at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You should distrust everyone.”
“Including you?” I asked.
He nodded, face solemn. “Everyone, Anita. Distrust them all.”
“Well, that’s a grim way of going through life,” Kaitlin said.
Olaf gazed down at her. “It is the truth.”
She shivered as she looked up at him, as if at some level she’d seen something to make her afraid. Good. Even though she wasn’t his type, I didn’t really want any women too close to Olaf. His idea of fun was just too frightening.
“I think there are people you can trust,” Kaitlin said, but she looked away from him as she spoke.
“And that is why you dated Deputy Rico when you knew better,” he said.
“I guess so, but no regrets. It was totally worth it.”
“Why?” Newman asked.
Kaitlin grinned. “The sex was great.”
That made me laugh out loud. Newman frowned, looking angry, and Olaf just looked neutral. Ordinary sex really didn’t move him much.
“Great but not great enough,” I said, still laughing.
“The sex was like the dating,” Kaitlin said. “He had a few great moves that swept you off your feet, but once you’d seen all the tricks, he didn’t have anything to back it up.”
“A lot of serial daters are like that,” I said.
“Serial daters—what are those?” Newman asked.
“It’s like serial monogamy, except you don’t marry them.”
“I’ve never heard of serial monogamy either,” he said.
I think it surprised us all when Olaf answered, “The ones who marry and divorce repeatedly.”
“Yeah,” I said, surprised he knew the term or cared enough to define it out loud.
“And shit like that is why I’ve never been married,” Kaitlin said. Her phone pinged, and she checked the text. “Livingston texted that he’s got us a table.”
“I’m surprised he’s the one saving the table,” Newman said.
“You mean instead of sending me,” she said, smiling.
“I didn’t mean just you, Kaitlin. There are plenty of other state cops in town. Captain Livingston has a lot of lesser rank to send on errands right now.”
“Livingston and the owner are good friends. If he’d sent anyone else in to get a table for this many people during their breakfast rush, we’d be lucky to get seated by lunch.”
“I take it this is Sugar Creek,” I said.
“Best breakfast in three counties,” Kaitlin said.
“I wonder if the waitress that’s dating the handyman at the Marchand place is working today,” I said.
“You thinking of doing a little police work over breakfast?” Newman asked.
“I was thinking about it,” I said.
Kaitlin took a deep breath of the air for effect and said, “I smell clues.”
“I didn’t think about Hazel Phillips being there this morning. I was just thinking about bacon,” Newman said.
“And that is why you called Anita to help you,” Olaf said.
“Would you have thought to question the waitress?” Newman asked.
“That’s not fair. He doesn’t know about her dating the man of all jobs at the Marchand home,” I said.
“That is true, but it doesn’t matter,” Olaf said. “I would not have questioned her anyway.”
“Why not? You just implied that you think it’s a good idea,” Newman said.
“I would have already completed the warrant of execution.”
“So no reason to question anyone,” I said.
Olaf nodded.
Newman looked at me. “Told you.”
“Told her what?” Kaitlin asked.
“If Newman had passed on the warrant, it turns out that Otto here was the next closest marshal.”
“Oh,” Kaitlin said, and looked up at the big man, then back at Newman, and then finally at me. She smiled and put her arm through mine as if we were friends. “Well, then, you would be missing the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”
“Pancakes, huh?” I said, letting her keep my arm, because women get weird about it when they try to be all huggy-feely and you don’t want to be.
“Please tell me you’re not one of those people that doesn’t eat carbs,” Kaitlin said, damn near hugging me.
“I eat carbs.”
“Great. Pancakes for everyone!”
“I do not like pancakes,” Olaf said from behind us as Kaitlin moved us to the door.
She called back, “Then you can have waffles.”
“I do not like them either,” he said, but he was following us out the door.
“What do you like for breakfast?” she asked.
I resisted saying, “The blood of his enemies,” because it wasn’t true. That was Edward’s style and mine. Olaf was much more a blood-of-the-innocents kind of guy.
31
SUGAR CREEK RESTAURANT and Bakery was so crowded that the sound of the customers made white noise like crowds at a sporting event or a concert. The waitress at the podium in front said, “We’re at a two-hour wait and longer