Free Hide & Find (Mayfield Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Jerusha Jones Page B

anywhere,” I added for good measure, just to give Loretta a psychological excuse for the scrubbing she was going to need to do to make the cabin healthier for both of them.
    It was a minor fabrication, but I imagined it could be valid. Maybe they would more readily tolerate each other’s foibles if they both thought the annoyances were caused by various forms of infirmity. Even though, in reality, they were two of the strongest people I knew. I could only hope they wouldn’t kill each other, and I didn’t feel bad about a couple white lies to that end.
    We ate with Tarq. It was a quiet meal, but I was pleased to see he emptied his bowl and took a second roll to swipe up the remaining traces of sauce.
    When Emmie and I left, Tarq was reviewing notes at the kitchen table — my case probably, since I was his only client — while Loretta washed dishes and stacked them on the drainboard.
    It was a sweet domestic scene. My diplomacy seemed successful. Maybe when this was over, I could get a job at the United Nations.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 9
     
    I slowed at Mayfield’s ivy-covered gate, waited for it to swing open, and came face to face with an oncoming pair of headlights. They were too low to belong to a pickup. There was only one person, other than Clarice, who regularly risked a car chassis on this driveway. I wasn’t in the mood to yield and scrape Lentil’s axles for his convenience. He could pull off the track at his own risk.
    Except he didn’t. A dark form passed in front of the lights, and a loud knocking sounded on my window.
    “Nice rig,” Matt Jarvis said when I’d rolled down the glass.
    “Got a bargain,” I replied cheerfully. No point in antagonizing him yet. Sometimes it’s helpful to be under the watchful eye of the FBI. Other times not so much.
    Matt’s gaze took in Emmie seated beside me, and he exhaled softly. “I need to talk to you. Imagine how overjoyed Clarice will be when I stroll back into her kitchen after I’ve already drunk four cups of her coffee and cleaned out your supply of homemade cookies. The cranberry hazelnut bars with the white chocolate drizzle on top are my favorite.”
    I chuckled. “It would help if you called ahead. Twenty-four hours’ notice would be nice. She could stock up.”
    “No can do.”
    Matt returned to his car and executed a narrow seven-point turn to get it turned around. The lights were burning brightly in Mayfield’s kitchen when we parked in a loose semi-circle near Clarice’s station wagon. It was certainly the coziest part of the old mansion, and we spent the vast majority of our time at home near the stove and fridge. That probably said something about our priorities.
    Clarice gave both Matt and me what amounts to the evil-eye, but she escorted Emmie to an early bath while I settled at the kitchen table for a heart-to-heart with my very own special agent.
    I’d disposed of Loretta in the nick of time, literally. About the only thing I could count on Matt for was showing up at the most inconvenient junctures. He had a sixth sense about it. Oh, except for the time he brought the SWAT team into Tarq’s living room when a mobster had a gun pointed at my chest. That particular interruption I was grateful for.
    So I figured I’d better be polite. “More coffee?”
    Matt laughed and ran a hand through his short dark blond hair. “I’m going to float away as it is.”
    “Suit yourself.” I shrugged and dropped into a chair across from him.
    “We were wondering why you suddenly seemed to be a homebody,” Matt said. “Clarice too.” He leaned on his elbows and fixed me with a stern gaze. “Turns out you’re not. What are you up to?”
    Ahh, so the magnetic GPS trackers that Matt had stuck on Clarice’s Subaru when he thought I wasn’t looking had fallen down on the job, and the FBI wanted to know why. I’d tucked them into a crook in the downspout of the patio overhang just outside the kitchen