Above the Law

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The sun was going down. Mark took in his watch, noting that it was approaching eight thirty. He had to remind himself to fight the instinct to go back over to the hostess just inside the door, who still had a spooked expression.

Billy Jo had been right. Maybe that was why he was so uncomfortable as he sat outside on the bench, because he’d done what Billy Jo had expected and asked the hostess whether she’d bumped him to the front of the line, ahead of the dozen or so people already waiting, just because he was Detective Friessen.

What had her answer been? She had stared in horror, because apparently he wasn’t supposed to have asked that. Nevertheless, she had replied that all but two of the waiting couples had called and been there before him.

His stomach rumbled again. Waiting at a restaurant for over an hour for a table was something he had never done. His gaze continued to dart over to the nearby taco stand, which was now closing up for the night.

Billy Jo smacked his arm. “Okay, two more are leaving their tables. Come on, hurry up, people.” She tapped his arm again. She was staring through the big picture window, nothing discreet about her.

“You sure they’re not leaving because of the way you’re staring them down, making them feel as if you’re about to walk in there, rip their plates away, and tell them they’re done?”

She made a rude noise.

He took in her impatience, the way she fidgeted. She looked rather nice tonight. Her clothes were unlike the baggy things she normally wore. Girly was one thing Billy Jo wasn’t, but tonight was different. He found himself really taking in everything about her, though there was nothing flirty or teasing there.

What was wrong with him? He seemed to always be drawn to the wrong kind of girl. But then, he trusted Billy Jo more than anyone. He pulled his hand over his face, wondering why he wasn’t like his brothers.

“Yup…yup,” she said. “Look, that’s our table, and we’re taking it. Come on, get up.” She kept tapping his arm.

For a moment, as he took in her impatience, he thought she might even go in and yell at them to hurry up and pay the bill. “You know, just saying, that could have been us. We could have already had dinner and been on our way, but no. You insisted I make everyone feel uncomfortable and go to the back of the line because…”

“Oh, stop it, already. If you’d actually called and made a reservation earlier today like you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be sitting out here, starving. What the hell is up with some of these people, though? They’ve been sitting there forever, done eating yet not leaving. Those two must have been married forever, because they’re just staring off into space.”

The way she said it, he half expected her to walk in there and over to the people at the tables in question and tell them to leave. She was staring down with the kind of look he wouldn’t want to have been on the receiving end of. Complicated, difficult. Being with her was just like treading over a minefield.

He stood up beside her as she stared through the big window, leaning in.

“Could someone get up any slower?” she said. “Come on, people. Move it, already.” She clapped her hands this time.

He wondered whether people could hear her from inside.

“Let’s go. We’re taking that table.” She gestured sharply as she strode to the door and pulled it open, and he had no choice but to follow her. He gripped the edge of the door, looking right and left, really taking his time. She was already up in front of the hostess, gesturing quite sharply. Would that hostess ever forget them? Likely not.

Two couples walked out past him as he carefully took a step inside, looking around.

“Come on, Mark. Let’s go,” Billy Jo called out.

The hostess already had two menus in her hand, and she led them into the open restaurant, which had about twenty tables. It was well lit, with lots of windows that offered an amazing view of the now darkening sky.

“I have a window seat here,” the hostess said. “Can I get you two anything to drink to start?”

Mark reached for the chair at the table for two, which had just been cleared and wiped down but was not yet set for anyone, and pulled it out. “I’ll have a pint of your lager on tap.”

Billy Jo was still standing, her hands resting on the back of her chair. “A glass of your house red,” she said.

The hostess left the menus on the table and walked away. Billy Jo was still standing there, not sitting, and Mark didn’t have a clue what she was doing.

“You’re not seriously expecting me to pull your chair out for you?” he said.

She shot him a look that told him to drop dead, a look she’d mastered, and then looped her purse over the back of the chair before pulling it out. “Don’t be an ass,” she said as she sat, then nodded behind him. “You have any idea who those people are over there?”

He glanced around to where she was gesturing, seeing a restaurant full of people he didn’t really know.

She wiped her hands over the damp table and then rubbed them together. “Don’t look,” she hissed under her breath.

He turned back to her and wanted to point out how ridiculous she sounded. “You asked me if I knew who they were. If I can’t look, then how am I supposed to tell you?”

One of the servers brought a basket of breadsticks along with two rolled napkins with utensils. Not exactly Mexican, but hungry was hungry. Mark reached for one and took a bite.

“Do it conspicuously,” she said. “Come on. You’re a cop. You should know how to watch people without them knowing you’re looking at them.” She was serious.

He reached for the menu and leaned on the table before glancing behind him. Then he looked back to see her standing. “No idea who you’re talking about. What are you doing? I thought you were hungry.” He gestured to her chair.

She reached for her purse, not pulling her eyes from his. He could see the edge to her, which was always there. “Table of four women who’ve been watching us, or rather you, since we walked in here. But even earlier, when we were sitting outside, they kept looking over.” She leaned in again. “Come on, Mark. The table of four women at two o’clock? Please tell me they aren’t women you dated and have forgotten about?”

Now he had even less interest in looking. “Okay, you know what?” he said. “I’m hungry. If they want to look, let them. And, for the record, I remember every woman I’ve dated. What are you doing?”

She was now standing, her bag over her shoulder. “I have to go to the bathroom. Order something to start while I’m gone,” she said, then started to the back of the restaurant.

He just shook his head. Being with Billy Jo was anything but easy. He stared at the menu, the choices, as a lanky server wearing a black shirt and pants appeared with Billy Jo’s wine and his beer.

“Do you have any starters before we order?” Mark said. “Chips, salsa…?” He looked up to the waiter as he took in the menu, which had so many options.

“Sure. I can bring you a basket of chips and salsa, or we have nachos with shrimp con queso.” He pointed at the long list.

Mark didn’t have a clue what Billy Jo wanted. “You know what? You choose,” he said.

“Hi, Mark. I thought that was you,” said a woman behind the waiter. She was attractive, leggy, slender, wearing a hat over a mix of dark and light hair. “I guess you don’t remember meeting. I’m a friend of Sybil Gillespie. We met at the coffeehouse when she was closing up a while back.” Her smile was perfect.

He could feel the unease, a knot in his stomach. He looked up to the waiter, who was still standing there, and said, “Whatever you bring is fine.”

The waiter had been staring at the woman, whom Mark didn’t remember meeting. “Okay then…” was all he said before he left.

Mark leaned back, wondering why the woman was smiling down at him. He took in the perfect smile of someone who seemed too familiar with him, and he wondered whether this was where he was supposed to ask how Sybil was.

“Sorry, your name is?” He gestured toward her.

She shrugged. She wore skin-tight jeans, a crop top, and a jean jacket, with heavy eyeliner and hoops in her ears. He was pretty good with faces and names, so he didn’t know why he didn’t remember. He thought of Sybil, super hot, exactly the type he gravitated to. Yet he hadn’t stepped back in that coffeehouse since things went sideways.

“Lynn,” she said. “So you don’t remember me?”

He pulled in a breath, wondering what it was about the way she was staring down at him, watching him. “Sorry, I meet a lot of people. You’re having dinner here with friends?”

He wondered now whether that was who Billy Jo had meant, the people watching him. He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to see the three other women, who smiled and waved. He didn’t have a clue who they were—young, attractive, exactly the type that was unhealthy for him.

“Yeah, just over there,” Lynn said. “We saw you walk in with that social worker, and I thought I’d come over and say hi. Sybil was just mentioning you the other day, oh so cool and forever single. She didn’t mention you were seeing someone else…”

He reached for his beer and took a swallow. Something about this seemed too familiar, playing games, dancing around subjects, women sticking their noses in his business. “Well, again, Lynn, sorry I didn’t remember you, but enjoy your dinner.”

She hesitated, as he’d made it clear they were done, before saying, “Sure, sorry. Great to see you again, Mark. I’ll let Sybil know you said hi.”

He didn’t pull his gaze from her as he shook his head and settled his beer down on the table, not even trying to stop the rough laugh that slipped out. He hated these games. “Please don’t, Lynn. Not sure what this is, coming over here. I’m sorry I don’t remember meeting you, but I’m having dinner with a friend. Whatever has you walking over here and getting in my business…”

“Oh, no,” she said, cutting him off, a hint of pink in her cheeks. “I hope you didn’t think that’s why I came over. Of course not. I just… Well, this is embarrassing now. That’s not what I meant. It was just careless small talk, really. I’m just…”

He could see how flustered she was, yet he didn’t know why she was still standing there. She took two steps to Billy Jo’s chair, pulled it out, and sat down. He wondered whether his eyes bugged out.

“What are you doing?”

“Look, one thing Sybil always said about you was that you’re a great guy and you’d be her first call if she was in trouble, even though things aren’t good between you. Mark is who you call if you’re in trouble, she said.”

Something about the way she was talking had him glancing over to the back of the restaurant where Billy Jo had gone. He still didn’t see her. “What’s going on? Are you in trouble or something?”

She hunched a bit and leaned on the table, moving the wrapped cutlery to the side. She looked away. “Look, before you came to the island, people knew not to bother calling the police if something happened. Depending on who you were, it wouldn’t be taken seriously. But Sybil said you wouldn’t look away if someone you knew did something. She said you’d actually look into it and do something rather than protect someone because he was family or a friend. Is that true?”

He felt uneasy, taking in her ball cap and wondering if that was her way of hiding. “Why don’t you just get to the point, Lynn? Did something happen?”

She firmed her lips and fisted her hands on the table as she sat back, looking around, then lifted her hand to the side of her head as if she didn’t want anyone to see her. “Look, there’s a man who comes into the coffeehouse and makes her uncomfortable. The way he looks at her, the way he acts… She took it to the chief once, but he wouldn’t do anything about it.”

He let out a sigh and leaned forward. “Did he do something to her? I’m kind of at a loss here. Is it just that she’s uncomfortable, or is it something more? Has he threatened her in any way? Is he harassing her? You need to be a little more specific. Does she have reason to believe he’ll hurt her? Who is this, anyway?”

“Look, it’s not what he says but what he does, the way he ogles her. She says it’s creepy. He hasn’t exactly asked her out, but he takes things as if he has every right, little things, like he helps himself to a cookie and doesn’t pay for it. The last time he came in… You know that basket of muffins she keeps by the register? She went to move it, and he grabbed her arm so hard he left marks. I told her to report him, but she already did twice, before you came to the island, and all the chief said was that he’d talk to him.”

“So why is it that you are coming to me and not Sybil?”

She stood up from her chair and pressed her hands to the table. “Because she said things ended badly between the two of you, and I know she’s super hurt that you’re interested in someone else. Call it ego, call it whatever. But the fact is that the last time she talked to the chief, the guy walked back into the café the next day, lifted the glass lid off the cake plate, and dropped it so it shattered right beside him. He didn’t look away from her. All he said was oops, then told her not to take it to the chief next time she had an issue with him.

“Then he walked behind the counter, helped himself to a sandwich, and took a bite out of it before dropping it on the floor too. Of course, no one was there. Yesterday, when I stopped in, she said she wanted it to stop. He doesn’t take anything worth more than a few dollars. But the fact is that he’s Roland Shephard—you know, the chief’s brother? I told her to call you regardless of what happened between the two of you. She just wants him to stop coming in and knows the chief won’t do anything.”

The last thing he wanted was to be dragged back into Sybil’s world, but if someone was harassing her, he wouldn’t look away. The chief’s brother? “Okay, I’ll talk to her,” he said.

This time, Lynn didn’t pull her gaze, her light brown eyes. She gave him a smile and rested her hand on his shoulder. “That’s great. There. I guess that wasn’t so hard after all.” Then she pulled her hand away and walked off just as the waiter reappeared with a platter of steaming cheese-covered nachos.

Still no sign of Billy Jo.

What was it with women and bathrooms?