Free Hidden Heritage by Charlotte Hinger

and I had to go to Topeka and back in the same day. Then I had to attend a funeral this morning that gave me the willies.”
    She listened silently and wouldn’t give me a break.
    â€œWell, I need to get some sleep.”
    She said nothing.
    â€œKiss the pooch for me until I can deliver it in person.”
    â€œGood night, Lottie.” Her voice was gentle but I was in for a weekend of skilled inquisition.
    I was still awake when Keith came to bed. I nearly told him about Dimon’s animosity toward Sam, then decided it could wait. I didn’t want to spoil his weekend. Keith adored the old man. If I wasn’t aware of the sacredness of male bonding before, I was after Sam deputized Keith. They hoisted the flag together, fished together, and indulged in off-color jokes that I wasn’t privy to, rightly suspicious that my latent streak of feminism could be riled up.
    In the beginning, I thought their closeness was because Keith felt sorry for Sam because he had no family. Then I’d watched their relationship develop into something different that sometimes made me feel like an outsider with my nose pressed against the window. Sadly, I realized I wasn’t and never could truly be one of the boys.
    But I had Josie, and if there was ever a shut-out relationship! It went beyond twin-bonding.

Chapter Seven
    There were hollows under Sam’s sagging eyes when I breezed into the sheriff’s office the next morning.
    â€œYou don’t look like you got much sleep.”
    â€œI let Dimon get under my skin. Had trouble dropping off.”
    â€œBusy otherwise?”
    â€œNope. Deader than a doornail,” he said. “That passes for good news around here, I guess.”
    â€œAnything I need to know?”
    â€œNope. It’s all there in the log. Betty is dispatching.”
    â€œGreat.” But great was not the first word that came to mind when I dealt with Betty Central. She was a stocky, small woman whom I had secretly nicknamed Miss Piggy. Bossy, and a relentless gossip, she was nevertheless absolutely reliable and a tireless worker.
    â€œThe phones are switched to her house.”
    â€œOkay. For once I don’t have to do run back and forth between offices. I sent my report on the funeral to Dimon yesterday afternoon. Here’s your copy.”
    I handed him the paper. “We’ll talk about this some more after this weekend.”
    He glanced at the sparse information. “I hope to hell that wasn’t all you noticed.”
    After he left, I brooded about Dimon’s hostility toward Sam and looked around the bare bones room. The equipment in the sheriff’s office should have been junked five years before.
    Everything in the historical society is state of the art. I had paid for every single electronic device: the computers, printers, phones, scanners, microfilm readers, flash drives—you name it. I could not bear working with substandard technology. It was my kingdom and I issued decrees at will. But the sheriff’s office was Sam’s domain and he preferred legal pads and number two pencils. He had grown used to me ducking out when I needed to use modern equipment.
    I swiped back a strand of hair that had escaped from my French braid. I walked to the front window, and stared at the barren street, the sun-faded store front opposite. I could see the handwriting on the wall. Sam was going to be forced out if Dimon could implement regional organization.
    But not if we solved this case all by ourselves. Without the help of the KBI. Then Dimon would not be able to claim our methods were ineffective. I would do everything the bureau asked. But I knew for a fact what he would ask me to do would add up to zilch when it came to finding out who murdered Victor Diaz.
    The old man coming to relieve me was strictly a place-holder. Keith wanted to be with Tom, and I wanted to be home cooking for the Fourth of July horde. We couldn’t ask Sam to be here