A Killing in the Hills - By Julia Keller Page 0,50

anybody else. He knew who owed what to whom and why; he knew whose wife had been stepping out with whose husband and for how long. He knew the contents of prescriptions picked up at the Walgreens pharmacy. He knew the way that a great many customers at Ike’s Diner – the last non-chain eatery left standing in town, although the metaphorical vultures always seemed to be massing on the rooftop with the opening of each new Burger King and Subway out on the interstate – liked their eggs.

Did Hick Leonard resent Bell for ending up in the office he’d sought? She wasn’t sure. And frankly, she didn’t much care. You didn’t have to love your boss to do a good job. You only had to agree with her priorities. And Hick, like her, seemed to want to rid these parts of the drug dealers who had moved in with such ruthless and alarming speed. He, too, seemed to bounce between deep sorrow and blistering anger when he looked at the wrecked lives left in the wake of the drugs.

Hick’s only misstep so far had been his passionate recommendation of Rhonda Lovejoy for the second assistant’s spot. Rhonda was a disaster. She was chronically late, hopelessly scatterbrained, and terminally disorganized. Bell didn’t know why Hick had pushed so hard for her hiring – did he owe somebody a favor? – and didn’t care. The moment she had time to deal with it, Bell intended to tell Rhonda that she’d need to find other employment.

‘Thanks, Hick. Appreciate the update.’

She was about to click END CALL, but sensed that Hick had something else to say. Bell could imagine his big round face – the Leonards all had big faces to begin with, but Hick enhanced the genetics with a fanatical affection for pulled pork sandwiches and French toast – and the beseeching expression he adopted when he wanted to say something but was afraid to. His eyes had a tendency to bug out. His chin might quiver. Hick’s face could sometimes look like an oversensitive pie plate.

So she paused. She’d give him a couple of seconds to speak his mind. Then she had to go.

‘You know what, Bell?’

She waited.

‘Well, I just wanted to say – I mean—’ Hick took a deep breath, blew it out. The column of expelled air made a rasping sound in Bell’s ear. Clearly, the man didn’t realize how a cell phone mediated certain sounds, making them a painful auditory experience for the person on the other end of the line.

‘What is it, Hick? Kind of a busy day here, you know?’

‘I know, I know.’ Another pause, and then his words came out in a tumble: ‘Shit, Bell, I gotta say this. Okay? You’re gonna hate this but I gotta say it.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘Well, it’s just that – well, listen. You know how much I admire you, right? And the stand you and Fogelsong have taken against illegal pharmaceuticals and the bastards who sell ’em around here – it’s heroic, really. Nothing short of heroic.’

‘Heroic. Got it.’

‘No, listen. I’m serious here. I’m in awe, Bell. Lots of us are. But – believe me, this isn’t a criticism. Not at all. But the shootings yesterday – they’ve got us all pretty upset, Bell. Pretty scared. This is serious shit going down. Somebody is maybe trying to make a point.’

‘Could be. So?’

‘The “so,” Bell,’ he said, a little irked at what seemed like snippiness on her part, ‘is that maybe yesterday was a warning. Somebody is telling us – telling us pretty damn clearly – to back off. And maybe we ought to pay attention. Maybe we ought to just lay off on all the heavy talk about stopping the pill traffic. Just for a while. Till things settle out. Hell, we’ve got plenty else to worry about. You know that better’n anybody. Maybe we could just dial back on the chatter about busting up the drug rings. Just for a bit. I’m thinking about our safety here, Bell. Our well-being. All of us. Including you and that girl of yours.’

Silence.

Finally, in a tentative voice, Hick said, ‘You still there?’

‘I’m here.’

‘Hope you’re not mad. Just had to say it.’

Silence.

‘Bell?’

‘Couple of things here, Hick, for you to get straight.’ Her voice began its journey with ominous calm. ‘First of all, don’t you ever – ever – bring up my daughter in this kind of conversation. You hear me? Never. You will never do that again. My family is my own business.’