The Summerland by T. L. Schaefer

The expression on Drebin’s face was priceless.
    “ What?” she laughed, amusement ripe in her eyes. “Do you think I’ve always sold overpriced crystals to tourists and stoners? Hardly. I was a paralegal in Vegas for ten years. I know how this works, and I’ve seen the other side of it a hundred times. That doesn’t mean I ever grew to like it. So check away Agent, you’ll find my credentials impeccable. Then maybe I can help you out here.”

 
    Chapter Nine
     
    Arden knew that the Sheriff’s Department, or any police agency for that matter, wasn’t supposed to divulge information to family members or the press, but this was getting ridiculous. She’d been cooling her heels in the waiting room for the last two hours, with nothing to show but a brief glimpse of the Sheriff as he’d walked next to an enormous black guy. After looking at the racial composition of this county, she seriously doubted he was on the Sheriff’s Department. Equal Opportunity did not even seem to be an issue here. Thinking about it, she guessed you had to have a black community in order to implement such a program.
    The squadroom was singularly uninspiring, and the lack of any police action whatsoever reinforced her impression that Mariposa was ordinarily a very quiet, almost dull town. She’d seen one teenager booked on reckless driving charges and a full-scale paper plane dogfight between two deputies who didn’t think anyone was looking. The robust, matronly secretary seemed to be the only one who kept busy, and her constant stream of visitors and telephone calls defined her as the person who really ran the office, badge or no. At the end of those two hours, Arden probably knew more about the state of affairs in Mariposa than the local paper.
    It was amusing simply because the woman never even opened her mouth except to say hello. In the tradition of a good barkeep or psychiatrist, she just listened. Arden could tell, with her trained reporter’s eye that each bit of information was filed away for later use.
    After awhile, even Gail’s indisputable rule of the town became old hat. Pushing away the aimless thoughts churning through her head, distracting her from what was really bothering her, Arden faced the stressor she’d been trying so hard to avoid. Her patience level had never been particularly high, and the only thing holding it in check right now was her steadfast insistence in maintaining a professional image. After all, she was an officer in the United States Air Force, and she took pride in that appointment. She would do nothing impulsive to fracture that honor.
    She had to laugh a little at herself. She was and always had been one of those goofy patriots, hence her enlistment in the military. She’d never lost that urge to holler in joy as the last strains of the National Anthem played, and she still got a tear in her eye whenever she heard Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA.” She was hopelessly old-fashioned.
    Just sitting there doing nothing was making her butt sore, so she decided to take a short walk to stretch her legs and kill some time. The roiling heat outside the double glass doors hit her like a blast furnace. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed her office, asking for her supervisor, Major Allen. She apprised him of the situation, letting him know she would be taking the two weeks of emergency leave they had discussed, then asked for one favor. Five minutes later she was assured her private laptop would be secured from her home and Fed Ex’d to her by noon tomorrow. With that matter taken care of she rounded the corner just in time to see the Sheriff and his protégé climb into a Sheriff’s Department Blazer. Shit. There was no way she could catch them.
    Stymied by a lack of options and goaded by a growling stomach, she decided her best course of action would be to get some food, preferably the hot, greasy comfort food which could only be found in the town’s most disreputable diner. Fortunately,