Free Long Time Gone by Meg Benjamin Page B

Konigsburg Merchants Association trying to avoid death by boredom. Technically, he had no business there since he wasn’t a merchant, but Arthur Craven, the association president, had asked him to come, and he’d thought it was a good idea at the time. “Chief Olema never came,” Craven explained, “and Chief Brody…” His ears turned slightly pink. Nobody in town wanted to say much about Brody. Now Erik sat in the back of the room and wondered if there was any way he could catch forty winks without being noticed while Hilton Pittman droned on for what seemed like eternity.
    Pittman was a problem. If he didn’t keep Pittman happy, the mayor would complain to the council and it would be a mark against him. So he had to make an effort. He was making one now, but it wasn’t easy, given what a jerk Pittman was. He’d always managed to avoid crap like this as a working cop. Now he was an administrator, and apparently he was supposed to be fascinated by Pittman’s latest version of the World According to Hilton.
    Instead, he looked out the window of the restaurant and let his mind ramble back to Morgan.
    He had a feeling she’d been as shocked as he was by that kiss last night. As a rule, he didn’t go around making out with women he barely knew, no matter how appealing they were. It was also one of the more memorable kisses he’d had in his fairly routine romantic career. Most of the women he knew were practical about what they expected from him, and he pretty much gave them what they wanted. A lot of them had been cops like him—they understood each other. Of course, his last relationship in Konigsburg had been a disaster, given that the woman in question turned out to be a psycho bitch, but she wasn’t exactly par for the course.
    A picture of Morgan’s face popped into his mind—her stunned expression when his cell phone had brought them both up for air. That definitely hadn’t been par for the course. For either of them.
    He liked the way her chin came down in that rounded point. She had a slight widow’s peak too, that emphasized the heart shape of her face. A sprinkle of freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, like cinnamon on sugar.
    Cinnamon on sugar. Lord have mercy. Toleffson, you really are losing your mind. And your focus.
    Morgan Barrett was obviously a very dangerous woman.
    At the lectern, Pittman was finally wrapping up. “We have some big weeks ahead of us here, leading up to the Wine and Food Festival at the end of August. Y’all got your tickets to sell now.” He gave them a wide, professional smile that probably should have had cameras clicking in front of it. “And don’t forget the annual motorcycle rally this weekend. Bigger and better than ever.”
    Erik stared at him. Motorcycle rally? This weekend? What motorcycle rally? He looked around the room. Most of the faces looked resigned. A couple looked downright mulish.
    Pittman’s smile became even broader as he tried to warm up the audience. “According to the latest figures I have, we can expect over three hundred bikes. How about that, folks! That’s a hundred more than last year!”
    Pittman’s assistant began to clap enthusiastically. After a moment, a few more people, like Tom Ames, the owner of the Faro tavern, joined him. Erik glanced at Allie Maldonado. Her arms were folded across her chest—she was very pointedly not applauding.
    After a moment, Arthur Craven raised his hand. “I thought we’d agreed to limit the registrations to two hundred this year, Mr. Mayor.”
    “Limit registration?” Hilton raised his eyebrows theatrically. “We’ve got people who want to come to Konigsburg, Arthur. Why would we want to limit their numbers?”
    Erik heard a few grumbles from behind him. Apparently, that question wasn’t as rhetorical as Hilton thought it was.
    “C’mon, folks!” he cried. “Let’s all work together and make this the best rally we’ve ever had. Go, Konigsburg!” Pittman pumped his hand in