Skating Under the Wire: A Mystery (Rebecca Robbins Mysteries) by Joelle Charbonneau Page B

saying hello and let myself in through the side door. The smell of coffee made my body quiver with happiness. I poured myself a cup from the pot sitting on the warmer, added two spoonfuls of sugar, and sighed as I took my first sip. Pop’s culinary talents weren’t much to speak of, but his coffee was legendary.
    Fortified with caffeine, I rifled through the fridge for something edible. Not an easy task. Aside from a carton of eggs, milk, and a few stray veggies, the fridge was empty. When I first moved back to Indian Falls, the refrigerator was always stocked. Of course, that was before my father moved in and started mooching Pop’s groceries. To make sure he didn’t starve, Pop hid a small fridge in the garage and packed it with the good stuff he didn’t want my father to know about. Unfortunately, unless I wanted to risk hearing loss or make a run to the store, I’d have to make do with what was here.
    Ten minutes later, I was sitting down at the red Formica table with my investigator notebook, a pepper and onion omelet, and my third cup of coffee.
    “Does something ever smell good in here.”
    Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and my father stepped into view. With his perfectly pressed charcoal pants, off-white cable-knit sweater, and slightly graying auburn hair, my father looked both handsome and reliable. Proof that looks can be deceiving.
    His deep blue eyes sparkled with happiness. “Hi, honey. What a wonderful surprise. Your grandfather didn’t mention you were dropping by today, otherwise I would have cleared my afternoon. We haven’t spent much time together lately.”
    Part of me wanted to point out that spending time together had never been a priority for Stan. In fact, since he’d blown back into town seven weeks ago, we’d spent more time together by accident than we had for the dozen years prior. The other part … well, Ginny’s death and talking to Joey Schaffer about losing his father had me swallowing down my retort with a mouthful of eggs. Though I might not be thrilled with Stan’s parenting, or lack thereof, he was the only parent I had left. The logical part of my brain told me I’d probably wake up tomorrow and find him packed and gone, but my heart desperately wanted him to care enough to stay.
    Was it any wonder I had commitment issues?
    Stan poured himself a cup of coffee to the muted sounds of “Battle Hymn of the Republic” and slid into the seat across from me. “Everyone’s talking about your new business.”
    “This is just a one-shot deal,” I said, ignoring the way my father was eyeing my lunch. “Mrs. Johnson asked me to do her a favor, and I didn’t know how to say no.”
    “I wouldn’t be surprised if lots of other folks start asking for similar favors. You’ve made a name for yourself in this town. Now’s the time to capitalize on it.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair as I put the last bite of omelet into my mouth. “Catching criminals is an exciting sideline. If I hadn’t already started my own company, I’d be asking for a cut of the action.”
    I waited for a particularly loud drum solo to end before saying, “Lionel mentioned you wanted to use his farm for photographs.”
    Stan nodded. “The barn has good lighting. Shots of models sitting on hay bales or grooming some of the horses will look good on composite cards. I want all my models to be strong examples of healthy living to snag those AARP commercials.”
    He sounded confident and knowledgeable. It was easy to see how he convinced the senior population of Indian Falls that they were going to be the next big thing. Stan was an excellent salesperson, but I knew him far too well to buy what he was selling. “You know companies like AARP use established talent agencies in New York and Los Angeles. They aren’t going to book models from an agency no one’s heard of.”
    “That’s why I’m starting small.” He got up and poured the last of the coffee into his mug. “I’m tapping the