Free I Want Candy by Susan Donovan Page B

smurfers,” Kelly said.
    Kelly was referring to DEA field agent Dante Cabrera, a guy in his early thirties more used to the New York streets than the North Carolina hills. But he’d finagled his way into the group as a regional driver. For the last couple weeks, his job had been to take shipments from the lab to the Florida state line and hand them off to the cartel for distribution. The detailed information Cabrera had provided now formed the backbone of their case, though Turner and everyone else knew the longer they kept him inside the greater his chances were of being exposed.
    Turner was troubled by that news. It was the first time he’d heard that Gerrall was actively involved in the meth operation. He turned to the state bureau of investigation agent at the table. “You guys still tailing Gerrall?”
    “Yeah,” he said. “He’s making four to five pickups a night after he gets off his shift at the nursing home.”
    “But he’s not accepting deliveries at Cherokee Pines?”
    “Not that we’ve seen.”
    Turner barely had time to register his relief when there was a knock on the conference room door. Bitsy stuck her head in. “Sheriff, I’m sorry to disturb you, but you wanted me to remind you when it was time to think about lunch.”
    “Right. Thanks, Bits.” Turner looked around the conference table, almost afraid to ask. “What’ll it be today? Lenny’s? The sub place? Pizza?”
    *   *   *
     
    Candy smoothed down her hair and pointed her chin high. She grabbed the HELP WANTED sign taped to the front window of the diner and ripped it off the glass on her way in the door.
    “Hi, Lenny,” she said, leaning on the counter, waiting for him to look up from the cutout window between the dining room and the kitchen. When he did, he smiled. Then started laughing.
    “Candy Carmichael? Am I seeing things?”
    “Nope.” She held up the sign and smacked it down on the countertop. “Your newest employee is here.”
    One of Lenny’s eyes narrowed as he frowned. She decided he hadn’t changed much in the last dozen years—still half bald and all round. His laugh hadn’t changed, either, and it rang through the mostly empty restaurant, which also looked exactly the way it had when she’d been in high school. If the place had been sparkling clean, it might have been considered retro. In its present condition, it looked just plain worn out.
    “You don’t want any job I got,” Lenny said, shaking his head and throwing a dish towel over his shoulder. “Last I heard you went down to Florida and got your degree and became a business tycoon or some damn thing.”
    “Hmm,” she said, fiddling with the tape still stuck on the sign. “I did, yes, but that was then and this is now. I’ve decided to reinvent myself.”
    “I see.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “And you want to reinvent yourself as a dishwasher?”
    Candy couldn’t hide it. She was disappointed, since she’d hoped the opening was for a waitress. There she was again—shooting for the moon. “Sure,” she managed, trying to keep her smile in place. “Sounds perfect.”
    “Aw, girl, I’m just messin’ with you. Hold up a minute.” Lenny came out the swinging door and made his way around the lunch counter. Before she could mount a defense, Candy found herself pressed up against his apron-covered belly, swallowed in his beefy arms. When he was done, he planted her in front of him and looked her in the eye. “I was pulling your leg. It’s a cashier job, seven A.M. to four P.M. , with counter duties at lunch and a half hour paid break.”
    Candy felt herself bust out into a grin. “I’m in.”
    Lenny shook his head again. “I heard you were back in town. So where are you living now?”
    “What do you mean?” Candy didn’t like the way that sounded.
    Lenny scratched his chin and thought about it. “Well, first I heard you was stayin’ out at Gladys Harbison’s place, but that she kept stealing your underpants so you