What’s the weather like in Boston? Does it get as hot as it does here?”

  The conversation about the heat lasted a good ten minutes. Jordan didn’t know anyone, aside from a meteorologist, who was more interested in the weather than Jaffee.

  “Mind if I sit with you a spell?” he asked as he pulled out a chair across from h

er and sat down. “Angela said you wouldn’t mind answering some questions about computers.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” she said.

  “Did you like your salad? City girls always like salads, don’t they?”

  She laughed. “This city girl does.”

  Jaffee was such a nice man, and he was definitely in the mood to chat.

  “I had quite a crowd here for breakfast. Always do. I don’t have half that many for lunch. Truth is, I barely break even in the summer months, even serving dinner, but come fall I do a real nice business. My wife has to come in and help out then. My chocolate cake is famous around here. I expect folks will come dribbling in later this afternoon for a slice or two. Don’t you worry though. I already put back a slice for you.”

  She thought he was going to get up when he shifted in his chair. She reached for one of her folders so she could read another outrageous story about the saintly MacKennas and the demonic Buchanans.

  Jaffee wasn’t going anywhere. He was merely getting comfortable. “Chocolate cake is how I ended up owning this coffee shop.”

  She put the folder down and gave him her full attention. “How did that happen?”

  “Trumbo Motors,” he said. “Dave Trumbo to be exact. He owns a dealership in Bourbon, which is about forty miles from here. Anyway, Dave and his wife, Suzanne, were vacationing in San Antonio, and they had dinner in the restaurant where I was working. I’d made my chocolate cake, and boy oh boy, did he take to it. He had three slices before his wife made him stop.” He laughed then. “He’s got a real love for chocolate, but Suzanne won’t let him have it very often. She worries about his cholesterol and such. Anyway,” he continued, “Dave couldn’t get that cake out of his mind, and he sure didn’t want to have to drive all the way to San Antonio, which as you know is quite a trek from here. So what did he do? He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. First of all he told me about Serenity and how there wasn’t a good restaurant to speak of, and then he told me he went to his good friend Eli Whitaker. Eli’s a rich rancher who’s always looking for a good investment. Dave convinced him to give me start-up money. Eli owns this building, but I don’t have to pay rent until I start making a big enough profit. He’s what we call a silent partner. He rarely looks at the books, and some months when I get my bank statement, I see there’s been a deposit made into the account. He won’t own up to it, but I know he or maybe Trumbo is putting the extra money in.”